Jay and Onyx slide into the car, and find a small note that says, "Meet at the bar. I'm buying."
Jay adopts his business neutral face. "We need to complete our own biz urgently, it is true. However, this may represent either a summons, or networking opportunity. I am inclined to act in the interests of our client first."
He smiles and half-chuckles. "So post move drinkies, it is."
”Let’s meet there,” Raptor says, mounting his bike.
The group heads over to the bar, the sky starting to change colors as the sun moves toward the horizon and its light reflects off the smog, diffusing what was probably a lovely orange-pink into a somewhat sicklier shade.
Unlike your last visit, the bar is considerably more full, and the reception is much more welcoming. As you're directed toward the back of the place - not the rear booth, but into a small room that's marked utility closet -- each of you have a tankard of dark-amber liquid pushed into your hands.
Opening the door, you see shelving - including the back one that's been turned, revealing a stairwell that leads into what looks like a collapsed bit of tunnel - maybe from a metroline extension that was never finished -- forming an oval chamber about 3 meters by 4. A number of weapon racks adorn the back walls, and a large table with a built-in touch display -- oldschool 2-d, not holo -- takes up the centre of the room.
A well-built dwarf turns to face you, looks to have a touch of native blood, with wind-scarred skin and black hair shaved down close against his head. "You wanted a meeting, here it is," he says, "..ahead of schedule, even."
He tosses over a certified credstick, "Told we owe you that.... and, well, we did give you a car..."
Raptor sips experimentally at the drink before setting it aside. ”Seems like it’s been an eventful night for a lot of chummers,” he says dryly.
”Neither do I,” Raptor whispers back. ”Clouds the mind and poisons the body.”
The dwarf chuckles, "In more ways than one."
He says, "I imagine they're still trying to figure out what went wrong... and where their second strike team went... and their air support." He chuckles again, then offers, "Speaking of, if you got the rigger's gear, I know a buyer. Get you a fair shake."
He rocks his head back and forth, and you hear a bit of metal grinding as well as a few loud pops, and he looks over at you, "But you're not here for that, you had other biz. So, let's hear it."
Raptor nods at Onyx. ”Sounds like there was quite a dust up. How did that shake out?”
The dwarf says, "I doubt that they're done, though they'll likely be licking their wounds for a bit. Still, we hope we can make it clear that it's not worth the cost of expanding into our turf and go find something less painful to do...."
”Why do you think they struck when they did?”
Jay corrals his drink. He's remembered to order a substantial whisky, not an inconsequential beer, trusting Siobhan to pick the brand.
He's not a real whisky fan, and finds it easy to nurse the drink, although murmurs appreciatively after the first sip.
He silently bides his time while the pleasantries are exchanged. IF the dwarf gives him an opening, he plans to broach the business at hand.
Raptor's question hangs in the air, just a little longer than Jay deems pleasant, proper, or propitious. No doubt Raptor meant it conversationally enough, but the pause. It's possible the question was interpretted as too probing, or possibly too forward.
Jay holds up the tossed credstick before secreting it in the inner pocket of his jacket. "Thank you. We endeavour to give satisfaction when engaged. We didn't get much from the rigger, primarily his personal arms, and the arm of his bodyguard. "
Jay cocks his head. Not quite the right tone, especially in current dress, read the room.
Jay raises the tankard of amber liquid. "All of your good health." He drains a good third of it, then sighs regret for the impending breach of bonhomie, and the return to biz. "You're an important dwarf, and you've got to be busy after last night. I respect that, so I'll try to be fast and direct.
"We are engaged to recover Fallen Star's lost goods from whoever took them. This is not our turf. Will you give us free range here? Can we talk with the guards or anyone you had on the scene before or after the robbery? Can you point us to likely fences in the area?"
The dwarf looks at Jay, his smile dropping only for a moment, then he says, "Don't like when drek goes down on my turf. 'specially not when we're supposed to be looking out. Bad for the rep."
He rubs his face, "Been busy with our new fragging friends, so we cut back patrols - if only to stop 'em from being nice targets to hit. But, Guardian... well, we owe her, so I'd been making sure someone keeps an eye on the place. Just a whelp, not a full member -- figure'd he'd stand out less... and we couldn't spare one."
He throws back his beer and says, "Gimme a sec, I'll go fetch you the wannabe..."
With that, the dwarf heads over to the table to talk to some of the other older-looking companions - then jolts for a moment before coming back.
"Kid's name is Nessa. Goes by Coalburn. Here's her number.... but, apparently, she's not checked in a couple of days - something we were a little too busy to notice. What night did you say Guardian's place got hit?"
Jay nods while the dwarf that he assumes is Rhino discusses the value of rep and their standing security measures under the triad siege. "Our client says the house was hit two nights ago. How long has Coalburn been silent? If you have an address, we'd be willing to check on her. We need to talk anyway."
"...[Guardian] says, "An important bit of information, though -- the gang -- and everyone else associated with that safehouse thinks it belongs to the shadowrunner Fallen Star ...
He rubs his face, "Been busy with our new fragging friends, so we cut back patrols - if only to stop 'em from being nice targets to hit. But, Guar-- sorry, Fallen Star... well, we owe her, so I'd been making sure someone keeps an eye on the place. Just a whelp, not a full member -- figure'd he'd stand out less... and we couldn't spare one."
”Any idea where we could track her down?” Raptor says, speaking up.
The dwarf nods, "So that lines up, last check-in we got was the same night. Fragging drekking Triad, stopping us from patrolling .. or for being able to keep track."
The dwarf quickly pulls out an inhaler and takes a puff, which seems to calm him slightly, then pulls out a pocket secretary and hits a few buttons, causing your phones to beep. "Here's her number. She's got a gunmetal racing bike, an Aurora, that she's been modding -- but it looks like her tracer's off... or, the EW she's been wiring up is on."
He adds, "She normally crashes at one of our flophouses, but since she's not been there, you can check at the Castoff -- it's where she's been getting most of the toys for her bike... it's a store with repurposed, refurbished and found items.. you know the type I'm sure. Anyhow, think she's got a pal there, or deeper pockets that we knew."
Jay nods. The Castoff sounds like the kind of place they need to check anyway.
"We'll certainly look for Nessa, especially at the Castoff. What does she look like? And are there other outlets for repurposed, refurbished and found items on your turf where Fallen Angel's burglars might fence their purloined goods?"
The dwarf shrugs, "She's an ork, brown eyes, still mark one naturals. Looks like she's got a mix of native blood based on her skin tone, but that could be anything, or come out of a bottle. Maybe a hand shorter than a doorway. Weird mop of red and black hair, kinda spiky. In her teens, but, you know, ork, so looks like she's in her late 20s. Blueish-black jacket - looks armoured - think she lifted it from a 'Star and painted it. Helmet's the same color, mirrored visor. Almost always has a duffel full of tools and toys she's working on."
He shrugs again, a little apologetically, "I'll ask if any of the other whelps have a vid, if so, I'll send it."
He rubs the back of his head for a moment, then says, "For hardware? We've got a storefront, but we've not made any big buys in the last couple of days. Castoff doesn't like big hardware - which might be why nobody bothers 'em - so it's mostly tech and maybe a few popguns. There's a kid calling himself Powderburn that mods gear - and will buy stuff, but only if he knows and trusts you. Other than that, there's probably some back-alley folks that'll take your stuff for a handful of cred and a stack of beetles, or you'd need a fixer to find you the right customers."
"Thanks, Rhino. Anyone else have questions?"
Hearing no questions, Jay addresses Rhino again. "Then I think we'll go look for Nessa. We'll keep you apprised of our progress."
Looks like we're headed for Castoff.