The plane has barely landed on the Tarmac of S.F.I.A. And you can feel the hot wet air coming off of the ocean already. While the rest of the passengers frantically gather their carry on and fight with their neighbours as they jockey for position exiting the plane you seem to be miles north in the deep cold of the Athabaskan Council lands...
Huddled in the frozen seats of a Tata Hotspur half buried in heavy falling snow waiting for the patrol craft to move on while you watch nervously through the dense pines. Somewhere, out of sight are your teams spotters. Two keen eyed locals using snow mobiles to range ahead and scout out a safe route. The comm comes to life, Scout 2 here. Eye in the sky looks to be finishing up... Yup there he goes, heading east so he won't be bothering us anymore." underneath you can almost feel the weight of the patrols eyes lifting from your shoulders but everyone waits another minute or two before bursting out of their hiding places in shower of white snow and roaring across the tundra.
You haven't even made it a quarter of the way this trip and you've already had to stop three times to hide from patrols. Something seems to have riled up the council, maybe someone tipped them off?
....
Much later
....
The patrol had come out of nowhere, it happened so fast. One minute you're all racing down the last few miles to the border, not a thing in the sky, the next thing you know, someone's firing at you. A couple rounds manage to connect and pierce the tires as the truck spins out and tumbles a few times before coming to a halt on its side. Excited chatter is all over the comm as both scouts turn tale and bolt for freedom. The patrol craft veers off and chases down one of the scouts, blasting it to pieces.
You're still not sure how you managed to get the package, all of the fur, across the border where Mr. Johnston is waiting but here you are laughing and counting your creeds from a job well done. Greybeard, an old dwarven runner who's been running with you off and on for a while shakes hands and pats backs as he explains this was his last run. He's going somewhere warm to dry out his bones and invites you to look him up of you ever happen to be in San Francisco.
Shaking you head as the memories fade and then realizing that everyone else has already left the plane you get up step out into the bright unforgiving sun. Things were getting pretty bad in Seattle, maybe a change of venue is just what you need to turn your luck around.
"God, i detest the sun." The Black Sheep thinks to himself.
He strolls away from the airport terminal, straight backed and his head held high. He missed the days when there would be a man in a limosine waiting for him. He enjoyed the large double sized limosines, the ones where he could lie back and put his feet up. He missed the driver would have to look at him with respect or face the consequences.
"God i detest public transportation." The Black Sheep thinks to himself as he walks down the edge of the terminal in search of a taxi. Americans had a strange sense of transportation. Everybody needed a car, no matter what.
Adrian stretches slowly as he exits the plane, basking for a moment in the glaring sunlight before quickly proceeding down the wheeled staircase. Removing a pair of sunglasses from inside his jacket, he quickly places them in front of his eyes and makes a quick survey of his surroundings.
At least the weather'll be nicer. He thought as a melancholic grin stretched itself across his face. Quickly noticing the company's troll wandering off in search of a taxi, Goldylocks quickly moves to follow. "You look more miserable than me," He says, again reaching inside his suit jacket, this time producing a metal flask that he takes a quick swig from. "Cheer up a bit, we're here to collect a boatload of money from a dear old departed friend. At least try and look grateful."
Feeling the plane come to a stop, Bug closes his eye for a moment and thinks back only a couple of hours ago, the way too quick departure from Seattle....what a snafu that was...won't be headed back there for sometime.
With rueful chuckle, Bug grabs his carry on bag and joins the queue to leave the plane, seeing a couple of his fellow 'runners here and there in the crowd.
While waiting for his baggage, Bug resists the urge to "examine" the contents of the other passengers' pockets.
Having collected his belongings, he sidles up beside Goldylocks just as he finished his comment to Black Sheep.
"That's right Blackie, we've got some nuyen to earn. Hopefully, Greybeard's got a good one for us, instead of that clusterf#@# up north." Bug smiles.
The Black Sheep shoves his hands behind his back and clasps them hard, his heel tapping behind him as he turns his massive hulk around to speak back.
"I cannot say i am a fan of your optimism. Am I mad or do you really believe this man will truly pay up? In my experience no man gives up money without a good reason to do so."
His nostrils flair as a small bit of anger sparks in his eyes.
And by the way, yes, it is ironic that you mention Seattle if you truly believe things here will go much more smoothly."
He turns around and looks back at the road. Besides, before that happens we still need transportation.
"Oh, I fully expect a few hurdles will have to be jumped before we see even a penny of that motherload. We'd be fools to come here expecting to waltz on in and have someone just hand us that kind of money without any kind of a catch. It's never free, it's never easy, but it's always there, one way or another." Adrian states, staring at the behemoth towering next to him. "And even if its not, we've got a clean slate here. Can't be any worse here than Seatle, not yet at least.
Throughout the plane ride, Jackrabbit seems, to the other occupants sitting around her, almost absurdly relaxed in spite of some rather upsetting turbulence during takeoff. She hums a tuneless tune and taps away her hand on the handrest, eyes closed, much to the annoyance of the persons sitting next to her.
She sidles into the aisle as the plane slows its descent to its final stop and crawls lethargically off the plane, making her way at her own place to where her team stands. She comes to their position in time only to hear the last minute of conversation.
"Oh come off it you guys. What, would old greybeard leave us a large helping of his estate just so we'll have to jump through hoops. This is great! A new city, a new start."
"We just gotta take it easy and go with it."
With that, Jackrabbit walks out a bit and starts making some calls on her link, making the necessary arrangements to have her vehicles transferred across the border and into San Francisco.
Making your way through the hustle and bustle of San Francisco's largest airport is an exercise in patience as corridor after corridor of tourists, businessmen and staff block, hassle and jostle you back and forth while you wait for seemingly endless hours to get through security.
Here it's no different than any other city, as you look your trained eyes can easily spot which scanners are working properly and which ones 'work' when you don't want them to. Combined with a couple of names and tips offered up by friends. The only real delay, which sets all of you on guard, is when one younger guard decides that rabbit needs a closer inspection after the scanner squawks. Knowing her gear isn't proof against a more thorough search her fight/flight instinct almost takes over but the crowded terminal proves to be your first lucky break. Several women start yelling and hollering about sexual harassment and you're pretty sure at least one guy mumbling something about a 'strip search' and the guard is waiver her on.
The cab ride from the airport to Greybeard's is long and hot as the van rolls through block after block of downtown and then industrial before moving out into the outskirts of the city. Several hours later the cab pulls up to a heavy, rusted metal fence, topped in barbed wire and a chain link gate pulled open revealing an overgrown driveway.
Stepping out of the cab at the foot of the driveway you can see dozens of wrecked cars in various stages of disrepair or dismantling littering the are inside the gate as well as several piles of scrap metal and building materials that stand almost as tall as the high single story building at the end of the drive.
In front of a pair of garage doors waits a polished limousine and as you approach the rear door opens to reveal a well built troll in an expensive tailored suit and a smaller man with a briefcase.
The smaller man begins talking as soon as you step closer, "Welcome and thank you for coming on such short notice. I am the agent responsible for mr. Barker's, you would know him as Greybeard, will. We discussed this over the phone but for legal reasons I will repeat. Mr Barker upon his death has left you, miss Jacobs, his business property. The land and building you see before you as well as the complete contents. Due to certain clauses mr Barker left in his will, if you fail to take possession within one week's time of first notification you will forfeit your claim and the secondary beneficiary will be contacted. All you need to do to take possession is provide proof of your identity, DNA is the preferred method, and sign the paperwork I have in my possession." he pauses then adds, "And just to be clear, this meeting, our previous conversations and any other contact required to serve this will fall under our 'Discretionary clientele' or attorney/client privilege."
Minerva whistles as the lawyer lists off the contents Greybeard has left to her.
"Erm, yeah, thanks. I'll... get those signed right now.
As she walks over to get the troll's paperwork sorted away, Jackrabbit turns and walks backwards, gesturing at the rather dilapidated estate with a wry smile.
"See, nothing to worry about. We're already home!
The attorney verifies Jackrabbits identity and the two proceed to spend the next half hour signing documents and missives. Then he follows suit with the rest of you, with only one signature, as he hands each of you a small keepsake that Greybeard had kept aside.
Once business is concluded he hands Rabbit the keys, and his card, "Should you require my firms services yourself." and then his limousine drives off.
The building is solid, albeit an absolute mess. Inside through the door on the side is a simple office with a couple of half broken chairs and a desk piled with paperwork and old soycaf cups. A second door opens into the garage proper. The large square room with a high ceiling has three hoists that look ancient, several small piles of scrap metal or parts and a large shelving unit with dusty parts in bags and boxes. On the middle hoist sits a wreck of a car. An old Hotspur truck sits on the hoist, hood open and several parts removed and sorted to the side.
The whole place just looks odd to everyone. When you worked with Greybeard he was immaculate.
That hotspur looks very familiar. As you take a closer look you notice several things. The top of the truck has several holes that look far too much like bullet holes, there are several bloodstains inside the truck and someone has installed an old CD player in it.
There's no doubt. This is the Hotspur that you guys used on your last run with Greybeard.
The black sheep picks up one of the papers, only glances at it, and throws it away disgusted.
This is not Greybeard. The man I knew was a proper criminal. This place does not even look lived in.
The Black Sheep looks around.
2 successes.
Damn you Greybeard. I never thought of you as nostalgic.
Perception
Seeing the Hotspur, Bug pauses in the doorway. "OK, that I don't like."
Seeing 'Sheep checking around the vehicle, calls out "Careful there, Blackie, I don't like the feel of this."
You're right, something is off. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust except a path to the Hotspur. Interestingly though, the parts for the hotspur lying on the floor are just as dusty as everything else.
Jackrabbit's sense of ease is immediately lifted as she enters the dusty, unkempt space.
"The hell is with this?" she says aloud. "Greybeard was borderline OCD. Hell, I got whacked a couple of times just for leaving soycaf cups on the wrong table at the wrong time, and this place is filled with them."
She steps forward to investigate the Hotspur. "Never figured Greybeard for the sentimental type. This ride was busted, needed a good few weeks of repair before she was close to ship-shape, and even then I thought we agreed the ride was too hot. Hell, hardly thought I'd ever see it again."
Jackrabbit crosses her arms and a disappointed look crosses her face.
"Looks like he's hardly worked on it at all."
Biting her lip, Jackrabbit gives the hoist controls a thorough analysis. If nothing seems out of the ordinary she'll try to turn them on.
When Rabbit moves to investigate the hoist a small red light turns on in the panel. Taking the time to look carefully it looks harmless so Rabbit puts a hand on the lift controls and feels a small tingle then the light turns green. Nothing else happens but when she tres to lift the hoist the entire floor beneath the car goes with it revealing a hidden elevator. A clean white walled elevator sits there before you, while the hotspur sits perched on the actual hoist above it, every inch is clean and glaringly different from the rest of the building so much so that it almost screams sterile.
Bug claps his hands in delight, "Couldn't have done it better myself, Rabbit! Well found and uncovered, indeed !"
He moved forward cautiously, peering into the elevator.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm just that damn good," Minerva says as she steps away from the hoist controls and next to Bug.
"Yeah, that's more Greybeard's style."
A wry smile stretches across Goldy's face as he approaches the elevator, "Indeed, would've been a real shame to find out the old bugger'd spent his final days wallowing in his own filth in a dive like this. Now, let's find out where this rabbit hole leads, shall we?"
As the elevator slips down below the floor with everyone on it you can hear fans spinning to life and the steady whir of motors engaging. By the time the elevator stops there are dozens of fluorescent lights illuminating a bunker or warehouse three times the size of the building above it. Immediately to the right of the elevator is a wide desk with multiple keyboards, three dimensional scanners, touch panels and data ports while the wall beyond is dominated with a large high resolution display.
Past the desk there are six alcoves, each alcove contains a state of the art hoist from motorcycle to heavy industry size as well as what look to be complete toolsets.
The centre of the underground building is empty with a ramp heading upwards at the far end.
On the left is a wall with a dozen doors. Several of the doors have wide windows between them while others do not.
While everyone is glancing about you finally notice a few lights blinking on the desk and then the display lights up.
INCOMING TRANSMISSION: Mr. Lawrence
The Black Sheep steps off the elevator and his face turns into a wide grin.
He finds a table and lets the straps of his bag slack off and crash onto it. He looks around and says to nobody in particular, almost under his breath.
"Not bad, could just use a few decor. A few paintings to add taste. A rug to make it feel roomy, then maybe lounge and a bar should do it to make it a real home away from home, away from home."
As soon as he hears the beeps his grin is lost as if the sides of his face were given dumbbells. His finger hovers above the answer button waiting for the rest of the group to come by before he finally presses it.
Bug steps off of the elevator after Black Sheep does, standing with his hands on his hips, declaring "Now this is more like it!!"
Trotting down the bunker, he looks in the various bays and rooms, crowing with delight now and again.
His cursory inspection finished, he saunters over to where Black Sheep glowers at the desk display before him.
Peering over Black Sheep's elbow, he says "Watcha got there, Blackie?"
"It is probably my pediatrician. No matter how far i get away from him he finds a way to sniff around my feet."
The Black Sheep wracks his brain trying to come up with the name Lawrence, but nothing shows up.
Do you think it's a Johnson?"
Jackrabbit almost breaks out laughing as she enters the cavernous whitewashed space. Pfft, thought Greybeard said he'd retire," she says, giggling.
She catches sight of the hoists and moves to peer at them. "Oh Greybeard, you beautiful man, you. You always knew how to make a girl swoon."
At Sheep's beckoning, Jackrabbit moves over to investigate the console. "Could be a Johnny-boy. If so, our coming here's either been foretold or noticed by somebody." She starts scratching fervently as worry lines cross her face. "Not that we were trying to stay incognito or something, but still... Guess it's best to answer."
With the flick of a button the screen shifts from black to a shadowed image of a man sitting at a desk. All of his features have either been hidden by shadow or blurred by high end software. "Hello, you must be Greybeard's... friends from up north. You may call me Mr. Lawrence. I'm sure you have several questions like who am I and how did I know you were there. Suffice it to say I was Greybeard's agent here and he asked me to contact you if you ended up showing"
Jackrabbit crosses her arms over her chest and gives the computer screen a doubtful look.
"You know, when we last saw each other Greybeard told us he'd be retiring. Apparently not, mind. It looks like the old man just couldn't stop, but what exactly did you do for him, and on that note, what exactly did Greybeard do here?"
"Well he did retire in a way miss. He left the shadow game but never left the world. Over the last several years, and with my help, he came to be one of the most sought after mechanics in San Francisco for runners and their gear. As well as others with needs that standard shops and dealerships can't provide. Its a real pity he's gone but i made a deal and I always uphold my deals to the spirit of them. Some of you are new to the city and some of you haven't been around in a while. As your agent I can help get you in touch with jobs and suppliers all across the city. For a price of course, I'm not a charity."
"Glad to hear that old Greybeard kept busy and obviously profitable. " Bug says to the screen, leaning against Black Sheep "Well if Greybeard found you useful, I think we might be able to come to an understanding as well."
The Black Sheep grunts out a laugh at the mention of charity.
"Yes, well, and obviously I volunteer at a soup kitchen thrice a week. I show up at little children's birthday parties and let the little girls tie ribbons around my horns. There is no need to be petty, and we understand the drill.
The black sheep looks uncomfortable staring down at the screen.
First off though, there has to be an understanding between you and us. Business is business, and i do not do business with a man behind a screen. I do business with living breathing creatures, otherwise we wont know if we are being led into a trap. How much a percent are you talking about, and if you could be so kind give us an example of one of these jobs it might help your efficacy just a little bit."
"I facilitate a network that spans the entire western seaboard, I don't make a habit of meeting small time operators in person. If you're interested and able I can provide you introductions for several clients looking for your skill sets. My fee for these services are usually between two and five percent depending on the difficulty of the job." he pauses for a minute, "If not I bid you good luck in your endeavours."
"Whoa, there Mr." Bug exclaims "Don't be so hasty, we're in business for some business.... anybody that ol' Greybeard trusted is someone we can trust...right, Blackie?" he says giving a Black Sheep a look.
"It just so happens that I happen to have a job that needs to be performed immediately. And since it affects my reputation I'll even waive my fee this time. If your interested I'll transmit the details."
Minerva nods at Bug. "Interested? Very. Just give us a time, place and overview. Oh, and by the way, save the anonymous thing, how'd we go about contacting you again?
Mr. Lawrence forwards two numbers to the hard line as well a data file.
There are five pictures, two have bright red X across them, and the remaining show two humans and an Orc.
Team leader, heavily augmented close combat specialist. Known aliases: Darcy Quinn, Able Three, Sammy/Samantha Avery. Known places of Interest: Jeb's diner, Warblers Den, the Electric House. No known address.
Team hacker, superficial augmentation, limited combat abilities. Known aliases: Bobby Orr, Wizard501, Elberect the Destroyer(sim-mmorpg:Heavenly Quest). No known places of interest. No known address.
Team arcane specialist, no known augmentation. known Aliases: Emmery Phillips, Oriculango, Gar the Red. Known places of interest: Elm St Redline, Salim's Arcane Emporium, Redwood Memorial park, Denny's (various locations). Last known address: 8546-32 Wellington place.
This team of runners where hired to procure a valuable artifact for a client. After acquiring the item they cut ties and went dark. Network agents have located several transmissions relating to the object and a supposed digital auction of it happening in several days.
"Well, clear enough. Two questions though: Where are we dropping the artifact off, and how badly do you want these three fine individuals dead?"
"Contact me once you have the item and I'll arrange for a safe drop point. As for the three of them do whatever you want with them, their careers in the shadows of the west coast are over."
Bug flips through the file, eyes intent on capturing each and every detail.
Looking up to the shadowed image of Mr Lawrence, "OK. Which one's in charge. They'd either have the item or know where it was. Or was one of the deceased, the leader?"
Jackrabbit sighs her head and pinches her temple. "F*+#in' A, I've got a headache coming on."
"Yeah, good. We're not hired hitmen. I'd rather not our rep starting out here is of some fools with a hard-on for smoking other runners."
"Also, what kind of gear are the idiots supposed to be packing? I'm not just talking guns. What about security equipment? Vehicles?"
"I don't have inventories of their gear. Assume they'd have at least above average security wherever they are holed up and probably one or two different vehicles."
"Alright Mr. Lawrence, consider the job taken. Now, where pray tell can we find these fools?"
"That is where you come in. In my experience I've found that it takes runners to find runners. If it was easy I'd hire bounty hunters, they're cheaper. Now if you'll excuse me I have other business to attend to." he then disconnects and leaves you staring at a blank screen.
You've been in San Francisco for only a couple of hours and have already managed to pick up a job. Thinks are already looking up.
"Well, let's get started shall we? Let's start small, pay their homes a visit. Someone should do it alone, in case they're not there but watching the places to see if anyone's hunting them. That way we can scope them out without looking too suspicious.
"Yeah, home is where the runners is.... I think that's how it goes. " Bug says, standing up and stretching
'I'll go " he says smiling "It'll be good to get back in the game again!"
"Only address on file is for the mystic...hmm, this'll be interesting."
"Hrm. I could go around, do some sight-seeing. I'll head downtown, start talking to some people, just cruising for rumors, information on these guys. See if anybody's heard of them."
Jackrabbit puts her hand to her stomach. "Maybe even grab a bite to eat. Airplane food's not exactly what I'd call food."
I suppose i will attend with the Ms. Jackrabbit, just to add support if we meet somebody we want to have legs broken."
How far back does the girl's seats go back again? Last time my knees were shoved far into my chin.
"We should also hit up the local clubs. I still have a few contacts I knew from a fellow in Seatle. The man i believe goes by the name of Trevor Slim. The poor man, i believe, still owes me a tap."
"I suppose I'll look into a few of their places of interest, see if anything can be brought up. Do try to be inconspicuous everyone, I doubt they're dumb enough to believe no one will be after them."
Catching a cab to a block south of Garbeck's apartment you find yourself in a meta-slum, an area of abandoned, derelict and old buildings used by squatters and unfortunates that can't afford to live anywhere else, and from where you get out you are fairly sure you can see at least three different 'vendors' camped near the entrances to several buildings. Walking down the street your senses on are high alert knowing that you could be mugged or worse here and no one would every know because Lonestar never comes out this far.
Minerva and Sheep: if you're just cruising around looking for gossip and rumours give me etiquette checks please to see what you can mange to find. And give me either disguise rolls to blend in as tourists or infiltration rolls to hide your presences.
Goldylocks: Is there a specific locale your heading to? There's a restaurant, a bar and a dance club listed.
Also can I get a perception check from everyone.
Perception Check 1 [Perception 3 +Inutition 2]
Perception Check 2 [Perception 3 +Inutition 2]
As Bug gets out of the cab, his training kicks in , he's scanning and looking unobtrusively, seeing the groups of dealers herd and there he quickly makes for an alley between buildings, making his way towards Garbeck's apartment building.
Infiltration(10) + Agility(4)