Second Run: Shadows Cast

[Krul]

Having finished the mission that you all had been asked to do by the elven Johnson, you were all free for several weeks. Things had gotten a bit hairy here and there, as one might expect from a run, but they had achieved all the of the objectives. Dierdre had expressed as a Drake and ended up somewhere in Tir Tangeire, while Shivalal had moved left Seattle for Hong Kong.

Once again folks where contacted this time more directly by the runner you all had met, as the Johnson's bodyguard, the Formian runner known as Valkyrie. The meeting place requested was a lot quieter, a old warehouse down by the city docks, the time around 10 pm.

[Jeremy]

A watcher spirit in the form of a shifting and morphing figure of ooze entered the warehouse, hidden upon the astral plane. It sensed the auras of the Formian and the Johnson, then the first part of it's task fulfilled, it went back, gliding to its master standing outside and across the street.

"Two live things inside." The spirit burbled to Jeremy, who nodded and dissolved the spirit. A precaution worth taking, and it seem just a routine offer after all.

Jeremy sauntered across the street, and then entered the the warehouse. "Evening..." he announced. The attractiveness of the troll was a surprise, but he gave her just a polite nod and smile and turned to the man he presumed to be the Johnson.

"So, I'm the first. How many others are expected?"

[Perrinmiller]

Dead-eye considers the offer for a meet, Hmmm. Night-time, should be okay. Dash wouldn’t set me up, but I hope this Valkyrie is on the level. He gets ready to head out, dressed in his lined coat and armed with his HK MP-5 and Ares Predator, the Hammerli is concealed as usual. He decides to wear his ‘gunfighter’-styled brimmed hat and applies a fake mustache with waxed tips and a slight curl. He checks himself in the mirror, Alright, looks like Wyatt Earp, time to go. He heads down to the city docks area a little earlier, planning to scope out the neighborhood beforehand.

Dead-eye watches the other, smaller human male with dark hair cross the street and enter the warehouse. He tips the hat forward a little, letting the brim shield his eyes and discretely follows after to enter the warehouse as well. He will casually saunter in, eyes alert, left thumb hooked in his belt, revealing the HK SMG. He’ll nod to Valkyrie and the Johnson, silently taking up a position, back to the wall (if possible) and act casual surveying the situation quietly. He will nod an acknowledgement to the other man, figuring him to be another runner here for the job, but otherwise does not feel a need to speak first but muses to himself, they sent for Dead-eye, they must be expectin’ the gunfighter.

[Einherjar]

"The practice of the magical arts puts one above and beyond the common hurly-burly imposed on one's spirit by the pace and material demands of modern life. Though some *lesser* magicians sell their Art to corporate interests and a steady wage from their inferior masters, a true magician's focus is on Magic: first, last, and forever."

Pompous ass. Darkling mused as he made his way down the lamplit street, walking cane tapping quietly on the rain-slicked surface of the sidewalk, the dry stuffy voice of his long-dead human teacher echoed in the Elf's head. Like all of his teachings, the 'fortunate' student has to sift through ten pounds of shit to find six ounces of gold. Dressed as he was in a stylish greatcoat and scarf, the tall metahuman cut an unusual figure for the docks district at any time. His coat, shoes, and even his neatly-combed hair was however untouched by the light drizzle that practically characterised Seattle. A faint disturbance in the air around him caused by a water demon, a minor Ala conjured for just this purpose, kept the acidic, chill rain from his body as his musings continued. Living like some ascetic Christian monk has nothing to do with magical mastery and everything to do with being afraid of the flesh.

"That will do." He stepped up to the warehouse door and made a small design with the tip of one black-gloved finger, speaking softly to the air around him in a tongue so long-dead that only it's writings were known... At least to those without the resources of magic at their command. <<"I release you and send you back whence you came. Go now, lest I change my mind.">> The Ala swirled and dissipated into the ether, and the Elf opened the door before him and stepped into the dimly-lit warehouse.

"Good evening." These words, uttered in a quiet, strong voice, and a nod to those present sufficed as a greeting. Tucking his cane under one arm and glancing around for a place to sit, the magus looked straight at the Elven 'Johnson'. "I believe I am expected? I am Darkling."

[Marko Cain]

The hum of the motor bike announced Chunin's arrival. He slipped it into the shadows along the side of the ware house and strolled in not long after Darkling. He was beginning to wonder why everyone was walking in Rager territory. They owned the Seattle docks and strolling around was a good way to get your ass whooped and mugged.

Oh yeah... they have knives and a low I.Q. We have fireballs, swords, ninja training, explosive rounds, and great fashion sense. He grinned as he finished his thought while entering the door. Ahh, and soap. We have and use soap, makes all the difference.

As he came into the light he was wearing nothing but street clothes with a thick armored vest, two katanas were politely sheathed in the universally awesome 'X' pattern across his back. A button on his vest declared "Formori Chicks Dig Me". His smile was charming and his stride confident and fearless.

"Gentleman, lady." He shot a wink and a blew kiss at Valkyrie, assured that one day he'd embarrass her enough while she was 'on the clock' that she just have to haul off and kill him. God, violent, tall women with horns were so sexy! "Love the highlights Val," Even in the shadows of the warehouse he picked up the trace glimmer of her hair being a shade darker than it was the last time they met. Even formori women want to look their best and tire of the same old hair styles apparently. "You look beautiful tonight sweetie. Thanks for not making this a complete sausage fest. We appreciate it."

He gave a polite solute to Mr. Johnson. "Mr. Johnson, thanks for the invite. I was under the impression this was to be a catered event with loud music and a free bar... but I'll let that slide. It's cool. But no little cocktail weenies? My forgiveness only goes so far..." Mr. Jay knew he was messing around, it was Chunin's way. Break the ice with a few jokes, get everyone settled and relaxed amongst strangers and then it was down to business.

The ninja scanned the room and felt his hope dwindling slightly. "I'll stand, no worries. I don't care what you've seen on the trid-flix but sitting down with this on your back," he thumbed a gesture to his swords. "Nuh uh, not happening."

[SalmonMax]

In Dale's eyes the dockside was painted in the stark monochrome, slightly low-rez green of electronic light amplification as a dull grey-black van prowled into the broad open area between warehouses with its headlights off. A brief overlay showed thermographics superimposed onto the image, revealing that the motorcycle tucked into the heavy shadow alongside one of the buildings was still cooling from use. There were some skittery red blobs over on the other side that were probably rats or some such.

With a flick of concentration, Dale sent his consciousness into the small helicopter drone he had hovering overhead...high enough that it wouldn't be heard or seen, but well within effective range of the high power rifle attachment on its undercarriage. The bird's eye view confirmed that nothing unpleasant was hiding out of the van's line of sight. Not that he expected a setup or anything...you just never knew who might be waiting to crash the party.

There was a moment of discontinuity, a break in his perceptions, and then he was back in his body...the slow, soft meat self that had been lying insensate in the driver's seat. He sat up, rubbing his head, and disconnected the crash harness. Dale had lost a little weight since his last outing, and getting his armored vest taken in a few inches was one of the crowning moments of triumph he'd ever felt. Feeling great, he hopped out of the van and onto the pavement outside, flexing his knees to absorb the landing in a very ninja-like way. Maybe he could get Chunin to show him some moves. It would be good for sneak attacks...most people would regard his drones as the main threat, turning their back on him...and then WA-CHA! from behind! For that was indisputably the ninja way.

His fevered imaginings aside, Dale was still the somewhat pudgy, geeky looking guy that those who'd worked with him before knew and lov...well, tolerated. He proved it by bumping into a chair almost immediately after coming in as he was looking for a place to hang up his jacket. He cleared his throat noisily and gave everyone an awkward wave.

"Good evening, everyone," he declared. "Looking forward to talking 'the biz' again." He was trying to look grim and hardcore, but he was obviously genuinely happy to have been invited, and was doing a lousy job of hiding it...which made him look anything but hardcore.

[Osiris]

Osiris stared into the abyss her eyes focusing on a point that lay beyond eternity. Her mind was adrift amongst the stars of this endless sea of zeros and ones. Above the horizon the ever vigilant eyes of the resonance cast its gaze upon her. The young elf felt the pulse of the resonance and followed it purely on her intution. Reaching out with her fingers she touched the silver lightning which pulled her directly towards the source of the Resonance Ire.

Unable to look into the source Osiris had to shield her eyes making out the silhouette of a huge mythical creature. It’s long sharp teeth devouring the light and cutting through reality like a hot knife through butter.

„Osiris!“

„Osiris!!“

„Wake up!...“, she blinked several times not showing any sign of recognition in her eyes. „Osiris – there’s a call for you. The same guy who contacted us last time… they want to see you.“

The elven Technomancer uprighted herself giving the young adolescent Ork a quizzical look, then she nodded as if he had answered her unspoke question.

„Renraku closed with 0.76 points surplus. No reason for the shareholders to take action. My steed?“, she unwrapped herself from the blanket her body was held prisoner revealing her naked body to the young Ork who stumbled backwards slightly blushing at her exposure.

With elven grace she quickly got into her streetwear putting on her AR-Goggles which she didn’t really need but had gotten used to wear in public. With a raised eyebrow she addressed the young Ork again who quickly found his way out of her quarters and made sure her ‚steed’ was fueled up and ready to go.

Taking advantage of the AR Osiris found herself quickly directed towards the meeting point parking her ‚steed’ directly next to Dale’s massive vehicle. With an approving nod she entered the building expecting to see some familiar faces.

With tall confident strides she joined the gathering staying just within sight of the group but not exposing herself too much. A slight nod towards Dale and Chunin acknowledged their presence, her mien remained stone cold, though.

[Krul]

As everyone began to arrive, they were greeted with a respectful nod from the Johnson, though Valkyrie responded to Chunin's actions with a wink and a smile.

As Osiris arrived, the Johnson stepped forward. "This is everyone now.. sorry for the lack of cocktail weenies, I try and remedy the lack next time."

"In any case, let's get down to business.. you are all some of the best, and your last mission definitely proved that. This week is something different. This next week Ares is shipping in a load of high tech experimental weapons.. we want it. We don't care how you get your hands on the shipment, or how that's up to you.. but we are willing to pay very well for it."

[Perrinmiller]

Dead-eye, listens to the banter, quietly keeping his own counsel.

After hearing the proposal by Mr. Johnson, he asks only one somewhat rhetorical question, “Robbing Hood type situation then? Can provide fire support. No love for Ares.” Obviously a man of few words.

[SalmonMax]

Dale glanced at Dead-Eye quizzically then produced a PDA and started tapping in notes.

"Do you have any tracking information on the specific shipment you're interested in?" he asked.

[Osiris]

„Prometheus burned his fingers?“, Osiris chuckled making a step forward closer towards Dale.

„Ares’ shareholdervalue increased by 0.4% based on the rumor of newly developed handweapons. Consultants propose to wait for an official statement from their PR-Management. Next, sports.“

The slender elven Technomancer stared through the Johnson as if he didn’t exist or was just a mere ghost then lowered her head and tilting it sideways as if she was watching an invisible butterfly. A smile crossed her face, almost girlish and innocent before she assumed her cold business stance again.

[Krul]

With a nod to Dead-Eye, the Johnson chose to respond to Dale's question. "We have a shipment number, but we are not entirely certain if it's the real shipment or a decoy. Find that out, as well as what kind of security involved is your job.." He glances at the two technomancers present, before turning to the others. "Additionally, there's a good chance you won't be the only runners after this shipment.. we're not the only ones who want it."

[Marko Cain]

Marko had to roll his eyes. It wasn't enough that Osiris was off her nut but now they had another guy who could barely use complete sentences. Communication skills were important for people who did what they did and having 2 out of 7 people incapable of proper communication just meant that they'd eventually be two persons' shares richer.

Osiris wasn't too bad, he just wondered why, if she handled AR better than meat reality, she just didn't keep her perceptions in AR all the time since it overlapped her perceptions of the real world anyways. So everyone in the room would look like Strawberry Shortcake characters... so what? At least she'd talk like she wasn't the Down's Syndrome's Patient of the Month. She'd been reliable enough in the past though, so he cut her a break.

"I suppose we're negotiating then." Marko said calmly. "Let the punishment suit the crime, as the saying goes and I think that applies to the payout as well. If the run is against Ares, then Ares personnel are part of the contract. An outside threat is an unknown variable and should be negotiated as a separate contract altogether... or, in laymen terms: bonus incentive."

Politely he nodded to the Jay. "Not to sound greedy, or even ungrateful for this financial opportunity, but we runners don't play by the same rules as CorpSec. We're faster, stronger, and we don't worry about hurting people's feelings so we're better armed and more willing to go the extra mile to ensure the job is done. What sort of incentives are we looking at if we encounter Shadow Opposition?"

[Osiris]

After a short moment of silence Osiris pinged Chunin’s and Dale’s PDA inviting both to chat on a private channel.

Click to reveal..

I don’t mean to be rude so I paged the two of you. If you don’t mind to tell the others, that I second Chunin’s approach of negotiation. Any involvement of a third party makes the job exponantially more dangerous and difficult. My price just doubled.

[Perrinmiller]

Originally Posted By: Marko Cain

"What sort of incentives are we looking at if we encounter Shadow Opposition?"

Dead-eye’s eyes narrow at the mention of other runners robbing the same train, he mutters to himself, “Frak, gonna need my bigger gun.”

He watches the other three that have worked together, trying to determine who does what in their group. Still leaning against the wall (or whatever was available), he decides to speak up in an even tone, “I do believe the man has a point, not a simple train robbery now is it.”

[Einherjar]

"Indeed not." the immaculately-dressed Elf spoke up for the first time since his arrival. Thus far he had seemed content to merely watch and listen, green eyes moving from face to face as each runner spoke and the Johnson answered. The coldly handsome features were impassive: whatever Darkling thought or felt was hidden behind the pale mask of his face. Until now. Sitting with straight-backed elegance on a packing crate, hands folded over the head of his cane, the magus continued.

"As Mister Chunin has succinctly stated, we are expected to not only test ourselves against Ares corporate troops, which in itself could get messy if they have any elite forces on standby, but we are also expected to 'handle' other shadow talent, who are no more bound by procedure or law than ourselves and are an unknown quantity." Darkling's gaze rested on the Johnson, his words spoken with calm force. "I understand that risks are our business, but that very phrase implies that it is business we are engaged in. The causality of risk versus reward must be balanced for a professional. And thus, I find myself in firm agreement with the principle of a pre-arranged bonus, to be paid in the event of shadow opposition being overcome in the achievement of your task."

[Jeremy]

"Yep." The black-haired man piped in, he too breaking from observation of the others. Hands stretching with fingers interlaced as he stood, the warlock spoke. "Not that I didn't understand anyone here, but let's make it simple. You're paying us to do a big job. Now if we most likely have to deal with other shadowrunners, the job just got a bit bigger, and by extension, the pay scale."

"So, what's it going to be Mr. Johnson?"