SR Chapter 1 Milk Runs

[Wyrd]

Milk Runs and other starting runs:

Everyone has to establish a reputation somehow. This is particuarly important for Shadowrunners, as advertising your skills on Crack's list is a good way to get the Rent-a-cops breathing down your necks. The problem that arises for many runners is that they are... encouraged by circumstance to relocate to somewhere they are less well known. This means all of that hard work is wasted and your reputation has to be rebuilt from the ground up.

Such is the situation some shadowy figures find themselves in in Denver. For one reason or another, they have had to relocate to this smuggler's paradise.

Denver is a city quite literally on the border between the Peublo Corporate Council and the Sioux territories. These two countries fight over who has control of the city so much that which country your house is officially in changes sometimes multiple times in a week. As a location in such turmoil, it has garnered the attention of most of the Mega-corps as well as the nearby nations of UCAS and CAS, all of which have strong presences and much work for those who fly under the radar.

So many runners come and go here that a few people have developed their own reputations not for running, fixing, or even connecting runners with employers, but for judging the quality of runners and passing their assessments on to those who would rather not deal with unknown quantities.

Mrs. Esterhouse is what such Johnsons are called. This name is every bit as fake as the more traditional Mr. Johnson, started by the first to get a reputation for this kind of work. The Mrs. Esterhouse our runners have been directed to is a little old Jewish lady who runs her own bakery in a nice little business district that does not have the glitz of the corporate areas but still manages to be clean and respectable.

Entering the bakery, you see the place is fairly busy with middle class workers indulging in some fresh baked goods or picking up a cup of soy-kaff. There is an empty table near the back where you have been told to wait for your contact and anyone else who will be joining you. You know that doing this is important to getting your foot in the door in the Denver shadows, even if for once you have no say on your co-runners.

Click to reveal..

At this point, anyone who wants to participate in this run needs to write an introductory post of you entering the bakery, giving a description of yourself. Ace, Jeremy is not there because of his RL problems that would prevent him from posting, despite the two of you already knowing each other.

[The Hospitaler]

Tabitha, under her guise of Jane Arrowway walks into the Bakery, her yachting dufflebag over her shoulders looking like she spent some time out at the Cherry Creek marina more than the business Mrs. Esterhouse is looking for.

She looks over the fine pastries made suprisingly from real ingredients, and adjusts the sunglasses on her head.

"I'll have the sugar cookie over there, please." She says with a pleasant tone.

"Sure. Just got back from the Cherry Creek Lake yacht club?" The worker benind the couter asks, her apron covered in various types of flour, filling and other sweet things to the point of looking like a Jackson Pollack painting. The Elf swishes over to the counter where Tabitha's standing.

"Yeah, how did you guess?"

"Oh the sailor outfit. Didn't think they made those on this side of the pacific, even more rare to see it tailored like something from the 1920s."

"Custom made, actually. Thought it'd be nice to have a change of clothing for the summer."

"Ah." the worker happily states as she pulls out the cookie. "Anything to drink."

"Milk. Don't gimmie that skim crap, I like mine fully loaded."

"Good good, we don't get many asking for that. We get ours from free-range cows."

"I can see by the price." Jane quips. ¥25 for milk and a cookie... sometimes she wishes she was in the 1920s. She places the hard cash down and moves to the open table, sitting down watching the crowd with her back to the wall, and her high-visibility red bag sitting on the table.

"What brand is that bag?" The worker asks curiously.

"Oh, it's a Sterns model, made for someone to store a ditch kit in, but it's also good for land-locked yachting as well." Tabitha as Jane says holding up the inflation stem. "And it floats. Just gotta remember to put air in after opening it."

The worker giggles. "Just wondering what sot of gear I want to get for my boat."

"You yacht?"

"On occasion. I actually do security work for the marina That's where I get my real money. I just work here to help the owner manage her other employees."

"The Security job Night shift?"

"Yeah, I gotta sleep here in my open time sometimes. At least in the winter I got less to do and I got more time to devote to this store. Luckily I got people to work here when I need it in the neighborhood."

"Got any opeinings?"

"Yeah... Don't mind thin hours and minimum-wage pay?"

"Anything is better than nothing right now. Got a bit of bad luck and my boat got repoed."

"Oh I'm sorry... every once in a while things go paws up... Tell you what... you tell me your tailor and where you got the bag and I can see if I can get you a couple more hours. I gotta fire this fat overgrown troll that works for me. I think he eats the merchandise!"

Tabitha laughs. "Well who can resist. You're good at what you do!"

"You have no idea..." The Elf says, cleaning the countertop. "Just let me know what sort of schedule you got and I can arrange my work schedule accordingly. I can understand if you have other obligations and I can juggle a bit. Oh... that vest Coast Guard approved?"

"What... oh... how did you notice?"

"I picked up on the little raised bit in the vest where the CO2 cartridge is. When you work security, you pick up on the little details. Maybe I should become a detective! That's well tailored, but the gear don't lie, kiddo."

Tabitha giggles "You should!"

[SalmonMax]

Martina...no, it was Juno now, she reminded herself...pushed the plasteel door of the bakery open and slipped inside, wincing as the bright ding dong! of the door's chime called attention to another customer entering.

She hated this place already. The walls were all transparent, letting sunlight stream in between the off-white curtains which all stood open. The tables and floors were clean and mopped and...waxed? Shit. It was like she'd fallen forty years back in time. There was no driving ork deathmetal coming out of speakers in the ceiling to obscure conversations. No dark, shadowy corners...at least not to her definition of such. And Juno, with her camo cargo pants and metallic hand poking out of her black faux-leather jacket's left sleeve, fit into this place with all the uneasy grace of an elephant in a nursing home.

Denver was a CITY, for fuck's sake. Why did the Johnson (oh, excuse me, Mrs. Esterhouse) want to meet HERE?

She went to the counter, morbidly curious to see what a place like this sold. Odds were good she'd be coming here again if things went well. The elf behind the register was chatting witlessly with some brain-dead refugee from a fetish cosplay convention or something, leaving Juno free to peruse the menu in peace.

After a second she called to the elf, "Hey. You guys got anything to drink that costs less than my rent??"

[The Hospitaler]

"Everything is natural here, friend... nature is expensive these days." Tabitha says, looking him over. "If you want cheap, ask for water. I noticed the filter is top-of-the-line. Probably need that noting the quality of the pastries and this... cookie." She says, taking a bite and loving every moment. "I'd cut her a break her employer is providing employment for the community. Sit down... relax... get some milk, even." She says placing Twenty Nuyen on the table. "My treat... and forgive the outfit... just got back from the marina." She says with a grin.

Click to reveal..

She looks wholesome as apple pie and twice as kind... Odd she placed hard currency on the table though. And what she's wearing is far from fetish. Well, might be construed for looking like a schoolgirl, but the yachting deck shoes and vest aren't part of any uniform you've seen. Also she looks more than 100 years behind the fashion curve. Probably into some retro thing more than anything else.

[SalmonMax]

Juno looked from the elf down at the 20 nuyen piece on the counter, then up at the girl who had put it there. Something about the slight twitch at the corner of her right eye suggested that she was imagining ways to kill her using that very coin. What she was really thinking though was closer to, God no, not one of these.

The elf was looking at her now, and Juno shook her head to disengage, picked up the coin and went to sit down across from Sailor Moon. There she put the coin back down on the table.

"Okay Cinderella," she said after a pause to scrub her prepared speech of the screaming and profanity. "Seems we might be on the same side soon, so this is a mulligan. It's a sports term. It means you fucked up, but I'm going to pretend it didn't happen. Take your money back."

"So here's the deal. You and I aren't friends. We are, at best, co-workers. And that's only if we wind up working together. That means you don't give me money. It means I don't expect, or want, you to answer questions I'm asking other people. And it most definitely means I don't care why you're dressed like that. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to talk biz, and make money, and that's it."

"So. All that in mind..." She held out her flesh and blood hand. "Call me Juno. Pleasure to be working with you."

[The Hospitaler]

Tabitha pulls the coinage back, then takes the hand after standing up. But then she looks around without moving her head. "Just call me Ace, for now." She says, calmly, but with measured cadence as if she is definately holding something back. But only for the case of expedience. "As for fucked up... I have had my share. I can't show my face around the Twin Cities because of one. Something tells me... I was on the verge of another."

She sits back down. "My offer was for kindness, not to impress... Then again, perhaps I was... being too assumptive. I apologise. Not a good start, indeed."

She looks down at the table. "And yes, we will be working together. I guess we gotta work from the bottom up I suppose."

[SalmonMax]

Bud = nipped.

For a second Juno almost felt guilty...then she remembered what 'Ace' had been like a moment ago. Hurt, contrite Ace was something she was much more inclined to deal with than perky, condescending Ace. And having been given, Juno was that much more inclined to give.

She shrugged Ace's confession off and said, "No hard feelings here. I'm just the type who needs some...professional distance at first. Once we've saved each other's lives a few times, we can reassess that if we still want to."

[Krugar Rockbiter]

Atasaya's face was scrunched up against the glare of the Denver Sun as he rounded the corner towards the bakery. It was mid-June and the weather was finally starting to warm up, though bouts of cool weather were still possible and occasionally showed themselves. The trees were leafed out, letting the spruce's ever-present shades of blue and green relax as the only available notion of color.

The large troll wiped a hand over his head and down his short-cropped white mohawk before tossing the long mullet of hair that draped down his back. Feathers and beads were woven in, occasionally clacking as they collided when he walked. Hefting his long staff of petrified cactus, he patted his coat's pocket reassuringly, soothing himself with the verification of its contents.

With a large sigh, he pulled on the handle and entered the bakery, the warm scent of confections and pastries hitting him like a frosted brick wall. His stomach growled loudly, calling unwanted attention to himself and reminding him how long it had been since he had eaten.

Glad for the color of his skin in this moment, Atasaya blinked a few times and let his eyes adjust as he surveyed the place. There weren't many in the bakery, but for the time, that probably wasn't unusual. Normal people did work after all and those that ran shadows would not find many in the middle of the day. There were a couple hispanic guys at one table sporting chrome but didn't send any obvious signals. The ork just in front of Atasaya was just finishing at the register and the dandelion-eater behind the counter was bagging a loaf of bread that from the numbers on the register, was cheaper than the cookies.

The elf caught him looking and Atasaya nodded towards her and made his way towards the back and the table he was instructed to meet the Joh--Esterhouse. He pulled out one of the chairs intended for trolls and sat down, briefly glancing at the sailor-clad human with an arched brow and a nod towards Juno. As he sat, a warm, ripe smell emanated from Atasaya. It wasn't completely body odor, though there were underlying tones of that as well, but more the smell of a reptile's cage. The Denver summer did not appear to be helping the smell much either.

Concentrating briefly, Atasaya shifted his perception to the astral plane and looked over the shop again. The warm comfort that immediately seized his vision almost made his eyes water. This wasn't a place of business, but more a home. Even the spirits here lounged about, content. Though they seemed at the same time alert and ready to commit. His focus was letting forth a large light, but not so much that he couldn't tell that the sailor-person was awakened. None others present appeared active and there was no immediate danger, so he dropped his gaze back to the meat world.

Well, now we wait.

[Jeremy]

To be honest, the respectability of this place screamed at Jeremy, and he wondered even with his clean coat and flats if he could have a prayer's chance of fitting in here, what with being the man of the shadows that he was. Still, Tabitha had taken on a run, and he had no intention of leaving his partner (in more ways than one) alone of this venture.

So to the Mrs. Esterhouse's bakery he went. Stepping through the door, he was assailed by the smell of natural cooking- which was probably too much for his thin nuyen padding anyway. The adept looked around and caught sight of Tabitha- Jane now in this place.

"I see you meet someone new every day, Jane." Jeremy remarked as he came over. "Boating go well? Oh, and you are?" He asked of Juno?

[The Hospitaler]

Tabitha sips the last of her milk. "Well, most of the time."

She smiles as she eats more of her cookie. "There was a bit of a chop, but otherwise things were alright."

She looks to Juno and the other newcomer, and defers to them to introduce themselves. Particularly to the one that had walked in before Jeremy.

[SalmonMax]

Juno nods at the troll, because that's something you do to someone who's ten feet tall and seated right across a table from you. Right on his heels comes some guy who knows 'Jane,' so she includes them both as she gives her introduction.

"Juno," she says, not offering her hand. "New to the fair city. Nice to meet you."

Behind her sunglasses she sized them up.

Trog's got some kind of witch doctor thing going on with that funky staff. And Sailor Moon's boyfriend is either not packing or is packing very light. Neither's got so much as a datajack where it shows. Huh.

[Kisada]

A High-pitched droning from outside gets louder and louder, eventually resolving itself into the whine of a high-speed motorcycle approaching the store. There is a screech as the bike comes to an abrupt halt, directly outside. After about 30 seconds, the door opens and a slight-looking japanese human walks in, carrying a white and powder-blue motorcycle helmet. His jacket is open, revealing a neon yellow Urban Explorer jumpsuit. He walks to the counter, where he orders a peanut-butter cookie and some skim milk, bowing when the order is completed.

Once the cookie and milk arrive, he heads towards the back table, looking around at the other people at the table. He grabs a chair from a nearby table, and slides it towards the table, sitting on it with the chair back in front of him. He looks at the rest of the people at the table, and says, "Good afternoon. I am Kisada. I assume that none of you is Estherhaus?" He smiles a toothy grin.

[Krugar Rockbiter]

Someone is dating that sailor-girl? Shouldn't be so surprised At...any port in a storm...

Atasaya abruptly smiled, but kept himself from laughing at his own clever joke. He did however notice that the boy-toy didn't seem to want Atasaya's name, but that was fine. Just because they were all here at the same table didn't imply they would be working together. Hell, they could all be working for the Ester just scoping him out. Not likely he presumed, but possible.

Juno...Also new to the city. That would make sense. Test more than one at a time? A group interview...or a run. Wonder what kind of drek, kittycat run we will get.

Atasaya nodded at the introductions politely. The smile he was still sporting did nothing to alleviate his intimidating demeanor however, as it just showed off his jagged teeth. Now that he was sitting, the scars on his head where his horns should be were also visible. He didn't offer an introduction for himself.

Not wasting my breath, obviously there will be many here...dangerous in its own right. Only those that need to know me shall have it.

Those cookies look delicious.

[Atomicweasel]

A few moments after the Nippon in the jumpsuit had seated himself at the table, the bakery door swung open again and Baye Kim strolled up to the counter...

A slender young Elven man, standing perhaps 5'8" and weighing around 145 lbs, Baye looked vaguely Korean or Japanese, with slanted brown eyes, a wide strong jaw and high cheekbones. He was attractive, in the way that nearly all elves are, but there was nothing remarkable about his good looks. He had a washed out coffee cream colored tan that was obviously the result of genetics alone. His dyed blonde hair was swept back from his forehead, leaving a soft widow's peak and curling around his pointed ears to end just above his shoulders in gel-controlled perfection; it looked to be the only aspect of his appearance to which he devoted any real care.

Today Baye was wearing a faded orange tee shirt with black lettering that read, YOU'VE GOT EYES AND I'VE GOT FISTS in small bold print. He had on a pair of dark jeans, a plain gray and blue windbreaker with the hood down, and a pair of sneakers. A deck-sized shoulder bag was slung across his back. The sneakers were the only part of the ensemble that seemed to have been planned. They were bright orange, and probably matched the shirt once.

"Welcome friend, how can I serve you?" the elven server asked brightly, speaking in flawless Sperethiel.

"Bagel with lox, soycaff." Baye answered her lazily.

The server paused, a small scowl marking her pretty brow. She filled the order, glancing over at Baye, who barely acknowledged her with a nod. "Ten even." she announced, pushing the wax-paper wrapped bagel, and steaming styrofoam cup of soycaff across the counter.

"Thanks," Baye muttered, swiping a credstick and ambling back to the table.

"Big crowd." Baye said by way of greeting as he slipped into an open seat next to the towering troll. He blew on his soycaff, stared at it a moment, and then looked around the table, marking everyone else. When his dull brown eyes settled on Tabitha, he cracked a slow, sleepy grin.

"What the fuck are you supposed to be, omae?" It was asked without malice, the tone one of bemusement.

[Wyrd]

At the back of the store, the door to the kitchen opened, revealing a small, elderly Jewish woman wearing an apron dusted with flour. She approached the table where the runners were seated and spoke in a kindly, "So many young people here to help me with my little problems. And they say that kids these days don't respect their elders." She turns to Jeremy. "Jeremy, bubelah, you're so skinny! You've got to take better care of yourself! You should come by more often, and not just when you want to introduce me to one of your friends."

Her attention focused on the rest of the rather confused group, who had not expected so convivial a welcome, she said, "Now, all I've got for you today is a little delivery. A customer outside of the city needs some milk delivered to her for some puppies with a sick mother. So sad, but I'm sure she'll get better soon. You'll get a nice little tip for doing me this favor, and I'll be sure to tell all of my friends about how helpful you boys and girls are."

She places a data pad* on the table. "This has the address of where to pick up the milk and where to deliver it. You'll probably run across the Black Tusks while getting the milk, so if you see my son Trevor tell him he needs to call home more often. Ork pride is all well and good, but he's still my son and I worry. It's what mothers do. A couple of tusks is no excuse for not talking to your mother."

She seems to have nothing else to say at the moment, but neither is she walking away.

Click to reveal..

*Think an ebook reader with word processing features. Nearly unhackable without taking the entire thing apart because it is so primitive.

Edit: I plan on being in chat most of the day if anyone has questions before they post, though the sound of thunder in the distance may mean yet another power outage here.

[SalmonMax]

Juno watched and listened with quiet disbelief at first...but then she started getting a feeling. You can't work spec-ops without getting at least your toes dirty in intel/counterintel. People talking in code, basically, in person or over the radio. So they were supposed to go pick up "milk" and deliver it for some "puppies." And in the meantime, watch out for Black Tusks, which sounded like a local ork gang from what she said. Maybe 'Trevor' was their leader?

She smiled a grim little smile. "Don't worry. If we meet any Black Tusks, I'll see they get the message."

[Atomicweasel]

"Yeah, right. Milk. Puppies...mind if I take a look at that? Great, thanks." Baye said to no one in particular as he reached across the table and pulled the datapad closer. Taking it in both hands, he turned it over, looked it up and down, and then held it to his ear and shook it with the look of a child who's disappointed by their Christmas present. Finally, he set it down again, and began thumbing through the menu with twitchy-fast fingers.

"Fucking kidding me with this retro text-box," he could be heard to mutter. After a moment, Baye pushed the datapad back to the center of the table. He looked up at Mrs. Esterhouse slowly. "Sooo...this Magnum guy gonna need any kind of," Baye waggled his fingers at her, "credentials? Or do we just say Mrs. E sent us for the milk?"

Click to reveal..

Baye will use his eye-recorder to record the contents of the data-pad.

[Wyrd]

Mrs. Esterhouse replies very simply, "She will know you when she sees you."

[SalmonMax]

"Sounds good then," Juno opined. "Any of you guys have a van? I've got a five seater but it'd be MIGHTY close quarters with this one along," she said, nodding at the troll.

[Atomicweasel]

"Really, Chica? Sounds good?" Baye tilts his chin up at Juno and peers at her owlishly. "It's five c-notes." He reaches out one finger to tap the data-pad. "That's like, dinner for two at Caramine's. Still sound good then? Cuz I've had like, haircuts, cost more. Y'know?" Baye carefully touches his hair, as if to check on its delicate state of perfection.

[SalmonMax]

"You should get your money back then," Juno shot amiably back.

Then she gave the little ol' lady a look.

"Still, five hundred does seem kind of slim. Especially if there might be gang trouble. Lemme see that."

She made a grabby gesture towards the datapad.

[Atomicweasel]

"Tcch." Baye tcch'd back at Juno's quip. He gave the data-pad a little shove, sending it skating across the table to Juno's grabby hand like a shuffle-puck.

[SalmonMax]

Juno reads it over quickly and looks back up at their elderly patron.

"The way I read this, the only reason you'd want a whole team to do a job like this is because you think there's trouble waiting for whoever's carrying the 'milk.' But if there's trouble, five hundred won't cover gas and ammo, let alone profit margin."

She smiled. "So. Lets start with who else is interested in this milk, and what kind of opposition they can put up. Then we can talk nuyen."

[Wyrd]

Mrs. Esterhouse puts one hand on her forehead and the other on her hip, then says, "You'll only find trouble where you look for it, I can assure you. Besides, the biggest part of your 'tip' is what I tell my friends. You want more chores so you can pick up more tips, you need to make a good impression, which so far you aren't doing."

[Kisada]

Kisada sighs, "Mrs Esterhouse, I will be glad to assist you in this task. But I do have one question, what's in these cookies that makes them so good???" He then gently takes the datapad from Juno and reads the data contained therein. He smirks at the questions that the others are asking, as if they are assuming they'll be screwed. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I think you are overthinking this. We just need to get in, get the milk, get out, and deliver it. Stealth is the watchword of the day, but backup is a good thing if we get into trouble."

[SalmonMax]

Juno watches Kisada take the pad from where she left it on the table, then gives Miz Esterhouse a shrug. "If asking tough questions and sticking up for myself gives you a bad impression then you and me might not get along so well," she says. "Though my results should offset my scintillating personality. But all right. I will do this thing for you. And if it goes like the rest here seem to think it's going to go, I will owe you an apology for my suspicious nature."

She didn't say anything about what would happen if they were being sent into a combat zone for five hundred nuyen. She had SOME manners at least.

[Kisada]

Kisada thinks for a minute, "I do know a little about the Black Tusks. The Black Tusks are dangerous, but they are not aggressive. If we manage not to upset them or make them think we are a threat, we should be able to get the milk without much trouble. No insults, or obvious threat displays. The way we know who is a Black Tusk is, the gang members dye their left tusk black. If we do piss them off, all bets are off."

[Atomicweasel]

Baye took a noisy bite of his bagel with lox. He glanced side-long at Kisada, chewing with gusto. With one leg crossed over the other he drummed his knee up and down spastically. Halfway through his mouthful, he looked up at Mrs. Esterhouse, waggled his hand vaguely at Juno, and through bits of bagel managed to communicate "What she said."

[Jeremy]

Jeremy looked over the datapad, skimming it for a second, then smiled and shook his head. "I remember this place." He looked up convivally at Mrs. Esterhaus and nodded. "Won't be a problem at all, I'd say. Not hard at all for simple quiet deliverymen to get milk from the shop and send it onward. Just one thing. Are there any stray cats that want to steal from us?"

He began to think in his head about a route that would not go through checkpoints or in the turf of competing gangs. The go-gangers might be an issue, and some things couldn't be planned for, but Bell Street to Mojito Ave, to Yellowstone Street, take a right...

Click to reveal..

Int+Street Gangs for Shop

Jeremy *rolls* 8d6: 6+5+1+1+2+4+2+2: 23

Int+Street Knowledge for Safe Path

Jeremy *rolls* 8d6: 1+1+4+3+4+6+3+5: 27

[Wyrd]

"There shouldn't be any competition for this particular delivery. I wouldn't send you out for this for your first errand if the package were too fragile or if there were too many people after it. Not many people would want this particular variety of milk."

[Krugar Rockbiter]

Atasaya stood up, stretching up to his full height, and letting off a fresh wave of serpent-smell, "So let us get this done then. Whatever necessary information we need is surely on this device and our gracious host would not do herself any good to set us up for failure. We would not want the milk to sour in our tardiness." The troll said, breaking his silence finally. "I for one, appreciate the opportunity to earn the money for a roof and four walls and to make known my reputation that was left behind me on my walk."

"If none have a vehicle that can accommodate me, I believe I have enough to rent something for a day that should hold us and any milk we may carry."

[The Hospitaler]

"I should be able to take you easy in the Range Rover." Tabitha says. "Same with Jeremy." She adjusts her hair. "I'll just have to change in the back of my ride first... I've learned to be careful - trust, then verify." She says grabbing her dufflebag. "I hope you don't mind stripped-down seats and the slight hint of food I may have forgot under a cushion... still trying to find that."

[SalmonMax]

"Sounds like we have our shit together then. Give us a honk when you're done changing and we'll get this done in time for dinner."

[Wyrd]

Questions evidently done, the group headed towards the door together, Juno and Atasaya paying the most attention to their teammates, and Mrs. Esterhouse returning to the kitchen.

Parked directly outside--illegally parked at that--is a very nice Suzuki mirage, obviously kitted out for racing, at least to anyone who really knows bikes. Kisada heads straight for it, which surprises, well, nobody, really.

Parked a little further away is an all terrain range rover with an open top. Great for deserts, not so great for Denver. Tabitha and Jeremy went straight for it, followed by Baye and Atasaya.

Juno looks at the two vehicles that stand out worse than a pink and neon-green polka-dotted cyberarm--with phosphorescent paint. She decides that she would be better off in her own sedan, which blends in perfectly well with the surrounding vehicles, and not crammed into a vehicle that only held four, one of which was a, er, 'fragrant' troll.

Thus three vehicles set out, following the directions laid out by Jeremy to take advantage of his knowledge of the Denver streets to avoid trouble spots, and avoid trouble they do, having no problems(besides Baye's occasional "Are we there, yet? If this was the matrix, we'd be there already.") until they reach the site of the pick-up.

There, they see a large shop with multiple buildings, and six orcs lounging around in front of it, bikes parked beside the building. Despite being obviously a shop, there is no sign stating what sort of shop it is. The bullet proof glass, reinforced metal door, and cameras at the corners of the buildings are the most obvious signs of security.

Click to reveal..

I'll leave it up to Baye whether he actually says that

[Atomicweasel]

Baye was the first to come tumbling out of the Range Rover and into the street in front of the shop. He rubbed his nose with the heel of his palm, as if he were trying to smother an itch. His attention was drawn first to the cameras, then the six Orc bikers lounging about.

"Fucking stinks like wet lizard, omae." Baye griped as the rest of the runners exited the Range Rover. He rubbed his nose again.

[Kisada]

Kisada grinned under his helmet as he pulled up beside the Range Rover. He lowered the kickstand, and took off his helmet. The helmet was slung under his left arm, and he approached the Range Rover. "So, what next? Do we just walk in?"

[Krugar Rockbiter]

Atasaya pulled himself from the vehicle, keeping the open door as a potential shield until the situation had been assessed.

Originally Posted By: Baye

"Fucking stinks like wet lizard, omae." Baye griped as the rest of the runners exited the Range Rover. He rubbed his nose again.

"Ecks-nay izard-lay around the ork-say," At mumbled "I'd not like to die for someone that hasn't at least bought me dinner."

Atasaya concentrated and looked into the Astral, taking a good look around while the others got out of their vehicles and took up stances.

Click to reveal.. (Assaulting the Assensenes)

Spent Edge.

Forge *rolls* 11d6: 5+6+5+2+6+2+2+3+6+4+1: 42

Forge *rolls* 3d6: 2+2+4: 8

5 net

[The Hospitaler]

"Well, we don't have any directions as to how to go in, I wager, so let's use our best restraint for now. We make too many waves this early and we're sure to get stomped six feet under."

She taps the steering wheel of her Range Rover with her thumbs. The muted colors of her flight-suit/armor makes for quite a difference from what she was wearing earlier. "I would rather that we left on good terms." She says as she puts her vehicle in park and activates it's anti-theft alarm... as much as it'll do good here... although it's silent activation doesn't look bad upon her. She's detached the stuff that wouldn't be of use ground-pounding and uses the added room in her main pouches for spare ammo for her pistol.

"What do you guys say?"

[SalmonMax]

Juno got out of her car and went up to the range rover parked ahead of her.

"What's the holdup?" she asked. "Longer we sit here jabbering, the more those orks are gonna think we're up to no good."

She patted the doorframe. "Come on. She told us what to say. Just go on in and say it."

[The Hospitaler]

"None, actually. Just making sure our I's are dotted and T's crossed before it all goes to hell." She says with a almost graveyard humorous grin. "Let's not make our hosts wait any longer." She says, holstering her pistols under her bomber jacket.