Loose Ends

"Yes, right," Arpey nodded in thanks to the gruff ork. "Cane should be waiting in the storage section, by one of the tanks. I don't know which one specifically, but it shouldn't be difficult to find him. Just keep quiet while you're looking."

He paused, considering continuing for a moment, before shrugging and going on. "Cane is taking something of a risk meeting you tonight. His shift ends earlier today, so he will be pretending to check out and hiding in the building. He's being compensated already for the risk he is taking, but I want you to understand... well... just, understand the situation."

Bruddah grunts once at the comment about Cane taking a risk, but otherwise doesn't comment. What a corp on a yacht considers 'risky' is a world away from what a beaten down old bounty considers 'risky'. He sweeps his hat off his head, flashing that torn and tattered face to the bright sun - a metaphorically rude gesture, considering his looks. The back of his battered knuckles wiped across his forehead, before the floppy, stained hat is replanted and pulled down low.

"Anythang else ya'll hidin', Mistah Jay, dat we gonna need t'know 'bout? Ya want dis thang put down safely, ain't de time t' be holdin' back." He grunts, trying to convince this man to hand over any ghosts in the closet. Giving this particular 'amateur' Jay a slight benefit of a doubt by asking straight up.

. o O (You don't bring a group of heavy handed thugs to your fancy yacht; Thats just too much information in the wrong hands, 'less you're new to the game) O o .

<OOC: Rolling for negotiations to reveal any known 'surprises', 4d6 -- 3 Hits >

Elsewhere, a little soul flitted away.

They still weren't believing him. Arpey felt like burying his face in his hands, but instead he frowned, his eyes clouding over. "I know that, in your line of work, trusting someone else is a dangerous, and foolhardy act. I don't expect you to trust me, or believe me. But I need you to succeed. I..." his shoulders slumped, the mask of professionalism slowly slipping away as he spoke. "I don't have any other options. If you fail... no, there is no 'if'. That's it, end of the line. If I come back to my client to report a failure, it's over. I am literally placing my life... and the future of my child and fiancee... in your hands." He swallowed hard, his head shaking slowly. A slight tremble was sneaking into his voice, though he fought to conceal it. "My corpor- my- my client has no obligations to my family once I'm gone, and he would have no qualms getting rid of me. I'm sitting on a razor's edge here, and I need your help. I know I've offered a lot of money for a simple drop off, and I understand that six of you is a lot for this type of job... but I need you to succeed. If I thought hiring more of you would make your chances of succeeding any better I would, a hundred runners even! Though I think any more than this and the chance of security risks and overcrowding would grow too great."

He stared for one long moment at Bruddah, unblinking, before looking at each of the runners in turn. "So please, believe me when I say that if I had any other information, any reason to believe something will go wrong, I would tell you. I'm not in the habit of risking my life just for the sake of giving my associates a greater challenge." Arpey sat back, hands raised in a surrendering gesture, indicating he was done. Now it was up to them to decide if they trusted him or not.

Elsewhere, near the target building, a solitary soul stops. He pauses, slightly confused. "That map was...non-representative." He looks around, slowly getting his bearings. "Ah, I see. East is North. How irritating."

Kit surveys the surrounding area, deftly avoiding line of sight with the target building. A highway to the north, a parking lot to the east, a strip mall to the south, and an apartment complex to the west. Kit surveys them, seeking a good vantage point.

A flash of magic causes him to pause. Odd. Strip malls do not usually do that. Also, apartment complexes do not typically have furtive magical barriers around them. Hm. The strip mall first. The barrier isn't going anywhere.

A ghostly form slides into a useful wall. A single eye observes.

Wife and child. There's an old story of Bruddah's, the torn up ork working his jaw again as he considers. Either the Johnson was a -damn- good actor, or he just laid out his life for a bunch of nuyen thirsty muggers; In which case, he really was desperate. Either way, it didn't look like there was much else to be had talking to this fellow. The ork glances once more to the rest of the group, grey eyes flitting from face to face to whiskered, cat face. Monkeys and keeblers. But money was money.

"Mmph. Reckon if there ain't nuttin' else t'be said, den, ya'll outta turn dis lil' boat 'round. We's got work t'git done." A glance to the other Runners, now, with thick brows knitting under his torn up old hat. "Lessen dere be mo' pissin' 'bout t' be done, er' thangs I ain't dun tink of."

He then glances back to the Mister Jay, and grumbles under his breath. But he's committed to the cash, and just tugs his hat a bit lower as the wind threatens to pull it off his scarred up features. Moving back to over look the railing, grey eyes watching clear blue waters with a pissed off frown.

. o O (Ain't never seen water so pretty. My brats will love this place... someday.) O o . He glances back to the assorted 'crew', and grumbles nonsensical words. . o O (Just a few more lives to ruin, and a few more bodies to climb over.) O o .

Kit's astral form put its little ghostly paw over its little ghostly eyes. A wage mage lighting up. What a waste of time.

Kit turned his attention back to the target building. Time to find a good vantage point.

"well seems straight forward" shrugs non committaly "but i have yet to run into a cake walk yet. i would just need to pick up a few toys from home." sits down and crosses his arms and waits for the rest of the plan before he makes a final list of 'toys' to bring.

Lin looks at the others, then glances at the money chip on the table. "I've got a few contacts I could go to for looking up a hacker... unless one of you knows somebody specific."

Bruddah glances over to Lin, and nods once. "Gitcher boy on de line, den. Git hisself on stand by, but be fo' sho' dat boy don' go pokin' 'round in nuttin'. We ain't needin' t' have he finger get all twitchy an' set up a alarm fer we even start de damn thang." he then rolls his thick shoulders, and quietly taps his commlink - projecting a temporary 'ping' to anyone else with commlinks.

"Dat gonna be our talkie hole. Go git ya'll stuff, meet ya'll jes' a block south, round 'bouts six thirty. Dat give ya'll five 'ours er' so t' thank -real- hard 'bout how t' git dis damn thang done. And since dat give us three 'ours t'do it in, we ken take a peek at dat place from a bit off an' figgur out what we gonna do." He idly flips a thumb at the map, as he speaks. "Dat gonna take us lil' far. Ain't gonna do it all. Gotta -see- wit' our own eyes."

He then works his tusked jaw again, considering this ill-fit crew that he's a part of. ".. Lessen anybody git theyselfs better idea."

Gwydian leaned forward, after having let the others run through options. "I do have a couple of questions for you, my good man. First, would there be issues with a purloined letter approach? Or in other words, just delivering the package openly, as if there was nothing in the world odd about it? If they aren't concerned that your contact might be getting such a package, there would be no reason to suspect it. And if they are concerned, then that's something we need to know regardless of what approach we take. Also, while I understand your position and will do my best to keep your child safe, you may wish to consider your stated position on the pay. I'll take the job either way, but its clearly vital to you that we pull this off. Do you REALLY want us to chose a different, more risky method, in order to get full pay and as a result risk failure if the best method we arrive at is one based on a distraction? I assure you, we'll do our best to avoid the need for such actions, but limiting our options makes success more difficult.

OOC: Negotiation check to convince him he really does want to pay us 20k either way... 11 hits

clinton grabs his comlink and sets uploads himself to the network. "sounds like a plan to me" shrugs and stands to look over the water... "beautiful" he mutters under his breath as he soaks in what, if something goes wrong, could be his last day as a free man. but hey, thats why he does this not just for the money but for the thrills. 'now thats a man after my jumpy little heart' he thinks to himself. maybe we can get out a lot better this way and breaths a sigh of relief hoping the johnson sees the logic in that.

The following moments were spent in silence as Arpey regained his composure, but sure enough the yacht leaned to the left, slowly getting reoriented to head back to Salmon Bay. Arpey listened to Gwydian's plea, nodding slowly the whole time. "If you can set up a convincing enough ruse to be able to deliver the package in a legitimate manner, I don't see why it wouldn't work. Just make sure you get the package to Cane and don't let anyone else examine or see it. If you can come up with something creative like that, and it works, then yes... you will receive the full amount in payment either way. That's the best I can do, please stop asking me to modify the deal."

The yacht eased back into the harbor, carefully navigating back into its spot against the pier. All in all, the trip had only taken a mere 20 minutes, but it felt like much longer to Arpey. He stood as the boat came to a stop, looking to everyone in the group, pausing a bit longer on the cat. "If there are any other questions, let me know now, but I understand that something may come up later. If you need anything else later today or tonight, you can contact me at this commcode," he reached into his pocket to remove a folded piece of paper and place it on the table. It opened up as soon as he let go of it, and a box appeared on it with a series of numbers printed inside it. "The map and address are also on there, just so you have a backup." At his words a drop-down menu faded into view at the top of the piece of paper, displaying the different files available for viewing, including Cane's picture, the layout of the warehouse, and the extra notes from the briefing.

Kit nods, satisfied. A little soul returns.

The cat on the deck stirs, blinking in the sun. He stretches and yawns, then curls up to sleep again.

A voice filters into the minds of the runners. "I apologize, gentlemen, lady, for my absence the past five minutes. If I have missed anything, you may brief me later. The orientation of the building on that map is misrepresented. The entrance is in fact East-facing, not South." A recounting of the features surrounding the building. "As for the building itself, the magical security seems minimal. I saw only a single watcher spirit and no wards. Nevertheless, a mage likely works there, if only to provide the watcher."
A pause. Yes, no need to relate that debacle. Kit was still annoyed that he allowed himself to be so easily distracted, and Smolder's derisive laughter was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
"The Watcher provides a problem. Sneaking by them is difficult, and while they are stupid, that only serves to make them impossible to distract." A soulful smile. "Perhaps...yes...perhaps we ought to find out what is contained in that facility. Specifically, what is contained that is worth stealing."

Bruddah's thick hand reaches down to pick up the piece of paper, loading it into the comm link attached to his wrist - along with the picture of Cane. He then places it back on the table for the others to scan in; Despite his 'less than urbane' looks, Bruddah ain't that stupid. Can't be, and survive in the shadows for long. He then blinks grey eyes as that 'voice' reappears, and gives its news.

Eyebrows furrow over his slopping brow, and Bruddah shifts those grey eyes aside to Arpey as he works his tusked jaw. "Huh." He grunts, at the news. A few taps on the commlink at his wrist, and the saved map file rotates. Then that gaze goes back to the others. "Plan's de same, none de less. Six thurty, 'bout a block south. Guess we gonna do a lil' resarch too, whiles we out an' 'bout. Still given us 'round 'bouts five ours t' git whatcha need in de way o' tools an' info. And den given' us 'bout two hours fer plannin', an' hour fer runnin'." He glances once to Lin, and nods his head.

"Go git yer wire jockey. We gots t' figgure 'way 'round 'bout dat ghost wit'out alertin' nothin'."

Having said all that he intends too, the big bad ork begins to exit the boat - taking a moment to type in the boat's -name-, as printed on the side. You never know; That 'simple mistake' with the map could be a pre-emptive sign of things to come. Other little 'oopsies' the Johnson forgot to mention.

. o O (Reckon I'll just keep the comm-line open, 'case one of them keeblers or monkies gets all chatty.) O o .

Bruddah, for his part, is going to go look into buying a pair of binoculars - and types off a quick letter for his own brother.

>>> Begin Transmission
>>> From: B
>>> To: H

Bubba,

Got me a weird one here. Fellow seems straight up enough, but he's either clumsy or a real damn fine actor. Either way might get me good and fragged. Mind seeing what you can pull up on this place, in the way of what they got in there that's so damn important?

>>> Insert Warehouse.IMG && Address.TXT

One of them short sales. Not a whole drekkin lotta time to work with - less than five hours - and nothing but keeblers and monkies to show for it. If you get a spare moment, take a look at this fellow, see what you make of it.

>>> Insert ContactCane.IMG
>>> Insert BoatNameAndRegistryNumber.TXT

'Preciate whatever you can get me, fella. Next Chook's on me, if I get this one pulled out.

- Brother
>>> End Transmit
>>> Sending...
>>> Sent.
>>> Comm Status -> Open

A final thought is pulsed to the other runners. "It may be feasible to simply black out their security. See if anyone can find anything in that facility which we may plausibly attempt to steal. If we let them think our purpose was theft, they will have an adequate explanation for their blindness and will not look further." With that, the cat stirs, stands, and slinks off the boat.

Bruddah had spent the next two hours picking up a fairly expensive pair of binoculars; It ate into what was left of his savings, but he couldn't afford to be cheap on a job as shakey as this. And then he gets the message from Hork; Holed up and hunted down. Bruddah check his commlink's time again - two hours until the meeting at six thirty. With a disgusted grunt, the ork considered letting Hork hang until -after- this run was over.

But, blood is blood.

Bruddah aborts his plan to start scoping out the area from afar with his binoculars, and instead summons up a taxi as he sends another message to Hork.

>>> Begin Transmission
>>> From: B
>>> To: H

Bubba,

Where abouts they got you holed up? I'll see if I can't shake a few things loose and get ya'll out.

-Brother

>>> Message Sent
>>> Comm Status -> Open

. o O (Two hours. Two hours to pull Hork's fat out of the fire and make it back at six thirty. Then two hours after that for the run to begin. Drek, this gonna be tight) O o .

OOC> Bincoculars (Rating 3) purchased at 150 Nuyen. Character sheet edited to reflect. No availability rating, no roll necessary.

Lin nods to Bruddah, and her fingers flicker as they fly over a virtual keyboard, composing a message to Anna, her usual fixer.

Hey Anna

Got a bit of an odd job going here, and we need a bit of subcontracting. Could you find a hacker to take care of some mid-level security hardware and have them ready for briefing by six thirty tonight? The hacking's worth 6k, with another thousand for you in finders fees. Sorry for the rush.

Thanks again,

Crane

Looking at the others, she says "All right, I should have a security specialist lined up by the rendezvous. I'll be picking up my equipment for the run - if any of you need a hand with something in the meantime, feel free to let me know - getting my stuff shouldn't take to long."

colton gets up "im off see you all at 1830" walks down the way flicks his eyes back and takes a quick still and sends it to his comlink and uploads it to sam

begin transmission:

hey sam any way you can aquire some info on a boat? the pic is attached. and oh... you totally owe me for this drek I havent had this short of a notice for a job since i got the boot. expecting an anwser in about 3 hours time.

load boat.pic

end transmission

he then walks to his vehicle picks up another damn notice from some random lonestar punk, crumples it and gets in and heads for home. when he arrives he is greeted by his virtual pet and sits down after taking off the monkey suit and switches back into his comfortable black t-shirt a pair of black jeans puts his vest back on and his lined coat over that. re laces his shined combat boots and gives himself the once over. once satisfied he grabe his bow and breaks it down into its briefcase. His arrows he stick in a bag slung across his back and his weird 'broadheads' he stuffs into the lining of the coat. he gives himself the simple jump test re-secures the bag as it shifted uncomfortably and sits to play his games to calm until he receives the info he wants from sam. and failing that sets an alarm to give him a good 15 minute on site waiting for the rest of the group.

Kit focuses a moment, then looks up. A wispy looking fellow hovers there, all of 3 inches tall and wearing a top hat and dapper suit. He looks at his summoner, a look of imbecilic good-nature on his face. "Ehh...yah?"

"Hello, my little friend. I want you to find this man." was not exactly what was said. "This man" was in fact the fellow watching Mr. Johnson before, his identity and astral signature communicated to the watcher perfectly. "Once you find him, remember where he is and then go to Flik's and wait for me there. Do you understand?"
The little man gives a vigorous nod. "Y'p."
"Do not say anything to anyone except for me. Do you understand?"
"Uh...y'p." Another nod.
"You are to remain unseen by anyone but me if possible. Do you understand?"
"Y'p." Nod.
"Now, what have I asked you to do?"
"F'nd m'st'r 'ngry f'ce 'n go t' Fl'k's."
"And?"
"T'lk t' n'b'dy b't yeh. Steh 'nseen."
"Good. Off you go." The little watcher flies off. Kit pads into an alley, out of sight, and curls up. Lin hears mellifluous words in her mind, beseeching, yet imperious. "Please come and meet me at Flik's in an hour. Here is the address." An address flashes into her mind. "I will see you then."
The voice recedes. In the little alley, there is a rustle of rust wings.

Outpost:
In a mere hour Colton received a response back from from Sam:

"Hey look, Taylor, I didn't know, man. I just thought you could use the work, forgive a guy for tryin' to help! Anyway, I got the info on that boat you sent, nice picture! I've been thinking of buying myself a little number like that, maybe a thirty footer, what do you think? Would you go fishing with me if I bought one? Because I don't want to go through all that trouble and then wind up never using it, ya know?

Anyway, as I was saying, I got the info you wanted. The boat is registered to a Black Ball Transport Inc, a small ferry company. Ran the name by a buddy who used to be with Lone Star, still has some pull in the system, I guess. He says the company was the target of a reckless endangerment suit some years back, something about using boats longer than their expected usefulness, but apparently they settled out of court. Judging by the looks of that pic you sent me I'd say that's probably not a problem anymore, don't ya think?"

---

Jondera:
Ten minutes later, Anna sends a confirmation of Lin's request. Just over an hour after that she sends back another message, this time a voice recording. "Alright Lin, took longer than I had hoped but I got a guy to do the job. Now... I must apologize in advance, he's a bit eccentric... but my other team says he's a damn good hacker in his own right, so just put up with him and he'll get the job done. Here's his commcode: 1290-0083-4154-7294. He's on a job right now but he's got some downtime for the rest of today, and he liked the idea of pulling in some extra nuyen, so give him a call. Oh... and he goes by the name.... 'Fizzle.' Yeah... don't ask me."

---

Book:
Bruddah receives a rather interesting message thirty minutes later.

"Bruddah,

How soft you thinks I am? If I can't even lose some Knight Errant assholes then you might as well as shoot me next time you sees me, got it? You do your thing, I call you if I need you and not a second before.

-Brother"

>>> Begin Transmission
>>> From: B
>>> To: H

Bubba,

Alright then. Ain't gonna be reachable till tomorrow after this. Give them smoother sons of apes hell.

-Brother

>>> Transmission Sent
>>> Comm Status -> Switching From Open To Silent

Bruddah closed the lid on his wrist-bound commlink, half a grin twisting his scarred up face. THAT was the Hork he knew. Since he already had the taxi cab summoned, Bruddah simply changed the destination - a mile south east of the warehouse address, so that he could start walking his way west and wind up a few blocks south of the warehouse. Find a good building to get on top of. He had two hours before the rest of his team was supposed to show up; And two more hours after that to prep the run. Might as well get a peek at this hidey hole they were going to be running at.

Over forty miles away, a Sparrowhawk, it's red wings beating, lands on a street lamp near a parking lot. It's eyes flit from place to place, as all birds of prey do, but this one spends much of its time looking west towards a particular building.

Lin bikes back to her apartment from the docks, and grabs what she figures she'll need for the run. Grabbing up her daypack, she shoves her camo jumpsuit into the bottom, following it with her Alta, and with spare clips for her Beretta (which is still on her hip), the Alta, and for her cybergun, just in case. Lastly, she dumps in her white noise generator, and grabs her sword. Carrying the pack and sword out to her cycle, she slides them into the sidecar so that the sword isn't readily visible, locks up her apartment, and motors off towards the address for "Flik's."

She's most of the way there when she gets Anna's reply. Nodding her satisfaction, she sends her friend a receipt confirmation, then sends a quick message to the rest of her team.

I've got arrangements made on a hacker - my fixer says he's a bit eccentric, but does good work.

- Crane

>>> Begin Transmission
>>> To: Crane
>>> From: Bruddah

Crane,

Don't matter if he wears mickey ears and prances nude in his basement, so long as he'll get the job done. Still got a little time. Gonna see what I can see out of that little hidey hole.

-Bruddah

>>> Message Sent
>>> Com Status -> Silent

Bruddah closes his commlink again, and grunts. Bad spot, no high buildings. Where's the high buildings when it's convienant? Tusked jaw working, Bruddah begins the slow process of working his way northwest of his current position, towards the apartment buildings to the -west- of the warehouse. Taking the -long- way around, to avoid seeming too obvious.

. o O (Lets see if that place got roof-top access...) O o .