Ripples in the Lake: A Seattle Adventure in the Sixth World (Inactive)

Game Master Evgeni Genadiev

The memory came to her like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. She stares at the woman and when she looks, she makes a hand motion that anyone who was with Lone Star would recognize. She watches the woman closely to see if she reacts to the motion.

"Help y'self, handsome.", she nods at Nomad. "Though, it's a little more complicated than that. We ain't just hitting one place, and I ain't offerin' you for the cargo - whatcha get is whatcha get." Noticing Sunset's gesture, she curls her lips, her fingers brushing up on the table with a familiar '43', the in-house code for 'accidental injury'. One Sunset recognises all too well, the 'unofficial punishment' for perps arrested for crimes such as domestic abuse, rape, and, unfortunately often, walking while trog.

"And 'fore y'ask, ain't nothin' we're gonna be palmin' gonna be traceable, least once you scrub the tags." She takes another cigarette from her packet. "I can't give y'all a sum, but if you know what's worth what and your fingers are nimble, we're looking at up to hundred-fifty." She leans back. "Luck and traffic jams on our side, maybe even north of two."

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Ms. Johnson turns back to Wraith excavating a burger the size of a troll's fist from under a mound of fries. "Reckon it's less dangerous than that plate. The Pawns've been upping insurance costs a lot now that they've got monopoly in Seattle. All the places are in Seattle proper, I ain't crazy enough to raid an XT with a bunch of folk I don't know." She raises an apologetic hand. "No offence. If we're quick, we're lookin' at a couple of civvy guards and a Pawn pigeon in the skies. And if we're not, I've got a plan."

The hoverdrone appears again, a large glass pitcher of coffee filling up Ms. Johnson's cup before flying away. "Sorry, doves, but 'till we shake hands, I ain't givin' you specifics." She turns to Freddy, the finishes, "I'm sure you understand." Your fixer seems to break his implacable visage for a split second as he nods approvingly.

Sorry gang - work and sinus infection been stymieing my time and creative enthusiasm.

Road-Rage drifts in at the tail of the group, taking in the surroundings - seemingly paying more attention to the rigs and their makes, than the meet itself.

However as talk turns to the job, the hobs keen ears perk up;

"Heh. Traffic no problem to me. Hot pursuit or shoot with the loot... My wagon will roll. This crew know. They seen."

He grabs himself some coffee, then flashes his jagged grin as he leans back mulling the proposition;

"Due North for 2? Drek yeah I'll shake your tin-hand. Got builds to pay, so I'm in."

Sybil presses her lips together. She can't subtly jack in her cyberdeck without the others noticing, and certainly she can't go VR. Instead, she just takes notice of Ms. Johnson's icon shape, to track it at a later time. That was recommended by the various BBS threads about not getting screwed over by your employers.

"Affirmative on that, RR!" Wraith chirps in as the Rigger echos her own thoughts. "That kinda cred makes me want to do things that will make that cred, my cred. I'll berry yer huckle."

Glass shrugs. "I guess we can live with some loud complaints for that."
He then continues with a grin. "And if you're right about the amount of protection, it might be quieter than the last job."

"Low end score around 15 kay each, high end we're looking at 30. So long as were not talking cracking into AAA megas and making off with rockstars, I think we're in. Maybe we can come to a better monetary arrangement, however."

Nomad is in, he just wants to maximize the payout via Negotiation.

Negotiation (bargaining), pheromones, spending edge: 19d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 4, 3, 1, 6, 4, 6, 6, 6, 1, 6, 5, 4, 6, 2, 3, 4, 1) = 78
8 hits
exploding 6s: 7d6 ⇒ (5, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 1) = 33
5 hits
Exploding 6s x2: 3d6 ⇒ (2, 5, 2) = 9
1 hit

Total result: 14 hits, keep them all

Daaaaamn. That's a roll.

Ms. Johnson's icon, a stylised revolver barrel, pings onto Sybil's PAN. Ms. Johnson herself seems to be preoccupied with Nomad's pitch, before laughing out loud. "Well, pal, if your strut's half as good as your talk, we just might walk away rich. Tell you what, I'll cover your expenses, and then we split half-and-half, and I'll throw you a grand each for your expenses." She nods, then extends her hand to Freddy first, and everyone else after. The fixer nods, then seems to relax a little.

She takes a glance around the room, then taps on the table, sending everyone a PAN link. Gesturing over the table, a trid map of Downtown Seattle appears. "Now, I've got a plan, but you know you. Our targets are here.", she adds, and with a flick of her wrist, three yellow dots appear onto the map. "The Pawns recently invested a lot in getting parts of Seattle away from gangers and corp control. There's a couple new HTR hubs around Downtown, and all three of our targets are pretty damn close to one.", she smiles, pinging another, bigger red dot, on the map. "All three of the places have a HTR insurance, and if we hit them at just the right times, there's bound to be at least a minute we can buy 'till they arrange everything. That, and we're hittin' durin' rush hour."

Hovering her hand above the first target, she zooms out to a file with several trid pictures of the venue - two stories of a building complete with a garage, and a grainy snapshot of sterile looking room with desks and refrigerators. A small, barely larger than an ancient A4 sheet of paper sign next to the door suggests 'AG Chemie. "First one is a small medical lab that supplies one of Seattle's very own gammaware clinics." She raises a hand. "Before you get too excited, I imagine there'll just be a lot of premium meds, chemicals and drugs, not chrome hangin' off shelves. Though a list of clients might be worth a shiny nickel."

She zooms onto the second one, and the difference couldn't be clearer. A high-class front end, with magical diagrams, comfortable seating and unnecessarily tall shelves suggest that the place is a talismonger's shop. "From what my wiz told me, that place's got some unpronounceable German name, and is the favourite talismonger for Seattle University mage students. I was told it was ridiculously overpriced,", she adds, "but we'll get the four finger discount."

Ms. Johnson zooms out to the last one, a high-end retail store, surrounded by gardens and pedestrial alleys. "Now, the last one is a little strange, but apparently the numbers check out. There's a new line from that... Fashion Island comin' in every year, and it's due to come out next week. Meanin' whoever ordered one is havin' them Custom fitted in store right now." She shrugs. "Can't see the point, but I ain't the one buyin' ''em."

The drone once again swings by to refill Ms. Johnson's cup. Inhaling with pleasure, she turns towards the party once again. "Now, I could go in more details with my plan, but I reckon you know your team."

For now, I've tried to be very specific with the details of the places, but I'll try and get you maps soon. I was pondering how much of an issue splitting the party might be for me, but considering it's Shadowrun, it's not that much difference, except in writing things down. Which I do like.

"Wizard, chummer. Those financials make my little heart muscles all pitter patter."

Studying the targets, Nomads mind starts working and going over cons and different means to acquire the goods.

"These fashion types, I think we have an easier in there. Flag some bulldrek about contaminated cloths and buttons and such, maybe spike a fake Geiger counter or some nano-threat. We pull in with a receipt and work order to return the bad goods to the factory, with promise of return in like a day or so. Wed just need some good credentials, a believable threat on the goods, and a panel van with some racks. That plus a bit of fast talk and some coveralls, and they'd probably help load our loot for us."

"The magic place, I dunno much about it. Glass, you're our resident expert, any ideas?"

"A gamma clinic is gonna have some serious sec-men and overwatch. Going in hard and fast, or sliding someone in on a gurneys, only for their cyber-Barbie bod to come to with major butt-kicking potential might be our best bet."

"In any case, we're gonna need some more wheels. Something tough, that can blend, and hold a decent amount of drek. Minivans, Bulldogs, maybe a Gopher? RR, Johnson, got any lines on stuff like that?"

"Uh, for the third one I have some, some medical training. I'm drek at pretending, but, well, I figure we can do the Cyrano with Nomad?"

To Sunset, she whispers back "I can see."
It sounds impolite to fall into VR while there's a conversation going on, which forces Sybil to look through AR. She links to her cyberdeck, hoping that the action is inconspicuous enough not to attract attention.

In the Matrix, the Greek ceramic picture that is Sybil's icon spins a moment while the considerable computing power of her CIY-720 is routed through it. She quickly scans the Matrix for anyone running silent nearby.

Road-Rage eyes Nomad at the request for low profile transit;

"Might be able to rustle up blended transport... Big, borrow or steal... Depends what we need for which place."

He grimaces at his latest gulp of coffee before posing an option to the assembled team;

"Any of these sites cough up light cargo then we go two wheels. Beat the jam on bikes easy. License up as 'ware or mana couriers."

The hob cracks his knuckles with a jagged grin;

"For Gamma Clinic I say we grab one of their wageslaves. Tune 'em up for intel..."

"Magic stuff's likely to be light-weight & high value; to the right person. 'Course, also likely to be some nasty protection for the pricey bits."
"As for using a bike, I'll give it a go, but don't ask for wheelies or donuts."

Alanna's face lights up like a kid at Christmas when a FRAGGING GAMMA-ware clinic is mentioned. Her smile threatens to rip her perfect cheeks in twain and she all but starts vibrating in her seat.

He disappointment that no shiny, shiny 'ware will be on premises for her to abscond with is so hard it has a taste. And that taste is of a warm apple pie with fresh, real whipped cream that suddenly explodes and rips your throat apart.

At the mention of a talismonger her boredom is so sublime that she threatens to doze off right then and there, writing the whole thing off as a snore-fest.

She brightens perceptibly at the mention of VASHION-FRAGGING-ISLAND and eventually her emotions take the average and end up roughly where she started.

"Uh, for the third one I have some, some medical training. I'm drek at pretending, but, well, I figure we can do the Cyrano with Nomad?"

"Negative! on that, me chumie. Ol' boi said 'cyber-barbie'. That's -me-. If Madam-With-Creds was off on that (and she did say 'probably', truth be told," that the Ms. Johnson did not specifically say 'probably' does not bother Wraith at all, "so if'n there's volcanic-lava-type chrome to snag, Imma be th' hands what snag it."

She shoots RR an appreciative nod. "Can do, loading seduction program now." She pauses and her eyelids blink at 1500 RPM. "Mmmmm, hey there, tall, dark and Rage-a-licious," she breathes heavily at Road-Rage, putting just the right combination of 'save me' and 'take me' into her girlish voice. "My name's Wraith and I like long walks, deep kisses, and alllll the security layout plans for the clinic you work for. Buy me a drink?"

She giggles and goes back to eating.

"Great, so cyber-tart is on the piece. That'll be subtle. I'll see what auth I can forge, maybe there's room for a girl-in-the-middle (not a sex thing) attack that'll let me spoof credentials enough for another transfer. Other than that, my two-wheels mobility is somewhat limited. I've a thing I can use, but it's untested and I'd work on it more if possible."

At Wraith's performance Road-Rage pauses mid-sip of his soykaf wearing a rictus grin of jagged fangs.

Whether it is one of amusement or fear it's difficult to tell.

Luckily Sybil's mention of transport piques the rigger's interest before the latter emotion becomes too obvious...

"...You have my van for base-place Blue... For getting around tho, you considered Ares-Segway Terrier? Completely AR. Easy to port. Gyro-Stabilisation... Trick it out for you eazy..."

"Thought about it, but the specs are mostly the same as this thing, and it's a helluvalot less comfy when I'm in meatspace. And anyway, if I'm in the path of bullets, something's already as bad as can be, so for civvy use one dot-equals the other."

Y'know, we've been so good at planning, I just kinda assumed that everyone would be planning. But I'll start the planning, if ya wanna.

"Okay, sweet, Sybil, you're with me. We're gonna take a non-descript ride over to AG Chemie. Imma put in an application for whatever and watch the place, looking for HAWT BoYz to talk to. And also non-hawt boyz, because they don't get talked to as much. And also ugly ones. Okay, all of the boyz. And maybe girls, because I'm a professional.

Scan?"

"What? No! Alright, razorgirl, let me get this straight: I'm not for operating in meatspace, and I'm sure as hell not for any social entanglement. What I can do is get in their host and map their net, defenses, schedule and so, maybe while you flash your assets around and do your best nympho act, maybe not. But I'll do it safe and cozy somewhere near. Or I'll load a scrubber and be somewhere far."

"Sybil, you'll get used to Wraith's figures of speech sooner or later. Maybe slot a few TwenCen SciFi vids, and spend about 100 hours on watching old flatvid music videos. That should put you in the right ballpark at least."

Looking at the targets, Nomad pulls a drag on his cigarette and ponders.

"Simple recon jobs, then. At least enough to check their overt security and access points. Sybil, I think we can put you close enough, pending a blendable car or van, that you can scope their matrix stuff all at once."

Road-Rage chuckles as the group float plans and drop truths. He admires his new driving gloves - open-knuckled in black synth-leather, before adding in his take;

"For Med-Lab I still say grab some wage-rat. Put the scare on 'em. Magic shoppe maybe host Glass posing as a customer? Looking to buy somethin' rare in? As for Vashion I got no idea. Nomad and Wraith can play Mr & Mrs again. Front for party people looking to score new outfits. Who fraggin' knows..."

The hob nods toward the Shaman;

"Light weight an' heavy credit would be wiz. Depending where the shoppe is - I can slot and bike-run with the goods while everyone else ghosts."

"Probably still worth a gentle poke around the talismonger to see what sort of rep & security they're known to have. Might be the unknown stuff that's more trouble though."
Glass looks over at Sybil. "I dunno if there's likely to be much in your area for that one, unless they've got a nice stock control system."

GM - is this a place Glass has heard anything about; I'm assuming it's a bit out of his usual circles

"Yeah, well, thanks, that works fine. Nice thing about the Matrix, though, I don't need to be cheek-to-cheek with the mark to get the payload. So whatever van or such you got, I'll be cozy like a pea in a pod. And yeah, a talismonger might be light on cybersec, but that doesn't mean a pair of forged IDs won't be wiz for the run.",

Wraith was looking at her comm during Sybil's speech so it's hard to tell how much she was listening when she replies, "Hm? Oh, I get it, you're afraid of boys. Possibly some past trauma? Or do you still think that non-functional lower actuators are some kinda 'need not apply' thing? Oh, honey, girl, I knew this orc that all he needed was for his input to have a certain curve to the ears. O me chummers I tellz ya that it was -not- hard to please RockOn, like this one time--,"

Like a trid that suddenly losses power Wraith stops talking and a shadow crosses her face.

"Hey Nomad, we gonna do that thing that we do at both th' Med an' at Vashion? I could stand to look at bleeding-edge tech follow by sub-arctic threads."

The urge to brick Wraith's commlink or reboot it and lose her precious save data strikes Sybil, but she stops herself before starting to rack up marks. "So, Matrix recon, looking for openings, and tagging Wraith as positive to any STD I can think of. I can do all of that, in reverse order."

Road-Rage chuckles harshly at Sybil's putdown;

"Hack an' slash.. Heh-heh-heh. I like her."

Turning his thoughts back to the troika of jobs, the hob chimes in with a nod toward Glass;

"Us Barren's boys will check out the talismonger. You good with that Glass man?"

"Works for me, chummer"

"Ooooo, I get it--she's a virgin," Wraith mumbles, eyes locked on her beeping comm. "Maybe if that golden knot got unwound she'd be moar chill."

"Might be a far left field idea, but if we know any 'Weeners or someone similar, maybe a bit of a distraction for those oh so well armed HTR teams can slow em down a bit? Beyond that, i dont see why our Happy Couple(TM) routine wont work."

Sun looks over the others and then speaks up.

"So, umm...where do you want me to go?"

Sorry...been a busy week at work!! Did anything come of checking the drink-bot to make sure it was not spying on us??

"Rat says more muscle's always helpful in a fight." Glass looks over at RoadRage "And Sun's got a different take on the mana world than I have, so might spot something else we could lift 'n' shift."
He then looks back to Sunset. "Unless you wanna go play with Ken and Barbie?"

"I was in college, you'll have to do more than that. No, if we are done discussing each other's sex life, can we go to acting?"

@Sunset: I don't know, I was waiting for the GM to respond to my rolls.

Road-Rage nods in agreement at Glass' notion;

"Makes sense, Sun'll give us cred we can't buy."

The hob eyes the rest of the group;

"Titan's coming with me, but am guessing Sybil can support Mr & Mrs Vashon from where we'll be at?"

Ugh. You guys are amazing to keep up the RP for so long, even if there's a bit more friction than I'd have liked. If you need to chat, give me a PM. Also, everyone gets 2 Karma for RP interludes and witty commentary!

Freddy seems to react to the to-fro between Sybil and Wraith with interest at first, but then clears his throat audibly. "Sorry Kaffer.

At Nomad's question regarding the wheels, Miss Johnson nods. [b]"I've got the most stereotypical Phoenix y'all ever seen. Reckon if middle age had a car, it'd be that.", she nods. "Guess I could loan in to you two, if you're hittin' Vashon, but I'm wantin' it back." She nods afterwards to the rest, then back at Sybil. "Aight, folks.", she nods. "Here's the layouts."

Your PAN's ping with an incoming message request, featuring three different maps - a ground plan of the Magic Shop, Hexersschaube, the Vashon Island Outfitters and the AG Chemie's chemical lab.

She claps her hands. "Well, all things considered. We say our happy couple go to the fashion store. The mage, the gunslinger", she nods at Glass, though her eye jumps at Sunset for a moment, "and the big boy go to the talismongers. I'd warn you for a bigger chance for people playing hero there, but hell, least you'll get to geek the mage with every shot.", she chuckles. "Though try for low casualties."

She turns her eyes at Sybil. "I was pinin' to hittin' one o' them myself, but if you wanna be my guardian angel, darlin', I ain't gonna mind it. I know a thing or two 'bout meds and pickin' locks, but less time raidin' is more time lootin'. I've got a stored jap bike in a container at the docks, so I've got me covered."

Right, so I think Sunset/Glass/R-R is the perfect team for the mage shop. If Wraith and Nomad hit Vashon Island, then Sybil can either help them, or go watch over Miss Johnson - it's the same matrix rolls anywhere, come to think of it.

She lights up another cigarette, and finishes her coffee. "At any rate - what we're aiming for is hitting them all on the 15th, two days for now, right at 1825. Citygrid indicates that's the biggest congestion on the block - and that's bound to give us a minute or so extra to fill our share. Then, it's smooth sailin'."

Freddy nods, then rises up from his seat. "Any questions?"

"Divide and conquer, that seems the only way to pull this job off. If we're lucky, the Barbie and Ken team can pull off the clothing bit with some chicanery and little violence. If the mage shop is a bit more of a standard hold up, and the CyberMeds a break in, noone is gonna piece together the team as a whole. I'd still love to see some disposable assets cause a ruckus close enough to pull those heavy hitters in, preferably in a direction against traffic and at least a couple kliks out."

Road-Rage nods in agreement before adding his own thoughts with a hard word;

"Just remember that if any of us get pinched by The Star or Pawns, then no-one better spill 'bout the big picture. They catch me or come knockin' I'll be holding court on the street. Avtomát Kaláshnikova as my defence lawyer..."

"No Stars anymore Big Guy!", Sun says with a slight look towards their new employer. "It's the knights that you need to watch now!!"

Road-Rage shrugs;

"My bad. Forgot Stars just run the slams..."

The hob-rigger grimaces, all fangs and suppressed anger;

"Just sayin'. Pawns or rentacops, all the same... done my time, not checking in to the big house ever again."

"Aff. Just lemme do at least a walk-by on the med-med after we're done lookin' at th' pretties."

"As I said, location matters little to me. Locks, jams, computerized safes, you give me a virtual whistle and I'll be there, fans spinning."

The hob beckons for his fellow magicshoppers to follow to the Titan. He pauses shooting a look at Wraith and Nomad;

"You two got wheels or need me to drop off at Vashon?"

"I've got my bike, we can squeeze together if that's wiz, Wraith. We're styling for some recon, prob can sco0e the place and say hi at the least. With any luck one of the clerks is gonna have a taste for the noise candy, and we can talk them suits out the back."

It's always possible the GM is waiting on us to specifically say that we are actually doing a thing.

"Wiz chummer, let's ride!" Ever impatient to be about doing something rather than talking about it, Wraith gets up. "We goin' now, yeah?"

"Sure, let's roll. I got some funtime powder in my pocket and a shiny credstick to flash for clout. Let's go make some friends."

Nomad gets on his Mirage and waits for Wraith to climb aboard before taking off for the Vashon Island shop.

"Well I guess that leaves us to go and check out the talismonger's shop. You ready?"

Sun waits for the others before heading out towards R-R's van.

SSo, so sorry about the wait guys. I'll explain in Discussion on Wednesday, but long story short is I'm living the wageslave dream with all the overtime and no spare time.

Miss Johnson nods. "Great. I've done some recon, but information ain't somethin' you can have enough off." Extinguishing her cigarette in the nearly overflowing ashtray, she nods. "I'll head to scout out the chem lab. Y'wanna be my eyes in the 'trix, be my guest." Sending off an AR link for her comms, she stands up. "Keep me posted on whatcha find. And here's the front pay.", she passes a credstick onto Freddy, who nods, seemingly little more at ease.

The targeted day is in two days and change. Also, you all get 1,500 nuyen each for 'emergency expenses'.

Due to the task, I'll let Sybil chip in wherever she feels like she'd be the most useful, or even switch between the two places (as per Matrix Rules), as the two places are the same distance from where you are.

Recon away!

Road-Rage sits inside the Titan, flicking his attention between the streets outside and crew inside;

"Place seems to be as much a community as a business. Means we might encounter resistance from patrons as well as the usual security."

The hob flashes a jagged grimace;

"How we playing this? We buyers? Sellers? Dealers? Wheelers?"

Strapped inside Road-Rage's van, a task that required some flexibility from the Steed's smart wheels, Sybil checks her equipment once more, shifts the deck into high-Sleaze mode. Her commlink remains open, sending the data to her mind through DNI, and finally she loads the hot-sim and her body goes limp.
After the lackluster VR, coming in hot in the matrix is a jolt of life like nothing else. Information flows through the parallel circuitry of her mind, finally unbound by the meat shackles she was born with. A quick evaluation and visit to the two locations has her choose her first target and she composes three voice messages at once, data coming out of her Broca's area at the speed of thought.

Communication out of the way, she materializes to stylish abomination that is the Vashon Island shop.

Matrix Perception (+2 for hot-sim): 12d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 6, 3, 1, 3, 6, 5, 6, 5, 6, 3) = 47 - 6 hits

Glass looks over at Sybil's body "It's almost like going for an astral trip, the way she's just gone."
Turning back to the others, "We don't know what's in there, so we might as well be buying to get a look at the goods. Got any favourite things to be looking for Sun?"

<Wiz, Sybil. Great to have a techie working with us again. Contacts and Smartlink in my eyes, earbuds for audio. Everything's routed through my big 'link, so you'll have access to eyes and ears as needed.>

"Well, Wraith, new girls got our backs, and some short-term credentials. Shall we pop in, make nice, and maybe exploit some failings in ethics amongst wageslaves?"