Best Served Cold

"Well, at least I got a good shower in this time" Melvin thinks to himself "The last time I was at this Gym the water tank busted, that sucked."

After drying off he leaves the public gym (think 2070's YMCA) and gets to the back of his van, hopping in and then getting his not-so-legal gear together: shotgun, armored vest, etc.

He drives down to the Ranch eating his last nutrisoy bar thinking he's gotta get work now or he's done, at this point giving Z-Js* on the street corner is starting to look like a viable possibility.

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The events in the forum from the GM occur at this point.
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"Time is of the essence, very well then."

"Have Hafiz lead us to the scene of the break-in, plug in all relevant data to this commlink address (send personal commcode), and we'll let you know what the situation is looking like"

.......Melvin pauses and realizes the situation, looking at the other runners.

"Unless anyone else has anything they'd like to add?"

-In addition, throw up a general yagoogle! (yahoo! and google merged) and get some basic data on Falcone Corporate Consultants (just the general data: what they do, what their numbers are like, what their corporation rating is), This action is not known to the group.

*Beerfest Reference, roll with it.

Larad was in the middle of a late lunch when the call came, sitting at the mahogany dining table in the sun room of his downtown apartment and reading the daily newspaper. It was a quaint holdover these days, but even in the 2070's there were at least a few people in the world who preferred actual, real, printed paper. His drink of choice, a fine white wine circa 2057, Italian. Not the best, but it was a good year. Suitable enough for a few glasses over a nice lunch of spicy sweet baked salmon and a side of salad.

He happened to be looking through for anything he could turn into a con, or maybe a new job. He had a month's worth of rent left, and then he'd be in a spot of trouble with the landlord. Granted he might be able to sweet talk a week's extension or so.. if he was lucky, but he would have to come up with the money or ship out. And he'd rather come to like his new apartment and the ability to actually have REAL food when ever he felt like it.... so long as he had the cash to continue on this kind of life.

So he was actually rather glad when his Commlink chirped up with the good news. He suspected the payoff wasn't the sort he really needed, but well.. it was a start. Maybe if he was able to land a couple he could actually some how scrape together another 10k to pay the rent with, or maybe land one big one that would cover him for a few months...

Damn.

Ah well, nothing for it. Might as well do what needs to be done or admit your a failure and go back home.. and.. well.. he kind of enjoyed his new life. And it had cost him so much to get it.

Larad calmly finished his lunch, neatly folding up the paper and arranging the used plate, crystal wine glass and silver cutlery just so. He wouldn't actually be cleaning them, that would be the housekeeper's job. He didn't actually have her do much of the cleaning, preferring to do it himself. He was.. picky. But at least he'd learned that if he delegated the building's house keeping staff to just a few specific, and simple tasks, they could at least concentrate on doing the job to his satisfaction. And so, he stood up, crossing over the Persian carpet to his bedroom and into the walk in closet. Shifting aside a number of his suits he focused on the 'work clothes' he had hidden at the back behind everything else. The small weapon safe with his guns, the sectioned off section with his armored suits and prized possessions.

Hmm.. a ranch. Well.. a business suit would likely stick out like a sore thumb there, so something more.. casual. Hmm.. armored under suit with some reinforced jeans and long sleeved shirt. Casual.. it would stand out a little notably in this neighborhood but he'd be able to explain that off easily enough. A few people here happened to own their own ranch or horses. They'd understand his desire not to get his really good clothes too dirty. Slip on a few pieces of the Securetech.. explainable enough because he was going to take his motorcycle this time.. (Formfitting half body suit + armored clothing + forearm and shin guards: 8i/3b [6i/3b encumbrance value])

Lets see... well the ceramic knife was a given, always good to have a backup. Hmm.. wouldn't want too sissy looking a gun, so he'd take the Ruger Thunderbolt. He sort of wished he had a more in between weapon for things like this but oh well. It wasn't the easiest thing to hide either but he did his best, along with a few spare magazines, just in case. And of course his comlink, a few other tools fo the trade thrown into a backpack, and of course his ever handy emotitoy drone. Perfect for giving you that leg up on the meeting with the J.

And then eventually, after a bit of a trip he found himself pulling up to the ranch and noting he wasn't the first one there...

Well that was ok. At least he was on time.

As the first Runner who arrived launches right into the thick of the things without negotiation at all Larad nods "If you don't mind yes..I do have a few other questions to ask." he says with a calm but slightly pointed tone. "I would think, that before most of us accept we would like to know a few more details." he says, turning to Jarone, casually 'playing' with the minidrone in his hand, all the while using it to help him read the situation and try to build up a better picture of what to say and do next. "First off, while the sum you offer is respectable enough, if it's that important I would think it would hold at least some slightly greater value to you.. and so far we have no actual details. Generally.." he says looking to SPCO (for lack of the character's name so far) as if to make a subtle point "Our sort like to know what we are actually getting ourselves into, and the less details, the m...." ore expensive the bill to cover.. unknown and unexpected.. issues."

He pauses then looking back to Jarone "Which of course, no doubt our gracious host was about to get into anyway..." he says softly offering the man a polite nod of his head. "And then we can discuss if we accept the terms or not once we are fully informed." he adds looking back once again to his fellow runner.

"Me lleva la chingada!" Quixote throws down his cards in disgust as the overweight dwarf across from him draws a straight-flush to win the hand. He thought an ace-high flush would be more than sufficient; who in their right mind would EVER bet to draw the middle of an inside straight? And a straight-flush to boot! He stands up angrily, his scrawny 5'3" frame towering over the 4' 11" dwarf.

As the dwarf rakes in his winnings, Quixote's commlink chirps happily to the tune of "La Cucaracha" played by a mariachi band. There's only one guy who has that ringtone, and it always means some money coming his way. Quixote stands up and walks away from the "table," composed of two sawhorses and a synth-ply board. He walks out from under the canopy in which off-duty smugglers, runners and wannabees come to relax in the scorching desert, his miserable luck in the card game already forgotten.

"El Guapo!" Quixote laughs to his long-time fixer friend. "Como estas? How's that little seniorita of yours?" He smiles at his joke, imagining El Guapo's 150kg Ork "seniorita."

"A job, on a ranch? Que, holmes? Am I going to be spreading drek or what?" A rapid response from the other end. Oh, that kind of job. I get it, Tusk-lover... Yeah, you heard me! Fine! Tell him I'll be there, and then I'll come over and stick my Roomsweeper where the sun don't shine! Yeah, you heard me!" He disconnects, looking at the address of the meet.

Quixote's chrome eye covers sparkle as he walks over the hardpan to his tent. It's hot as a hellhound's breath in the plains to the east of Denver, but at least the patrols don't mess with the smugglers out here. And besides, the camp's designed for mobility; his rent includes moving services.

He goes through his checklist of stuff to take. Water, check. Little Boom - his Roomsweeper - check. Big Boom - his modified Ruger sport rifle - check. All the ammo he's got left - 50 rounds for each of his toys. He straps on Little Boom's garish hip holster/ammo belt that looks straight out of a spaghetti western and places Big Boom into her field case. His 4-inch switchblade is still in its usual place in his right combat boot.

He finishes packing his duffle bag with a couple changes of clothes, his tag kit (including spare tags and tag eraser), and his fake SIN and gun permits. He pats his pocket to make sure he has his commlink, and finishes by grabbing his bike racing armor, bike helmet, and goggles.

Walking to his car, one of the camp's Olivers (named for street kids in some old book) runs up. "Where you goin', jefe?" the kid shrills in Esperanto. "Got a job. Here's five to keep my place safe while I'm gone." , Quixote replies in the same tongue, tossing the kid an Atzlan coin. "Another five when I come back and everything's still there."

Quixote walks over to his Rover, a battered but extremely well-maintained 2050 model. He looks at it, then at the Chrysler-Nissan Jackrabbit he won in a poker game a few days back. He decides on the Rover. He dumps his gear in the back, puts on his helmet and armor, straps himself into the rigger cocoon, and turns on the radio signal scanner to the sweet sounds of a smuggler Banshee outmaneuvering Aztech choppers.

After a few hours driving, Quixote arrives at the ranch in a cloud of dust. He parks far from the group, using his magnified vision to scope the ranch. Cattle. Rich place. Real money here. He sees nothing especially interesting, and leaves Big Boom in the SUV to join the group near the barn.

The Johnson has just begun telling his tale when Quixote saunters up to the back of the group. Seeing one of the runners look at him, Quixote glares back, "Whatchoo lookin' at, pendejo?" As the runner returns his attention to the Johnson, Quixote can't resist saying , "Yeah, thought so," just hoping the other will push his luck.

Quixote decides to let the others do the talking - for now.

As he pulls out his roomsweeper and starts to unload the weapon he thinks to himself "Note to self, use the gang-banger as a getaway distraction when necessary, and I've gotta talk to this other guy about negotiations later"

Passing 8 shells and an empty shotgun the Troll says to Hafiz "Without this I'd be left with what god gave me, and that isn't enough these days."

Larad simply shakes his head at the troll. It could make a convincing argument perhaps... against a bunch of gangers. But this wasn't just some small time gang hiring them here. This was some one who apparently had a good chunk of cash, given by the fact the man actually owned a whole ranch, or at least was able to arrange the appearance of such.

"What my.. compatriot means to say is.. we understand your problem, but it seems a few of the people your fixer set you up with are... a little raw. They could use some extra equipment, maybe even in lieu, to an extent of hard cash. Or, well.. failing that maybe a few pointers as to who they could contact to get a few... harder to obtain items. In addition to the payment you offer. I'm sure some one of your stature could easily come to such an arrangement."

Negotiation (3) + Charisma (5) + Emotitoy (6) + Kinetics (3) = 17 dice = 6 Hits

Eyesnwalt, disguntled at the mesage he recieved begins a Data search on this Falcone. Eyesnwalt never liked meeting with J's when he was without information, as with this line of work information was Power. What he didnt like however was the lack of time he had to gather information, he was realy only going to have time to get some basic information befor the meet, maybe something more but he wasnt counting on it, he decided to jump into his drone and head that off twards the meeting while he did some snooping Matrix initiative (Hot Sim) Comlink Responce 5 + Initiative 8 + 1 (14d6=5 hists) = 19; Data Search 4 + Browse 5 (9d6=2 hits)+Data Search 5 + Browse 4 (9d6=22 hists over 9 minutes) (total 24 Hits over 10 minutes of data searching) while he was waiting for his hound to come back with something on the search he wanted to check the area of the meet for any wireless singals Detect Wierless Node: Electronic Warfare 4 + Scan 5 (9d6=3 hits)Electronic Warefare 4 + Scan 5 (9d6= 34 hits over 9 minutes)(total 37 hits over 10 minutes)

Having those tasks started he sets his comlink to buz him when his searches finish after 10 minutes, waiting for those to complete he just watched the land fly by through the sights of the cameras on his Kull Drone as it was heading twards the meeting place

"Quite true, quite true, there are a few of us here who are a little green in this sort of work, but to figure out what work we're talking about we'd need to know what we're required to do. Have you ever seen a mechanic, a plumber, or other skilled laborer give price quotes without looking at what they need to do? Rarely, and those individuals are usually put out of work due to their own folly of not figuring out the difficulty of their task. So at this point I should think we get to learning about the necessary particulars of our task before any sort of bargaining occurs." Taking a look over at Mr Falcone "Though I do admit that the sum appears to be adequate assuming the job is as simple as it currently appears. Anyway, Hafiz, if you could escort me and my compatriots?"

(OOC: Would this come down to a leadership check or what? GM's ruling on this matter I guess.)

Larad considers the situation, well he got a little extra cash out of it, that was good. It would cut down on his overhead for his rent a good chunk, though how much would depend on how well the job actually went. But in this line of work you had to take some risks...

"Provided it's a relatively simple job then.. yes the sum offered is acceptable.." he says. "It would however be nice to have some actual details, though I fully understand that full disclosure is based upon acceptance of the job. That's only natural, but.. well... it does help put one's mind at ease when one knows what to expect."

Negotiation roll if needed: 17 dice = 7 hits

"You be careful with dis, Jafar," Quixote says as he unbuckles his gunbelt. "If Lil' Boom one millimeter outta whack, I gonna rip your eyes out and use your head for a bowling ball." He pulls one shotgun shell out of its loop as he hands the belt over. "I keep dis one for luck, holmes."

Hearing that the cripple is coming along on the run, Quixote laughs. "Just as long as the Ogre pushes ya instead of me, jefe," he says to Falcone.

Finally, he looks around at the group, then puts on a smirk and addresses Falcone. "I'm in, and I'll drive. Now, where we going and what are we grabbing? And what you got that makes up for being in that chair, jefe?"

He'd been quiet, so far, hanging in the shadows, watching everyone without making too big a display. No one in the city knew his real name, but the people who knew him called him Iceblade. Finally, as things looked to be getting going, he stepped forward, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm in."

<OOC> Figured that was a good way of getting in, without being too crazy. He was there all along, just being very quiet!

"I have questions already but I'll save them for later when I have them all collected together, no sense asking you 15 different times when it's not important. Oh by the way guys, it's not my real name but call me Al for now. Yeah, Al will do."

Eyesnwalt finds most of the information he recieved from his search to be unusefull for the most part but he always likes to know what he can about anything he is considering taking on as a job, when he arives at the meet his Drone hovers above the heads of the rest of the team by about ten feet and he listens in on the conversations there having and the 5k reward, he feels that the payout is a bit standard but it dosnt sit well with him he feels that even with what informaion the J had provided something major was beeing left out, but he laughs to himself, his matrix avi which looks like an old Japane anime character starts to laugh. He figures that somethign seems a bit fishy with the furthes signal that he has marked down so he figured thats as good a place as any to start, and meby test these other guys links see what there up to as well, but seeing as if hes going to work with them he feels he has a bit more time to play with them. he activates his stealth program and begins (Breaking in on the fly: Round 1 (3 Hits)(stealth 5)Round 2 (5 hits) (total 8 hits) (stealth 5) Round 3 (2 hits))(total 10 hits)(stealth 5)

While negotiations ensue, Quixote interrupts. "Hey, anyone own that drone up there? If not, I think we should take care of it... Can anyone hack it?"

(OOC: If no one responds in about 10 seconds, Quixote asks whoever's best to hack it. If no one has hacking skill, Quixote tries it.)

After the drone's resolved, Quixote turns to Hafiz. "I wanna go check out the security vids. I don't give a frag about a locked room."

"Hmm, good point. I assumed it was Falcone's. Hang on a sec."

(Shuts off commlink for duration of hacking actions and seeks a position unlikely to get shot at or run through by haywire drone, taking Hafiz with him to cover, in a peaceful and polite manner of course)

(Head pops out from cover)

"Yeah, she's all yours"

(Head ducks under cover)

Larad regards the drone that is apparently causing all the fuss, not certain at this point what to do about the large drone. "Well.. if our host is not worried about it..." he says in a cautious tone, turning to regard Falcone with a currious look. The drone may not be Falcone's, but that didn't necessarily mean it was entirely unexpected.