The sky is a darkening green, giving those in the know a hint about which kind of pollution is being lit up by the setting sun, and the streets are booming with life. People both in and out of the shadows go about their business. As you're well aware, it's not always easy to tell who belongs where. The concrete, steel and asphalt of the Sprawl streets are still slick after a full day of rain, and aging neon signs find their mirror image in shallow puddles, as opposed to the floating Augmented Reality Objects in every language imaginable, existing only in the collective hallucination that is the Matrix. Together, they bring color to the otherwise black, grey and brown streets of Seattle.

At the end of a series of snaking alleyways, the lights and AROs are fewer and further inbetween. Only a small, failing neon sign (and the bored-looking ork security guard) gives away the fact that the low building at the end of the alley is the entrance to Leverage, one of the hottest clubs of the season.

Inside, the floor is an ocean of writhing bodies. The sun hasn't even set entirely, and already the place is packed. Club kids of all ages and metatypes are dancing as if part of one big organism, their sweat-proof body paint illuminated as if from within by the holograms and ultraviolet lights sweeping over the masses. Some, likely those equipped with cyberears, have overridden the loud bass of whatever the VJ is mixing up and are dancing to tunes of their own. In the alley, the deafening music is completely inaudible, held in by the thin wall that divides those with the money to buy real alcohol and those who can't afford to eat.

Maybe that's the reason this is your destination. Maybe you're tired of eating unflavored soy. Maybe you're simply bored. Who knows? Whatever your situation, you've recently received a message telling you to be here. It's from someone calling themself Opti, a name you recognize as that of a reputable fixer. Most of the message is Neo-Anarchist drivel, but you latch onto the most important part: there's work for you. Leverage. Tonight.

You're on the list.

Even from a distance the bass beat of the music was audible. Though it was nigh impossible to differentiate which beat went to which club. Ze Lei-Ne twirled her pink umbrella. It wasn't supposed to rain anymore, which was good, because it was of a fashion accessory than a real umbrella. Mainly since it wasn't made of water proof fabric and had lace making over half of it. Lei-Na tilted her head back for the brief moment and watched the echoes of the neon lights through her thin umbrella. A smile stretched her neon pink lips. Lei-Ne was color coordinated. Today her medium length white hair had pink and yellow added in different spots and layers. Her almond shaped eyes were ringed by brown and blue eye-shadow, contrasting against an artificially pale face to make her eyes pop. Her dress, if such a thing could be called that, was short, barely covering her bottom, tight, revealing and very pink. Only her worn jacket flung over her shoulders warded off the evening chill.

Lei-Ne couldn't watch the lights for long, having to turn her attention back to where she was going. For there were various things she had to look out for. Being five foot five, seven with her two inch combat boots on, and skinny seemed to mark her as an easy target. A knife in the face dissuaded all but the more addled drug addicts. But having fended them off her entire life, it never really bothered her. She was capable of self-defense, even of the deadly kind. However, Lei-Ne wasn't a stranger to these parts, having been down here often for both work and pleasure. Most people know to leave her alone.

Lei-Ne finally paused in front of a run down building. The neon sign that flickered in and out of life, gave away Leverage. She had gotten the message to be here this morning. Work. It never ended. Even though it kept her off the streets she had been born on. The slender Asian woman sashayed over to the doorman. She blinked her rhinestone decorated eyelashes and smiled.

"Hey." Lei-Na made sure her voice was low and sultry as she spoke. "Still room for me?" She winked. When the doorman returned her smile, after gazing elsewhere of course, Lei-Ne allowed herself to feel pride.

"There's always room for ladies." The doorman said, gaze flicking back down.

Lei-Ne let out a laugh, surprising the doorman a little. "I've never been a lady." She told him before she stepped forward then paused. "Do you have a message for me darling? Lei-Ne?"

The doorman blinked once, thinking, then checked his wireless (Probably). Then he nodded. "Yes, you'll need to go to the back, there'll be a door, go through it."

"Thanks." She had to stand on her toes, even in her tall shoes, to give the guy a kiss. Happily, Lei-Ne slipped past into the club, closing her umbrella as she went. She did look back over her shoulder to see him give her even more of an appraising look. Lei-Ne's smile got wider. Inside the club was a press of bodies. The music was deafening. The bass was so deep that it echoed in Lei-Ne's chest, like a second heart beating to the rhythm of the music. The Asian scanned everyone near her before moving forward into the press. Which meant she had to dance through the flow of the people.

Soon enough Lei-Ne exited the press of the people. She twirled her umbrella and landed it on her shoulder. She winked at a troll who was watching. Said troll lifted his glass and gave her a come hither look. Lei-Ne smiled and shook her head with an apologetic look. Sorry she mouthed. The troll shrugged and looked away. Lei-Ne went back to looking for the door. Her black eyes fluttered over the wall before she saw it. Ah-ha. There it was. She skipped over to the door and pulled it open.

Walking through the neon lit street Thomas's beige overcoat changed color continuously as he passed several clubs and bars. This wasn't really the area he would usually hang out, not without a good reason at least. But the reason was good. The reason he walked past these clubs and bars was money and money was as good as it gets. Thomas, who went by the handle Quicksilver because of his 'work' outfit, was no stranger to backroom deals and illegal activities. He had done this before and he probably would do this again, and again until time caught up with him. The place he had to go was called Leverage, a club that was doing well for some reason. Quicksilver would probably never find out why, not that he cared. He had been there once or twice before, also for jobs. He was pretty sure he killed a woman there once... Once the neon lights became less and less prominent Leverage came in sight, the noise gave it away as well though. Some Ork was posted as doorman, hopefully the greenskin was informed of Thomas’s little visit. He walked straight up to the Ork, “Quicksilver”. After the short conversation that ensued the street samurai got the information he needed.

Once he entered the club he immediately knew why he preferred bars to clubs, the noise was irritating. The samurai instantly regretted not getting his ears augmented, that would certainly help in this environment. The club was packed, mostly with youths. Thomas maneuvered his way to the bar with help of his muscle replacements, that certainly made the job easier. He was on his toes, he didn’t want to attract too much attention. Luckily, that wasn’t really a problem. Most people here were way too busy with themselves to even notice a couple of shadowrunners doing business here, although most of the people probably knew that it happened. Thomas made his way to the bar, ordered a beverage and lightly brushed his pistol as he paid the bartender. The muscle walked to the door that was designated by the Ork and followed a rather small girl in. Thomas nodded at the man he assumed to be Opti and took a seat.

The room behind the door was tastefully decorated. Whereas the club itself emphasized its warehouse origin, mixing polished steel and concrete with plastic and carbon fiber, this room was done in the style of a traditional back room of an old bar, complete with fake wood furnishing and heavy carpets.

Immediately drawing attention was the round table at the center of the room, illuminated warmly by a large LED lamp hanging from the ceiling. Four men and three women sat around this table, playing poker with physical cards—a rare sight these days. They were conversing in Spanish, laughing often and loudly while holographic representations of poker chips moved across the table with each bet. As each shadowrunner entered the room, one of the men, a human with a thick black mustache, nodded towards a row of chairs lined up against one wall. The gesture was amicable but firm: have a seat.

Thovren's van pulled into a secluded spot several alleys down from the bustling nightclub. He never liked to go in head first if he could help it. He unjacked himself from his vehicle and quickly moved to the back of his “mobile drone command centre” He pulled the control rig into his lap and jacked himself in. He subsribed one of his minidrones and hooked into it personally. The small metal dragonfly zoomed out of an open window and down the dark alleyway. Just as two pretty young girls were being admitted inside the drone flew in and hovered her the ceiling to remain out of sight.
Everything the drone could see was being displayed through his cybernetic eyes. Carefully going over every detail in the offensivly coloured room. If he had his biological eyes the flashing lights would have blinded him or at least caused great discomfort and pain. But he was able to push past that and he focused on taking the drone slowly around the room. Invesitagting shadowy corners and individuals. Looking for the fixer or the Mr. Jhonston.
He was about to give up and go in personally when a pretty young girl, probably his age wearing bright noticable clothes made her way through the crowd with purpose towards a wall. The drone hovered over her with interest as she opened a door he did not notice before. He nodded to himself in the van and the drone came wizzing back at full speed towards its home. When it landed Thovren disconnected himself from his machine and sighed. Unjacking himself and carefully placed the drone in a simple toolbox with its twin to keep them free of dust and jostling. He laid them in with loving care, very gentle like one would lay the body of a loved one in a coffin. Assuming he could afford a coffin. With that done he reached for his gas mask and securely attached it to his face. His predator was next. The comfortable and heavy pistol resting securely at his side. With one final pat on the top of his Doberman as if it was a real pet and not a four wheel gun drone. He stepped out of his van and placed his maglock on the doors.
The walk through the dark alleys was like any in the seedier parts of seattle. Going to a job he was reasonably certain he would not be jumped or mugged. His employers would want this place clean and their assests intact before the job starts. He made no effort to push past the ork, he simply gave the name “Thovren” and waved off the attempted information he already new about the door. The throng of people was more challenging without agumented muscles. Or the willingess to dance. He hated this place. The noise was powerful, the lights were to bright and even though they were not sunlight they were making his hands itch. He took a less direct but easier route along the walls, where the throng of people was at its thinnest. Some people starred at his obvious cybernetic forearm. Synthskin was to espensive. And in his opinion rather unecessary. He found the door. When he stepped through the sight that met him was, unexpected. It was far better furnished than most rooms where these deals took place. It was a welcome change. He noticed a handful of others, quite unlike the foreigners playing poker who were sitting against the wall. He lifted his cybernetic arm and scratched the chin hidden under his mask before taking his own seat.
He didn't like being away from his workshop and his drones. He felt more comfortable around technology than people. Maybe that was why he took tot he new forearm so well? Who knows. It was as good an answer as any. The lithe elf sat lightly in the chair and surveyed as much about to room as he was able. “So...” he began without looking at anyone in particular. “I suppose your all here for job.” this wouldn't be the first time he was thrown together with a team.

Roman walked casually up the somewhat familliar alleyway towards the hidden-but-not-so-hidden club Leverage. Dressed in his casual white buttondown collard long sleeve shirt and black dress slacks and shoes, nothing on his person gave off any kind of threatening vibe aside the century old revolver strapped to his hip. He gave no mind to it being out in the open nor did he walk like it was even relevant. Giving a half assed smirk and raising a closed but relaxed fist up towards the bored yet observant Orc. "Hey Frank, hows the kid?" Roman casually said to the Orc. "Howyadoin... Meat, she just got her first tooth last week... been chewing up the furniture ever since." Frank grunted as he reached out with an opposing fist to meet his. Roman brought his hands back down to his pockets and pushed through the door using his shoulder. "Nice talking Frank, im assuming someone is waiting for me inside." He spoke over the loudening music as the door opened wider. The Orc tried to say something as Roman entered but the music quickly drowned him out.

Roman enjoyed the loud trance inducing dubstep-esque music that this club played but was not one to dance himself. He wasnt here for fun nor pleasure. Making a B-line through the crowd towards the bar where a cute looking Elven chick had been servicing some customers with some weird glowing cocktails and wiping down the mess a couple drunkin idiots had previously made. "Excuse me." Roman shouted, attempting to get the womans attention. She was obviously too preoccupied and the loud music didnt help. Instead he gestured quickly in her direction and by sheer luck caught him in the corner of her eye. "Can i help you cutie?" The elf asked in a flirty yet obviously professional way. "Yea, i got this message from some guy-" "Back room sweetie, they are waiting for you." She cut him off in a slightly irritated manner. "Umm, yea thanks." He trailed off as she pointed towards the back where a corner of a door could somewhat be seen.

Roman made his way through the waning crowd towards where the elf gestured to find a door barely noticable unless you were really looking for it. When he went through he felt like he went back in time. The atmosphere was much more pleasing to him and he seemed much more comfortable as he watched a handfull of older men playing with an actual deck of cards. The men looked slightly irritated since apparently their game kept getting interrupted by strangers. One of the men gestured to have a seat next to the rest of the group of misfits in the corner. "Well, guess im a little late arent i?" He said sarcastically while taking a seat next to the woman with the mass amount of glittery items on her face and hair. "If you didnt notice, the man with the mustache is buffing." He joked towards her, still keeping his attention on the card game rather than his extremely intimidating neighbors.

The general ambiance of the room Thomas was seated now was at lot more to his taste than the rest of the club. The walls, the floor and even the furniture really had a better vibe to them than he had expected. Another pleasant change was that the music wasn't as loud here as it was in the main hall. Thomas closed his eyes, tilted his head back and slowly exhaled. The card players didn't pay attention to him or the girl that seated a chair away from him. Thomas knew English, and some French because of a couple of previous jobs for some Frenchmen, but he couldn't make out whether this was Spanish or Portuguese. "Me gusta poker," he tried as he didn't know what else to do beside waiting. It always pained him that before the real job started he was always made to wait. Comes with the job, he thought. One of the women looked up form her hand and smiled at him, "Muy bien, amigo." So it was Spanish, maybe he could try some Spanglish. Although it probably wasn't a good idea to see how far he could go before one of the players told him to go fuck himself... Although he loved learning to swear in different languages. It probably was a good thing the music got louder again, announcing that somebody opened the door.

Quite the sight walked in... Face covered in a mask and pointy ears, an Elf. The male-Elf seemed just a bit out of his comfort zone, just where Quicksilver liked people he met the first time. The Elf took the room in before he took a seat and asked if Thomas and the girl were here for a job. Thomas always loved it when the cannon fodder was completely oblivious about what was going on. The muscle was weighing his options, sighing or a snide comment... He decided against a too aggressive comment, he was working with pointy ears after all. "Assuming you read the message, did what it said. Yeah, I think you can safely assume you're in the right place." He worked with the type before, the Elf seemed nice enough, but this wasn't that hard to figure out. It was like pointy ears wasn't to sure about himself. As the music became louder again another body walked in. You lost kid? Party's over there, the samurai thought mentally pointing to the door. As the door closed the music quieted done some and the seven card players continued focusing on the most important part of their evening, trying to win. "If you didn't notice, the man with the mustache is buffing." He joked towards the girl. He had to hand it to the kid, he wasn't in the room for over a minute and he already tried hitting on his colleague. "Way to go kid," Thomas said grinning, "Way to go."

Thorin stood in the shadows just a little way down the road from the club, the sounds of its terrible music already drifting into his ears. He took a final drag on his cigarette before dropping it and crushing it into the ground with his boot, exhaling into the cool evening air. He had been stood watching and waiting for a little while now, seeing several people enter the club over the last few minutes. He suspected now that he wasn’t the only one contacted for such a job, at least judging by some of the characters going in – and he was pretty sure he’d even seen a small drone at one point.

Grunting slightly he moved forwards and directed his attention towards the doorman, an appropriately ‘tough’ looking ork who has gestured the others inside. As Thorin passed him he opened his jacket slightly, enough so that his Ruger was visible, just so he knew why he was here and that he wasn’t particularly in the mood for a conversation. Entering the club the visual and audio bombardment was sufficient to make him feel nauseous from the first moment, the loud music reverberating inside of his skull. He spared a few moments to glance around at the mass of writhing bodies but didn’t see anything that he wouldn’t have expected, and quickly started to move towards the back of the club. He hated venues like this with a passion, but had throughout his questionable career had to spend far more time than he would have liked in places like this. He quickly spotted what he was looking for, an inconspicuous door along the back wall – generally to a VIP area of some kind, and considering it was the only one he could see he figured that was the place to go.

It was easy enough for him to make his way through the centre of the drunken cluster, his muscle augmentation and relative height to most of the people in his way guaranteed that they didn’t stay in his way long. He ignored the few cries and insults thrown by those who even noticed him pushing past. He reached the door and pulled it open before walking through into what looked like a half decent poker den – even complete with real cards. Taking an immediate interest in the game it took Thorin a few moments to notice the fuzzy human gesturing towards a row of chairs to the side lined up against the wall, and the others sat waiting there. He clocked each of them quickly, deciding that introductions could be given later, he wanted to hear this job first, and then he could go from there.

'And a good fucking day to you too buddy.' the elf bit back his mental retort. there was no need to antagonize the situation further, but this man needed to learn that there was something to be said about not pissing people off professional criminals who would be holding guns to your back on a high stakes dangerous job where death was expected. and who would only receive a larger paycheck if you did indeed die. "Well I was trying to make casual conversation in the hopes of introduction. Something I figured was appropriate and polite in this situation." He said calmly and smoothly, but smirked under his mask.This man seemed to have formed an opinion of him, gods knows on what information he based this opinion on, he knew he was awkward in overly bright rooms because of his condition. It was hard to remain still when the light burned your skin.
He found it interesting the man would get so riled after a single question. Maybe he could have fun needling him in the future with similar questions? He worked with this sort before. He thought himself the greatest thing to combat since the generals of old. Could single handedly cut through an army of lone star security and somehow miraculously not get touched by a single bullet from trained and tried professionals. Most people like this he met on jobs died doing just that, or attempting something similar.
Before another man walked in, some young human who typical of his kind was trying to flirt with the first thing he saw that had breasts. And then a troll of all things was soon to follow. The troll sat silently and the elf could respect not desiring conversation by not speaking as opposed to the human's actions. So he said nothing to the troll and leaned back into the chair.

Lei-Ne didn't fail to notice the man behind her as she entered the room. It was nice, much nicer than the club was. In fact, it was so nice that it practically deadened the loud music just through the wall. Suitably impressed Lei-Ne took a seat when gestured. The faux-wood chair creaked a little as she sat down. It wasn't because of the weight, merely because if was designed that way. Like nostalgia. Lei-Ne wondered for a brief moment, who had designed such a room and if they could do her apartment. It wasn't bad looking, her apartment that was, but it was chrome and chrome and more chrome. The only spots that had life were spots of disreputable claim.

The obvious street samurai who followed her in didn't say a word. The elf who followed him in, was a different matter all together. Not only because of the gas mask, which wasn't all that unusual but was in this setting, but because he asked if this was the right place. The elf perched on the edge of the chair he had chosen and didn't make eye contract with anyone. Lei-Ne fluffed her hair a little and sat forward to respond when the door opened yet again. She was beginning to sympathize with the card playing man who rolled his eyes. Yeah, Lei-Ne thought. I feel ya.

The newest newcomer was dressed like he was going to a job interview at a company. Rather than a back alley meet. And arrogant to boot. He took one look around the room and sat next to her. Of course. The samurai who had followed her in responded to the elf instead of her. And not nicely. She should have just said something instead of letting herself get distracted. It always paid to know who was around you. And who really cared if no one got along? Lei-Ne sure didn't. After all, she was a profession, which was more than she could say about most of the people here.

Lei-Ne forced a smile on her face at the pathetic attempt by the human to impress her. Bluffing was all part of poker. Duh. So his comment didn't endear him to her. The samurai's reply endeared him even less to the Asian. When another man walked in Lei-Ne was ready to move seats. If she wanted someone staring at her assets she'd go back on the dance floor. Finally in came a troll. He just pulled up a seat and didn't talk. Which was nice. Lei-Ne was never in a talking mood when she got summoned. Seven years now she had been doing this. And it never got any better.

When Red Five woke up to a message detailing a meet, she did three things in quick succession: First, she checked it for any unexpected surprises. Then she tried tracing it back to its origin to see if it had actually come from this Opti, and finally, while processing and eating the last piece of soy product in her tiny Redmond apartment, configuring an agent to discreetly check for any obvous exploits in Leverage's security system. The first two had given her little to none to go on; the message was squeaky clean, and it had been bounced through so many different devices that it was hopeless to find out if Opti was actually Opti. The care with which its way through the mesh network had been obscured spoke to the fact that whoever sent this message knew what they were doing. For some reason, Red found this reassuring. All the same, she'd make sure not to show up unarmed.

And now, as she was making her way down the specified alley, short heels breaking the smooth surfaces of the puddles below her, her agent happily chirped its conclusion: the club had an off-the-shelf security system, no in-house admin. No gaping security holes, but she'd probably be able to maintain a security account for the duration of the meet. She began slinging commands at the system, making sure not to skip any steps that would alert the system to a threat.

It took Red Five a second to realize that this was the entrance to Leverage, but the booming Matrix activity going on behind the unassuming concrete walls suggested that this was the place. She waved at the doorman. "Evenin', omae." He grunted, eyes wary. "I'm on the list. Red Five?" The ork's face went momentarily blank as he checked the AR guest list, then he nodded and opened the door while informing her of the location of the backroom. Red smiled at him and mentally waved a hundred nuyen from her commlink to his. Always tip the bouncer.

Tapping into the feeds from the club's security cameras, Red made her way through the undulating crowd. The bird's eye view of the club allowed her to avoid the densest clusters of people. Thus, she was at the small door in a relatively short amount of time. Quietly, she slipped open the door to the backroom poker game, noticing the last available chair. Of course this wasn't a solo job. She should have known.

"Last to the party, eh?" she muttered under her breath and took a seat. No cameras in here as far as she could tell. She had to make do with checking out the others form the corner of her eye.

◳

As the last shadowrunner took her place, the man with the mustache quietly cleared his throat. In the blink of an eye everyone else at the table was on their feet, taking with them the playing cards. They left the room without a word, disappearing into the dancing masses.

The man himself got up and spoke to the runners in careful English with a Spanish accent that to anyone with a particularly good ear for language seemed to have been rehearsed: "Please, everyone join me. Have a seat. You may call me Mr. Johnson. Can I get you a drink?"

The six shadowrunners sat at the round table, a drink of their choice (or, for the careful shadowrunner, no drink at all) in front of them. The Johnson, clad in a tasteful black shirt, sat back down at the table, placed a small, smooth disk in the center of the table. He tapped it once, and white noise filled the room.

"There," he said, "now we may talk."



"The six of you are here because in one way or another, your work in the shadows has gotten you noticed. In a good way, I should add," Mr. Johnson said, in turn addressing each shadowrunner:

"Thovren, rigger extraordinaire. People with more technical prowess than I have assured me that your custom drivers are excellent.

"Doom, or Doomstrider, am I correct? People with your aptitude for violence rarely live long. Whatever you are doing to stay alive, you are doing it very well.

"Red Five, or h4k/—yes, sorry, I am afraid we made the connection between your aliases a while ago—hacker. I have been informed that you are particularly skilled in hacking in the heat of the moment.

"Old Soul. Your work seems to differ quite a lot from that of your Awakened colleagues. I will be honest, what I have heard of your magic quite frankly gives me goosepimples, and I mean that as a very sincere compliment.

"Quicksilver, I have been told that it was you who killed the street samurai called Vortex. As sad as I am to see a hired sword of his caliber go, I am impressed, indeed, very impressed.

"And finally, Ze Lei-Ne. Perhaps the finest Face in the city at the moment. Certainly you are the most beautiful. Your resumé is most impressive. I should like to see you work one day.

"Now, if my information is correct, you have all been contacted by a fixer by the name of Opti. I do not know how much he has told you, but I trust he has informed you that I have a job for you. It should be quite the opportunity. First, tell me, how much do you know of each other? And more importantly: what do you know of a corporation called Koch-Huang Industries?"

The girl didn't like attention, that was a fact. The forced smile gave away more than she probably would have wanted to. Better luck next time, kid. The Asian was good looking, a bit too much bling for Thomas's taste. Thomas, who had already seen her from the back, wanted to check if the front was any good. Just as he was about to shift his pose the music got louder again and he instead shifted his weight to the other side. Hah!, he thought, so he wasn't the only muscle in here. The troll that walked in was quiet and instantly obsessed with the card game. After a while he decided to take a seat and that was the end of it. The troll smelled of tabacco and let his gaze slide over the small crowd that had gathered in the backroom now. A while after the troll had taken his seat there was another in and than decrease in volume and a girl with a minimal hair and blue make-up walked in. Now that was a looker, Thom couldn't help but grin a bit, which was quickly interrupted by the sound of people leaving the room. To business then!

Moustache invited the band over to the table. If they wanted something to drink, although Thomas wasn't completely against the idea of having another drink he decided not to. He had had a couple more of these meetings and, depending on what it was the group had to find, steal, frame, kill or whatever, meetings like this could take a while. "I'll have a coffee, thanks.", he said with no apparent expression. After everybody had their drinks mister Johnson gave them short introduction. The troll and he were the muscle behind the operation. The kid was awakened, which partly explained the business casual attire, but not the playboy attitude. Cannon fodder apparently was an experienced rigger and the girl who had entered lastly was also into technology. Johnson concluded by introducing the Asian girl as their face. With introductions out of the way the real fun started, the briefing.

"I heard some rumors about a masked Elf rigger, I'm guessing you know the most about Koch-Huang because of their drones," Thomas started reaching for his pack of smokes, "Anybody mind?" and without waiting for a reaction he lit one. Sliding the pack and the lighter over to the Troll the samurai continued, "I think you used to do some enforcer work, same as me. And," Shifting his gaze again this time to the hacker, "I'm pretty sure you shot me down in bar at least once or twice before."

After the obvious shutout by the glitter filled asian woman, Roman just sat back and shut his mouth. Giving off a sigh as judging by the looks on the others faces, his innocent attempt at small talk obviously mistaken as a pickup line. Two others arrived after him and he felt slightly better for arriving a little late. A Troll and a bald woman. "Eh... unique." He muttered under his breath, not really caring either way. Afterwards he decided to just sit back and relax until someone got down to brass tacks.

It was shortly after that the mustached man gestured for his poker posse to dissapear signaling to Roman that the gang was all here. The posse left the same way he came in and Mr. Mustache addressed them all to the table. After the brief introduction from Mr. Mustache, Roman gave himself a facepalm in annoyance. He did not want the others to know of his awakened state just yet but guess the cats out of the bag. When he was asked if he wanted a drink, Roman quickly cleared his throat. "Ah thank you, just water please... 21 ounces if possible..." He replied with a businessmans smile. "In a glass if its no trouble." He quickly added. Roman wasn't really thirsty but he needed a silent weapon if things got a little "heated".

Roman sat and listened to the man as he spoke about some company called Kroch-hang industries or something like that. Unfortunately he was not very informed about current companies even though he worked for a quite reknown one. Most of his time was in Aztechnologies labs and if his nose wasn't buried in some type of ancient cartography or half worn tome, it was buried in some old fashioned book. He had aquired quite the collection in his time there, but like his old life... all that was gone now. "Thank you for the... er... compliment, but I was curious to know if they have any connection with Aztechnologies? As you have probabbly already read in those rumors you speak of, I have more interest in information about them than in credsticks..."

Thovren did not take a drink. Never drank before or during a job, He also didn't want to have to remove his mask and reveal his face to the assembled people or expose it to the light. That and street/ common grade alcohol was notoriously rough unless you were willing to pay very well. A hang-over to his frailer constitution could be crippling. To the business at hand he eyed each of the people around the table as they were introduced rather dramatically by their host. He tried to take each name to memory, realizing like himself they probably did not give their real names.
"I know of Koch-Huang industries. They make good robotics and drone chassis designs. Expensive ones. Their designs are supposed to be fairly complex to figure out and look at. Most people couldn't tell if they were looking at a digital toaster or an explosive." he admitted with a shrug. He would be able to tell the difference quite easily. But then again he knew what he was supposed to be looking at. But from what he heard the designs were worth the price. Far to expensive for his blood. Even the street models and parts that were slightly used fetched a decent price.
He raised an eyebrow at the mages words. More interested in a megacorp than credsticks? Could he not buy information about this corperation with the credsticks? If he was willing to give up his share to the rest of the group in exchange for a few words than he was more than welcome. And it was safe to say nearly every megacorp in the world had under the table dealings with every other megacorp at least once.
He shook the thought from his mind for now. He longed to be back amongst his machines, tinkering away in his dimly (or reasonably lit, as he puts it) workshop. But 'needs must' as they say. “I can only assume you are mentioning Koch-Huang because either they are helping us in some way. Or shooting at us by the end of the week.”

Throin continued to watch the game from the corner of his vision, though he only had to wait a few moments. As the last individual entered shortly after him there was a small flurry of activity as the card players stood and left tougher, obviously the game was just a small distraction for this man before the real business started. Thorin grinned to himself at the idea of interrupting their game for the meeting, knowing that something like that would have driven him crazy if he was one of the players. As he moved over and sat at the central table he nodded at the offer of a drink, not caring particularly what was brought. As the others requested their various beverages, coffee, water and nothing, Thorin almost snorted, but resisted the urge to before he grunted “Whisky.”

Thorin listened as the man spoke, and as he went around the table and summarised each of them he had to admit it looked like he’d done his homework on them and had selected them specifically to work this job for him based on their merits. It wasn’t the strangest thing in this world, and so Thorin didn’t feel so worried, plus his own ‘summary’ had given him some pleasure and a sinister grin had spread across his face for a few moments, his sharp teeth gleaming in the light of the backroom. The others seemed to be varied in their skills and abilities from what Johnson said, and together he was sure that they’d be able to handle any mission as long as no-one messed things up.

Before the job was explained Mr Johnson asked “First, tell me, how much do you know of each other? And more importantly: what do you know of a corporation called Koch-Huang Industries?"

Thinking for a few moments Thorin realised he hadn’t heard of any of the others. He’d not heard of the corp either – so he guessed it probably wouldn’t be selling weapons or booze or anything interesting like that. He listened as the street samurai Quicksilver was the first who spoke, pointing the question in the direction of the rigger, Thovren, was it? As he slid his cigarettes across the table and spoke of enforcer work Thorin nodded once to show that he was correct before he took one of the smokes and lit it up, adding to the rapidly accumulating cloud in the room before he slid the packet back, making a mental note that the street sam was now his favourite.

The awakened one, Old Soul he had been called spoke up next, asking about some other corporation – Aztechnologies. Again Thorin hadn’t heard of it at all, but that didn’t surprise him. So many different corporations with so many different names that he couldn’t care less about.

The Fixer spoke up "I know of Koch-Huang industries. They make good robotics and drone chassis designs. Expensive ones. Their designs are supposed to be fairly complex to figure out and look at. Most people couldn't tell if they were looking at a digital toaster or an explosive. I can only assume you are mentioning Koch-Huang because either they are helping us in some way. Or shooting at us by the end of the week.”

Thorin grunted in amusement, at least this elf was to the point and right about one thing. Personally Thorin was sure it would be the latter, always seemed to be. Especially if this corp was responsible for high end drones and other bits, then it seemed plausible that they’d be stealing or sabotaging something, that was unless Kock-Huang were the ones looking for some dirty work to be done.

Clearing his throat and removing his sunglasses Thorin took another drag on his smoke before he chimed in “Koch-Huang don’t ring any bells with me. To be honest I’m not one for names or faces…” As he finished speaking he took a swig from the glass that had been placed before him. The alcohol was surprisingly good quality, though it burnt his throat and eyes somewhat and he almost coughed. The sensation was actually quite pleasurable, and so he took another swig as he waited for someone else to speak, satisfied that his short summarising statement would be adequate for Mr Johnson and the others.

Lei-Ne was thrilled that the meet was finally starting. Or rather she was thrilled at the prospect it was going to end now that it had begun. She smiled happily as she too her place at the table. She smiled even more happily at the praise. She just inclined her head and accepted it. Even if she didn't believe it much. Her company kept her on a short leash and she doubted they were blabbing about what she had done for them over the years. Just as well, it wasn't like she wanted to do this the rest of her life. No, that would be partying, gambling and having fun. But such things came with a price tag. Maybe she should go into sales?

Back to the matter at hand, the Asian mentally shoved her train of through back on track. She merely spread her hands in a gesture that plainly said, I think everyone else answered that question for you. Lei-Ne didn't really pay much attention to non-rival corps of her employers. She did however know basically what everyone else was doing, she just did do a full back ground check as it were. This was one company she hadn't bothered with. And she was going to get an earful if she let anyone know that.... if they didn't already. Oh boy. Wasn't life fun?

"I've seen Old-Soul around before." She looked over at the magic man who had botched flirting with her. Bad looking? Hell no. A bit younger than she usually liked them though. "Or should I say, sniffing around." Lei-Ne crossed her legs under the table. Her gaze lingered on the human a little bit longer then turned back to the fixer. "That's all." She smiled and tucked a little bit of hair back into place.

Mr. Johnson smiled at the young mage, a gesture that only partially reached his eyes.

"I am sure you understand that I am neither able to confirm or deny any involvement with Aztechnology. For future reference, I would suggest that you practise slightly more discretion when asking questions like these. For all you know, it may be Aztechnology offering you this very job." His face regained some of its warmth.

"Anyway. I am glad to hear you are not complete strangers to the work of one another. I think that will work greatly in your favor." He fixed his eyes on Thovren. "Indeed, Koch-Huang largely specializes in drones. As you mention, these drones are often expensive and complex in design, which I believe most would argue is a major reason why Koch-Huang has yet to achieve a status beyond single-A. This also explains why few have heard of them. They are still up and coming, but no less important for that."

The man manipulated AR windows only visible to him, and the holographic projector that had previously placed virtual poker chips on the table began to whirr again. This time a trideo sequence manifested on the surface, of a four-legged drone smoothly dodging projectiles from several different locations and returning fire. The trid was slightly warped, clearly having been digitally converted into a three-dimensional hologram from single-POV footage.

"This is an early prototype of a Koch-Huang combat drone, codenamed Big Dog. I should not have to tell you that this footage was not obtained using strictly legal means. My employers, and, should you choose to accept this job offer, yours, are very interested in this drone." He nodded at the rigger sitting in front of him. "I am sure you understand why. To the rest of you, suffice to say that this might be the finest piece of work that has ever come from Koch-Huang. My employers would very much like the specifications for this particular drone, and, as I am sure you have figured out, the job of acquiring the blueprints will go to the six of you." Mr. Johnson got up and began to circle the table.

"Now, to ensure that the designs remain only in the hands of my employers, there are three parts to this mission:

"First of all, the blueprints will have to be secured and deleted from Koch-Huang servers. Should you choose to accept the job, this will be your main objective. It is not clear exactly where in the Koch-Huang building these files will be, but I would wager that they are not accessible from the outside. Of course, any backups will have to be deleted as well.

"Secondly: the man who designed Big Dog." The Johnson once again pressed an invisible AR button, and the holographic image changed to that of a dark-skinned human, perhaps in his late thirties. "This is Devon McIntosh, 37. He singlehandedly designed the combat drone, and it seems that only he would be able to recreate the blueprints, should they be stolen. My employers have already reached out to him in an attempt to persuade him to place his loyalties elsewhere. McIntosh declined, and unfortunately, this means that Koch-Huang are now aware of the interest in Mr. McIntosh and his work. McIntosh has been confined to living quarters within the K-H complex, and is likely to be under heavy surveillance, if not armed protection. If you are able to convince McIntosh to reconsider the offer given to him and successfully extract him, there would be a sizable reward in it for you. If he does not budge, he will have to be disposed of.

"Finally, there is the matter of the drone prototype itself." The holographic image changed again to a close-up of the drone. "As you may be aware, it is not uncommon for a corporation to destroy the prototype of a work-in-progress to ensure that it is not stolen and reverse-engineered. However, if this is not the case, the Big Dog prototype obviously poses an opportunity for Koch-Huang themselves to recreate most of the designs from the drone. Your mission includes ascertaining whether the prototype has been destroyed. If it has not, you will have to either bring the drone with you or destroy it yourselves."

Mr. Johnson stopped his pacing. "I am aware that this is not a so-called milk run, and your reward for a successful run—preferably completed within a month—will reflect this fact. I am authorized to offer what amounts to six thousand nuyen for each of you upon completion, as well as a total of ten thousand nuyen in advance for any purchases you may require for the job.

"Now, before you accept or decline this offer—in the latter case, I trust you will all agree with me that this meeting has never taken place—I am sure you will have questions. Of course, there are questions that I am not at liberty to answer, but I shall do the best I can within my limitations. Fire away."

Roman was slightly aggitated at Mr. Johnsons comment about working for his old company. If that was true it would be making his personal vendetta harder in the long run, but he had no choice but to accept this job as it was the only one available to him at this time. His feelings got the better of him and made a amateurs mistake, even if he was still slightly new to all this. Picking up the glass of water that was served to him sometime between lectures, he began to trace a circle around the lip with his fingers.

"Right, I'm in... but this ain't going to be easy." Roman said with an emphasis on the obvious. After tracing a circle around the glass the water began to reform and solidify. He began making slight modifications with his fingertip until the water formed into a 1:8 scale version of the hologram dog prototype creating an image that attempted to be clearer than the dodgy hologram. "The... inventor, he won't listen to reason from professionals who persuade for a living..." Roman said as he let the tiny ice sculpture walk along the table dodging imaginary gunfire mimicing what it sees on the screen. "Its too tiny to hold a huma-err person inside so it must be either some kind of Ai or a man with a remote somewhere... perhaps we can lure the inventor out with the prototype itself?" Roman gestured his finger and the small ice sculpture performed household tricks like sit, lay, roll over and shake paw showing how obedient it was.

"Id rather not have to DISPOSE of someone with such a great mind and imagination." He said with sarcastic emphasis on dispose. He hated that word, it completey desensatized the act of murder. The ice dog walked forward towards the rigger and handed it his paw. "Of course we can't do any of this without getting in first... but I'm sure our hacker and rigger can think of something." Roman said with a smile. Attempting to raise confidence and morale. He wanted to make up for the obvious misconception on flirting with Ms. Face over there, but he couldn't help but wonder what she meant about seeing him before. Wondering if she was at one of his previous jobs and his simply didn't notice.

Thovren Whistled softly in appreciation at what he saw. Most land drones were crawlers because they were more stable and able to move at faster speeds. That and walker drones were notoriously hard to keep balanced when damaged or forced to run, or just have to move with any fluididty and speed. But what he saw on the hologram was a very good start. It was a stiff but it moved very well had had a lot of agility for a drone, a walker no less. It had potential. What he would give for a day alone with that machine, taking it apart and putting it back together again. Do that once and he was confident he could build himself a workable knockoff.
"Drones are only ever remote controlled, and they all come with at least rudimentary AI. You will never find a physically piloted combat drone." he said bluntly and emphasized the word 'never'. He wasn't intending to be rude, but he was to focused to try and form his sentances into delicate works of art either. He was certain he was the only one in the room with a hope of understanding how this bloody thing worked. So he might as well start them off with the basics. He was too busy studying the image to care about anyone else in the room but words were reaching his ears, even if he was only half paying attention. "that defeats the very purpose of a drone. It is designed to carry out simple instructions independently of manual control." He focused on the hologram instead f the ice sculpture, his gaze was intently fixed on the beautiful image. "Even when someone takes, more or less direct control of a drone they do so through programming." He knew this piece would have state of the art AI, or at least that's what the company was probably planning to insert into the drone. It would be able to respond and obey to its subscriber with reasonably intermediatly complex orders. It probably had reasonable self preservation programming and attack protocols. It certainly outstripped anything he currently had in his van. Or anything he currently had the spare parts to make. Hell it outstripped most of what he knew was on the market. Not everything, but many combat drone models.
"It probably has the best security firewalls and codes the corperation can afford. It will most likely try to attack, and it will be strong, not to mention whatever weapons they decide to attach to it between now and then." he sighed and leaned back into the chair, still starring hard at the hologram. "Overriding the subscription will be tough. I'll need to be right next to it to take control." It would be a brutally hard subscription to override, but he was more than willing to try.

Lei-Ne fidgeted slightly in her seat, resisting the urge to go cross-eyed. The mission wasn't a milk run for the other maybe, but for her, her role was still the same. Get the blue prints first. From inside the building. She could charm her way in, but she couldn't tell a mac from a pc. No way she could erase anything from a hard drive. So that meant someone else had to get in. She could help with that. Easy-peasy. Second, the maker of the the tech. She could probably talk him out of the building. But she couldn't be thrilled to go in when there would be armed guards everywhere and she sure as hell didn't trust any of these people to watch her back. That was her own job. The third object was what was making her go cross-eyed. Techno-babble always went over her head. Luckily everyone else seemed to be getting it. Hooray for being technologically in-adept.

Lei-Ne blinked when they were told they could refuse. She nearly laughed, but swallowed it. She covered it gracefully by disguising the movement by leaning forward to 'study' the hologram for a momemnt. Then she spoke once she was sure her voice was normal. "I'm in of course." She leaned back in the chair and watched everyone else. Too bad she wouldn't see most of that money. It was a real shame, but her employers didn't trust her with a dime. Of course with her ability to make money disappear quicker than Novacoke into a drug addict's bloodstream, she wasn't surprised. And it eliminated chances of her running. Not that she'd get far. So she watched and listened, even though she didn't understand most of the technological parts.