Shadowrun ~ Wait, What Van?

OOC

Johnson looked wearily, as the 18 wheeler armored vehicle on treads slowly filled with runners, he pressed a big red button turning on the vents as his bright orange skin shined in the muddled light. The only parts of him visible being illuminated by the cherry of his cigar, as his shaved down horns clanked against the bulwark of the vehicle. He waited until the car was full before he spoke, his voice muffled as it oozed around the tobacco in his mouth. He wiped a bit of ash from his pin-stripe suit pants, "Welcome ladies and gents, so glad you could come." He banged twice on the wall behind him the back of the carrier closed, all of the runners were inside nice and cozy. He exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"As you may have guessed, my name is Mr Johnson, and I'll be your handler for this evening.We are currently on our way to the Redmond Barrens in Seattle, now I know it's a bit of a shit-hole, but we have to know you can handle the work we're giving you."

He grinned, "Now I'm assuming, since you all are here you're at least a bit curious in what we're about to do. I can't give you any information right now, and I'm sure you understand. Now there is a certain young man by the name of Jeffrey Meyers. Jeff here is a decker with the Crazy 86's a local elvish street gang. All you have to do is pick Jeffrey up, and dance him over to me. Here's a data chit" Johnson said pulling a small 2 inch piece of copper from his pockets. "Access it with your Comm-links and it'll give you any information you might need. Now I'll leave you to talk amongst yourselves as we head to our destination."

Johnson without another word stood up and slid open a door, he settled in next to the droid driver. He called to the back, "If you need me, just knock."

Oh how Mimi loved Docile Mode. Were it not for the additional programming feature, the giant freight train of metal that was Murderzier would have been hesitating to get into the armored vehicle.

"Cramped quarters in a fueled vehicle not advised" it would consistently tell her as she tried to shove the droid inside any sort of car. Only when she took the time to pull out her laptop and force the thing to comply did it finally enter. But now, it followed her every command without need for shuffling through her pack to pull out a laptop, log in, and find the specific directives needed to get on with her life. It sufficed to say after a few ordeals with vehicles, she went through some series renovation in the large droid. Mimi needed only command it vocally, having finally acquired an advanced interfacing program to allow verbal communication and recognition, or even just to point at the place she wanted the droid to go to.

Both Mimi and the droid stepped on board the armored carrier, situating themselves down towards the back. Having no human ass with which to sit down, the droid simply laid across the metal flooring. With a single button press on her wrist-worn device, the droid shut down slowly, its head lowering to the ground with a clank. Mimi leaned back in her seat and stared at the ceiling with dreary eyes, expressive of her long amounts of time spent in front of a monitor with quite obvious evidence of her lack of sleep in addition. Despite her uncaring expression, she was quite focused on her driver's briefing, picking out key pieces of information to mark down mentally. The data chit he presented was quickly snatched up as Mimi practically lunged forward to grab it, and she just as fervently slipped the chit into the same wrist device to analyze it. As far as Mimi could tell, she was the only one who wasn't going to be on the field doing the dirty work, and thus she felt responsible towards informing her companions about everything; she was a virtual eye in the sky after all.

The MTN Lion droid -this time around- carried along with it a pair of autonomous hover droids no bigger than a human head when deployed. With small cameras and a directive to increase combat awareness for the group, they'd do well to let everyone know about their surroundings. She'd probably hang around some dingy cafe with her collection of computers while the others went outside to play.

Well, it was certainly a different kind of job. Stepping into the armored transport one began to wonder why the extra protection was needed, but when their destination was given Anders understood why. Redmond Barrens wasn't exactly a vacation resort, and if anyone saw a few Runners walking about their reception would be less than favorable. Not that it bothered him much, fights were his way to get a high of sorts, certainly more exciting than his days as a mediocre Hacker. He certainly would stand out now too, that much was for certain. Though his handlers often complained about how he carried his sword, loosely attached to his hip, he kept it that way for ease of access. Usually. Johnson had proven to be a bit more influential than his previous employers, plus he wouldn't jeopardize the possible payout he'd be receiving. Now his blade was strapped at an angle across his back, the handle of which just barely poking out from beneath his long coat, should he need it.

"So pretty much an extraction then huh...?" he asked incredulously once their handler had left the back. No doubt Johnson could hear him, but the man knew about Anders' attitude, if it were a real problem he'd never been brought onboard. "Easy enough I guess. Waltz in, kill a few shmucks and waltz on out with this Meyers guy in tow. As long as I get to use this..." he paused, unsheathing the sword and holding it out at arms length. The razor thin yet durable sword glistened faintly in the dim lighting of the truck, it's blade nearly reaching the empty seat across from him. "I'm happy."

No doubt the others of the group had learned by now that Anders was rather talkative, and had a bad habit of running his mouth. The effects of that were apparent, his bioware limb wasn't given to him by choice. Still, hard to argue with something that made your job easier. Sliding his sword back in place the white haired mail grinned, tilting his head back and glancing up at the ceiling of the truck. Just a short while ago he was doing small jobs, as most of them were, here was his shot at the big times. No more doing nearly worthless jobs for hardly any pay, he'd be able to earn some serious cash and perhaps even upgrade his prosthetics a bit.

"You guys are really quiet... You know that?" he finally said, breaking the temporary silence that his ceased talking had brought about. He was restless, ready to get going and get his boots on the ground. Perhaps he was almost childish in regards to that, unable to sit still and wait for them to arrive at their destination. Adjusting his position again he sat upright, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms and leaning against the wall of the truck. When things finally were set in motion he'd be the sole Street Samurai of the group, doing most of the fighting up close. Which was fine with him, he reveled in it. Anders couldn't help but wonder what the others saw in their positions though, they seemed so droll compared to his.

LC was the first on the bus and didn't bother to look up at all as Johnson spoke, there really wasn't much cause to. Instead, she was performing magazine and weapon checks for all the little weapons she kept tucked away in various sheaths, pouches and holsters. In one ear an old earphone rested, playing soft French jazz with a gentle, lovely voice cascading over the melody; she always enjoyed the juxtaposition of death and calming music. Her eyes faintly drifted across the cabin as the others piled in and they got moving. Typically her odd little smile played across her thin, elvish lips as she pulled her handgun's railing back; she slid that one into a holster on her lumbar, retrieving its mate from the other side and starting the process all over again.

She'd never known too much about hacking and was never too concerned with robots in general, but guns? She loved guns. LC remembered an old hip-hop song from around 75 years ago, she hadn't been alive then obviously, but she'd always liked older music...it was a love song a man wrote about his .45 and that was something she could get behind. Lovingly, she jammed the clip into the pistol and pulled its rail back as well, looking for a moment as if she might kiss the death toy.

It never mattered too much where they were sending her, she just loved to play. However, her eyes broke away from her boot knife to stare up at Anders as he pulled out his Jinroh blade, her eyes rolled and she went back to her equipment check. Of course, she gave a soft smile - his cockiness was always entertaining to say the least and it was quite exciting to watch him work; she had respect for what he did and he might even be able to keep up with her own swordplay. She rarely took a long blade into battle any more either way, but the idea of that sort of spar made her light up just a little more.

LC always looked nearly ecstatic before a mission and was generally one of the quietest members, it always seemed to serve her better to let her blades and bullets do the talking. She had a feeling she'd be giving a lecture later, Seattle wasn't exactly a walk in the park. With a swift, practiced motion, she plucked the earphone out, turned it off and placed it in one of the various pouches at her waist. "Mimi, eet looks as though you need some coffee, yes?" Her odd combination of accents was a little off putting at first, English, French and Elvish, but they rolled off her tongue smoothly and settled into the ears like water in a container after awhile. She'd taken a liking to the human girl and her droids, her efficiency was never questioned.

She placed the boot knife back in the sheath and tugged her assault rifle off of her shoulder, still gazing over at Mimi as she started to check and tug and mess with her beloved rifle.

"Hey, Mimi, the passenger-compartment is for passengers not toys" Vansen protested as 'Lion' curled-up, looked-up expectantly, then powered-down suddenly... He nudged the skeletal frame with his boot though, just to be sure...

Mr Johnson gave the mission, and Vansen's stomach did its best impersonation of a newbie trapped in a nullo-gravity field after being force-fed a flashbang... Shit...

As he was distracted, Vansen tripped over another one of Mimi's machines, and cussed under his breath. Although they were both riggers, they were of two different styles. Mimi seemed to enjoy hanging-back and enjoying her latte while her store-bought creations did all the real work... Vansen was SIN-less, so it really didn't bother him that he didn't have a codename, or if his face was seen... it helped with his attitude that liked getting his hands dirty doing things quick and simple on the spot; there probably were more foolhardy runners with his attitude, but something told him that people in his particular line of work are only allowed one mistake...

The fact things were going to happen in the elfin-side of the barrens already gave him a clue as to what sort of VIP they had to find, "Looks like Johnson found you a new boyfriend, Lassie." He said to the resident team-elf in a tone he reserved only for when speaking of the nostalgic gun-happy blue-blood as he press-checked his over-bored Mosin in .45 Super-Magnum*, making sure it had detachable 10 round magazines from the PSL. Ten plus one in the chamber was better than five shots total-capacity of the original 91/30, and the steel/Iron/TOMBAC/WTF-BBQ cored bullets the thing fired since 1943 were practically made for slaying elves.

And if that didn't work... there was still the bayonet... also handy for unscrewing deck-plates...

<4 hours later>

The APC screeched to a halt unexpectedly, and Johnson stood up and openned his arms wide, showing the flabby orange skin, and his stout Orcish grin, "Well, here we are ladies and gents, the windy city. Pick up our man and bring him here." The surroundings were a cracked grey, the sky the color of a TV turned to a dead channel, snow crunched under foot as obvious Corps execs set up a perimiter around the vehicle, their large bodies and thick body plating swaggering in the dim-light. The lot was vacant and quiet after a few minutes, and soon everyone but the runners faded from view, Johnson's voice spoke from the ether. "Don't worry, we're still here we just don't want to spook our guests."

Near the warehouses the buildings were a stony grey, elves flitted to and fro, dancing throughout the city as loud dubstep wafted between the dark alleys. One warehouse in particular seemed particularly vibrant, with large holographic graffiti murals on the wall that change from neon pink to lime green. A large dish resting ontop of it.

"So this is the big bad Redmond Barrens huh...?" Anders glanced around the lot he crossed his arms, smirking a bit in doing so. "Not all that bad if you ask me. Kind of a dump, hardly seems worth it's reputation though." Perhaps it was his arrogance, but he hardly saw why this place was thought of so poorly, even on their way in. Sure there were some shady looking characters, then again any city had that. As the group stood in the lot he couldn't help but look around at his fellow Runners, noting almost immediately he was the only one without a firearm. They weren't his style, but perhaps bringing a pistol along wouldn't have been completely absurd by the looks of it. Still, he took pride in his abilities and was sure to make use of them. If they all wanted to use guns then fine, he'd show them a sword was just as viable, no matter how advance technology had gotten. Plenty of thugs and Runners alike had plating to protect them from bullets, but a blade was a blade. Unless you had a particular skin then, bioware or not, it'd cut.

He was already getting on the nerves of some of his fellow Runners, of that Anders was sure. He talked a lot, perhaps too much, but his ability as a Samurai made up for the incessant jabbering. He'd clam up once things got serious or he was given orders, but otherwise he loved to make small talk. The others didn't seem all to into that though, he'd be wasting his breath most likely if he tried striking up a conversation. With a bit of reservation then he would keep quiet for the most part, resorting to fiddle with his jacket absentmindedly as they stood there. They'd been given the mission and dropped off, but he had no idea what the game plan was, or for that matter who was supposed to take the lead. Humming to himself he simply stood in place, his eyes focused on the other members as he waited expectantly for someone to speak up.

"Oh but I'll bet your pockets are stuffed with toys too, yea?" Mimi retorted playfully, leaning forward with a laugh. She quickly picked up the smaller crawler drone Adam nearly tripped over wordlessly, inspecting its integrity just in case the clumsy Rigger happened to dislodge something important. She shot a glare, but went back to ensuring the hardware was still in perfect condition. Mimi put the inactive drone back down, this time out of harms way and leaned back for the ride. Eyes still glued to the ceiling, she responded to LC almost passively.

"There's only so much coffee can do for a person like me," she smirked, "I'm sure at this point that there is no hope for my sleep cycle ever normalizing." She clenched her eyelids together tightly, trying to ensure they remained moist, and then rubbed them with her gloved hand. "I'm totally not tired," she reassured. For the most part, it was true; Mimi had a habit of remaining awake even when her body told her enough was enough. "Exhaustion" to her only counted for physical aspects. Mentally, she could keep going forever and as far as she was concerned, mental ability was far superior to physical ability. It resulted in more than a few accidents around home, mostly concussions and frequent but mild sickness. She had already taken a long-lasting liveliness pill hours before, as she wasn't about to fall asleep on the team and risk their lives. In any case, inactivity on her end would engage autonomous mode in the MTN Lion, and it could follow their orders in case she was compromised.

When the vehicle had finally come to a stop, she slapped her face a couple times unnecessarily and hopped out after reactivating the MTN Lion. The two crawler drones accompanying them latched onto the larger four-legged drone and disengaged themselves. No need to waste power. With a sigh, she stepped out into the dim lighting of the Redmond Barrens. She lifted up her wrist device and began announcing to the team,

"Says our guy is located in the Warehouse District, Building 3C. We get a bonus if we extract him quietly," Mimi immediately looked towards both Anders and LC, "Here's a picture, if any of you wanna get a gander." She twisted her wrist around to give a quick glimpse at the shoeless man before lowering her arm. "I'll be lookin for some place to stay, in the meantime, Murderizer and pals will keep you company," Mimi announced. She pressed a few more buttons and began walking off with a half-assed wave goodbye. The drone and its smaller companions remained in place, now at the will of their peers.

"I wouldn't judge a book by eets cover," LC spoke with her smooth, flowing speech patterns before juxtaposing them with a loud, brutal-sounding neck crack, "there's a lot to be said when the main part of the city looks like another city's underbelly." She clutched her assault rifle by the pistol grip, eyes flitting to and fro between everything, searching for any sign of danger without making it obvious that's what she was doing. Her stoicism held fast as made a final pass, a sense of unease taking hold. LC genuinely enjoyed being a runner, she doubted there was ever another profession she was fit for, but she always got the jitters before every mission - not that anyone could see from the outside.

Gazing down at the picture of the mark she gave a little scoff and shot an eye back to Vansen, "Boyfriend? Peh. Let us find this one and be done." He totally wasn't her style...even if he might be single and she spent more time cleaning and taking care of her guns than she did anything else, that wasn't even an option. She glared at Vansen for seemingly no reason and returned to looking forward, ignoring her manic inner monologue...damn the jitters.

"Mimi. Imo herme, od imo raeint sa*," she spoke soft and flowing in her native Sperethiel. Even if LC had never really had a family to speak of, she did truly care about her runners and feel for them the same as she imagined anyone could feel about a family. They did their best to keep each other safe and do their jobs efficiently, what else was there? She had brothers and sisters here and she'd be damned if she let any harm befall them; the thought twitched her lips up into an off-looking little grin, an intensity burning in her eyes as she looked forward into the night.


*"Be well, and be true to yourself."

"Just... don't do anything stupid, Anders. The elves here don't take too kindly to outsiders; not as badly as Chicago, though." He warned the ninja-demon-samurai wannabe as he heard Mimi's little retort and reflexively press-checked one of his pockets to make sure all his explosively-propelled 'goodies' were accounted for.

When leaving the APC and final farewells were to be had, Vansen kept a distance from the others --but not especially-so from 'LC'-- and tried his best to keep his shit together as he strolled nostalgically down they alley, filled with memories of his days running before being a runner.

He wasn't keeping himself dissociated from the others so much for his own safety, as theirs, with LC being handy enough to bail him out if somebody with a grudge recognized him --yet not getting the others involved. He also kept far the hell away from MTN Lion, especially since he saw Mimi yawning as they left, knowing any moment auto-mode would kick-in.

With hands deep in the pockets of his duster, one [R] holding the .45 supermag Obrez, the other [L] holding a magnetic manipulator which was strong enough to twist a bullet at the ground and still swerve it back into the air and powerslam the ferrite-cored armor-piercing slugs into the dome of whoever happened to piss him off. The mag-clamp was also handy for keeping Mimi's 'toys' from getting too playful around his person.

"L, what does your cop-instinct tell you 'bout this particular 'book'? Same thing I'm thinking?" He asked, as Vansen had to decide which hand to remove from his pocket to get is occulars to switch to thermals, since the blink-switch was kaput again. He soon opted to use his left hand, figuring a gun would be more useful than a grapnel this early into his homecoming.