Act One: Sharn

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5RzHFd--UW4

Sharn, the city of towers. What was once the pearl in the hilt of the dagger river that cuts through Breland has grown to become a mega-metropolis that covers most of the province. Home to well over 100 million residents and at least one major office of each of the 13 great dragon marked houses. Sharn is the bustling center of almost all commerce across Korvhair, making it the ideal home to Shadow Runners. People and Constructs with the skills for almost every occasion and the complete lack of common sense to do anything else.

In the days following the beginning of the new year of 2995, each of you will receive an interesting job offer sent to you either by your fixer, or lacking one, sent directly to you.

It was late night. Perash groaned and sat up with the long creak of aging cyberware. Cybereyes booted on, initially in lowlight as his internal commlink turned on the lights and starting the soy press. Processed nutrient paste was heat-pressed into a thin, tough slab. The human-looking elf climbed off of his couch, re-securing the sawed off shotgun he had kept clenched in his fist the whole night into the quick-draw holster at his waist. He scooped the slab off of the plate and bit into it, commlink displaying the mail he had received while he was sleeping. Spam, death threat, spam, death threat, death threat. Job offer. Huh. That was really convenient. He was down to his last couple hundred nuyen and the booze was getting low. Booze. Yes. He went to the cabinet, grabbing a bottle of really cheap rum, and pulled off the cap, taking a long drink.

Bottle is empty when he is done, and he takes another bite of the soy slab. He would need to go out to keep some Dragon hacker tracing back his location. He goes to his other cabinet and pulls out an armored bodysuit. Minutes later he had it on under a simple set of clothes, a hawaiian-patterned shirt covering his twin holsters for his modified Guardians, one clip standard ammo, one SMITE brand Ex Explosive rounds in each. With that he walked out, and noticed the new graffiti on his apartment door. The spiraling mark of the Dragon Below. Well fuck. He still had a five month lease so he couldn't leave. Would waste too many nuyen. Time to invest in home security. But in thinking that he thought to just buy more ammo. He walked down a dozen flights to the nearest skywalk and left the building, connecting to the virtual bar in AR and inputting his passcode to enter the 'Green Room', his icon a simple floating flame. He would keep moving the whole time of the meeting, jumping from public connection to public connection as he walked the area.

Sharn, the city of towers. A city of total chaos, the only place an aspiring sky pirate could happily call home. Said pirate, however, was at the moment asleep. Nevermind that it was three o' clock in the afternoon, she'd been at a New Year party last night, and said party had not really stopped until well into the small hours of the morning. She hadn't gotten back to the ship until sunrise. It'd play hell with her sleep schedule, but she didn't have any work until the following day, and she'd have plenty of time to fix her sleeping schedule.
She was jolted awake, however, by the sound of her commlink going off. Suddenly jolting upright in bed turned out to not be the best idea, as she promptly hit her head on the ceiling of the small 'nook' containing her bed. What resulted from this was an explosive volley of swears that would make most airmen blush. Stumbling from her bed, Susan made her way to the commlink where it had been discarded, checking the message... "Mobius Strip... Well, if they're paying..."
It was at this moment that somebody chose to knock on the door. Rose was forced to scramble to gather her clothes together, hastily dressing herself before answering. "Who the hell- oh. Good morning, Detective..."

Detective Heath Abrams, the continual thorn in her side. "Morning, Captain Enfield? It's three in the afternoon. I am here to perform a random inspection on behalf of House Lyrandar. I trust that you will not object to our coming aboard to perform our inspection?" He jerked a thumb towards a much-younger assistant, who smiled and waved.

Rose sighed. "Object? Me? No, not at all... Provided you have a warrant, I'd have no objections to you coming aboard my ship and rummaging through my things... again."

Wordlessly, Abrams punched a few buttons on his commlink, sending a copy of the warrant to her own. Satisfied, she had no choice but to step aside and allow the duo to enter. The aide showed her a screen, showing the official blueprints of the Lucky Break, along with all official information including her last five cargo manifests. "Can you confirm that this information is up to date and correct, Captain Enfield?"

Rose simply nodded, keeping an eye on the Detective... "That seems like it's in order, Detective. Have a look around, why don't you... Coffee?"

Abrams scowled for a moment, his voice lowering. "Are you trying to bribe me, Captain?" There was a very tense silence in the few moments following this question, before he suddenly burst into laughter. The poor aide, not quite knowing how to respond, joined in, laughing somewhat awkwardly along with his superior, before Abrams suddenly cut off, leaving his aide laughing quite awkwardly alone. "Thank you, Captain, but I'm afraid we'll have to take a rain check. Lots of inspections to do today, beginning of the year and all."

Rose gave a weak sort of chuckle, at that, before turning towards her 'kitchen'. "Right then. You know your way around, I'm going to make some coffee."

Abrams nodded, and walked off into the storage areas. Apparently finding nothing untoward, he emerged a minute later, his frown somehow even more unhappy-looking. Rose narrowed her eyes, catching the way the Detective's eyes scanned across the room*. Is he... taking measurements? Why the hell...** "Well Detective, unless you found the fridge with the dead elven escort in it, I take it you're done for the day?"

The aide laughed, but one look at his superior's face made him stop. Abrams now sported a scowl so intense it almost seemed as though he was trying to glare the paint off the wall. He spared a glance to Rose, but sidled over to the fridge, opening and checking it, just in case, apparently. Satisfied, he closed it, and walked purposefully towards the door. "That will be all, Captain. Have a nice day."

Rose drew breath again when the door closed, and she saw the damned detective leave the dock. "Fucking... He's obsessed, I know he is... It's fine, can't prove anything..."

She grumbled to herself, glancing at the pot of coffee she had brewing. Likely, she'd need the whole pot.

~~~

It was later that evening that she sat down at her desk, booting up her commlink... Time to go to work. Her profile switched over to the one belonging to Rose Walker, and in an instant, Susan Enfield was gone. Her passcode was inputted, and the bar, entered, her avatar making a beeline for the Green Room. "Here we go, boys... Better have some good loot heading my way."

Spoiler:

Slycrank had arrived at the Public Bathroom he would occupy for the entire meet on the node, keeping his proxy working and mostly just planning to be spotting traces just in case so he can terminate it and skip site if needed. Having checked this site before he knew the exits and the local response times, as well as security for nodes of this type. Since he would be operating in AR mode, there was really no need to worry much, but he never liked to take chances without due cause.

He felt his gears speed up a bit and the fan keeping his temperature steady kicked up as he went into AR, where he stayed for some time, monitoring the ins and outs before he went into the club, so he could get a feel for the place. He was familiar with it from many visits, and went into the club to chill and chat with chummers while he got ready for the meeting. When it got closer to time he pass-coded and entered into the Green Room, his accessible memory pulling up a blank new file with information regarding this next mission. His mind alight with codes, facts, figures, and ready to respond if a trace was noticed. Until then he would do as usual and let the patron talk, and merely listen until called upon, even if others talked, he would not interject until necessary, at least that was the plan. Often times he knew he would get impatient and would interrupt if the conversation went on a tangential topic, not related to the primary purpose behind this meeting.

Slycrank only hoped this mission would be one his skills would suit. He was fine with wet-work, but he preferred stealth acquirement himself, as it posed less danger to himself and his associates to sneak in. Wet-work usually involved for him, a single shot through the brain pan from a distance, then a quick planned escape, and if the shot missed, bugger it, there will be more chances. A second shot was not worth the risk of exposure and possible detainment. His cover had to be secure, and he had to continue to keep his nose clean in public, so he could do his job in the Shadows.

He grinned, enjoying his job, and always aware that complacency was a bigger killer than courage, and both had to be limited, along with other passions, if he were to operate as long as his fellows before him. Still, this location was perfect for training his body, balance, speed, and stamina, albeit artificial the stamina was, he felt stronger, and more alive than he had felt in a long time. Once he arrived he meditated, waiting for the meeting to begin. (Body + Meditation (Pool 6: 4,5,5,5,5,4) 4 successes) He was meditating calmly, still quite aware of what was going on around him, but trying to relax, so as to better be prepared, clearing his mind of any thoughts as to what this mission was about, so not to come in with preconceptions that would assuredly be proven false.

"Aderon Sternleaf reporting."

A male elf of medium height, medium weight, slightly-below-medium age, and slightly-above-medium dress is standing before a stadium somewhere in lower Sharn which is reportedly scheduled to be demolished later this week. He continues posing, microphone in hand, for the mounted camera drone until it signals it's stopped recording. He then braces his eyes for the sun it was so cleverly blocking and collects it from the tripod. He shoves the drone in his pocket, and gently folds the tripod and tucks it under-arm, before immediately -- carefully, as technically the House owned it -- setting it down again. He pulls out his commlink and thumbs through it for a bit. A message. From the boss. He works it a bit more and starts a call.

"Aderon here. No, just about done, though. Got one more person to bug. Hey, look, I'm going to be busy at around 11 PM tonight, so could you get someone else to fill in for -- oh, OK. That works out just fine, then. Great, thanks. No, you can't come this time, sorry. Alright, thanks. Goodbye."

He puts the commlink away, and looks out for that one more person.

---

Aderon yawned, licking off a stray drop of soykafe from his cup. He was used to staying up until 11 PM. Hell, he was used to staying up well past midnight. He wasn't used to waking up at 7 AM. He took a nice two-hour nap, but it didn't help terribly much to discourage showing he was just a bit tired. Still, he lied down on his bed, prepped his commlink's sim module for VR, and drifted into the matrix, just in time to reach the meeting five minutes early.

As you arrive at the Mobius Strip matrix bar you get a chance to see a bit of its odd layout that is part of its name and fame. Your icon moves into a room that is about 10 meters deep, 10 high, and stretching well into infinity wide. You take care not to look to far to the sides as the twisting hallway is a tad nauseating for any but the most hardened of code slingers to look at. On the wall opposite the entrance is a bar that boasts an expansive and expensive list of simsense beverages, ranging from the latest in designer cocktails all the way to original coke advertised to have "Hyper Accurate Cocaine High!". Behind the bar an icon is rapidly serving drinks to the many high end patrons at the bar.

But work comes first, once you have taken all of this in you see a glowing cyan diamond bouncing around at about chest height. Once it sees you take notice of it it turns green and shoots off down the hallway. Thinking this to be a guide you follow it to the Green Room.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ph5O51iXrxM

Inside sitting at a conference table you see a man. The icon you see goes well beyond the level of detail that you have seen on even the best of designer icons. Whoever made this Johnson's icon has perfectly captured every nuance of a humans face. The man appears to be in his 30s with jet black hair in a neat business like hairstyle. He is wearing a medium gray suit that has a tasteful cut. The only thing out of place you see is his tie which has lit characters running up in down it like a stock ticker. Though you cannot make heads or tails of the strange characters or symbols.

The man stands as you enter the room (Which is decorated in shades of green with a mural of rolling green hills with a blue sky on the walls). "Ah good, you have all arrived right on time. I like that. Punctuality is important for a good first impression." He gestures for everyone to take a seat as he walks over to a bar on one side of the room. He pours a drink and is then sitting back at the table, he shakes is head and is back at the bar where he takes his drink and walks back to the table and sits down.

"Most contacts like myself prefer to be called 'Mr. Johnson'. I however prefer to be called 'Helper'. As you have been informed this meeting is about a job. I will be blunt when I say that this job involves undertaking illegal activities. You will be stealing a valuable object from moderately well guarded area, storing it for a period not to exceed 30 days,(As he says this he holds up a hand with 30 fingers on it, he seems a tad shocked at this and puts the hand away) and then inserting it into another moderately well guarded area. Wetwork is not needed and is in fact highly discouraged. All less than lethal forms of dealing with security however are allowed. Payment for this job will be 5,000 Nuyen each for both the extraction and insertion. Plus an additional 250 Nuyen per day of storage. If these terms are acceptable I will explain the job in more detail. You will have a chance to refuse the job after the details but you will be required to sign a NDA at that point."

(If anyone wishes to roll negotiations for the price feel free. Mr. Helper will refuse to answer any questions about the job until everyone either accepts the terms or leaves the meeting. He will point out the stocked bar while everyone makes their decision.)

Slycrank noticed this cyan diamond and saw it change green. When it shot off down the hallway, he got to his feet and jogged after it to the Green Room. Upon entering he was very much impressed with the level of detail for this Mr. Johnson's icon. He especially liked the tie, it reminded him of staring into raw code of the matrix without any kind of filter. It was kind of an organized chaos, and very soothing to his brain.

Slycrank immediately went over and sat down at the table, where he went to mention to the Johnson he had left his drink at the bar, but thought better of it since the Mr. Johnson noticed and was soon back there grabbing his drink. Slycrank shook his head, and settled into his chair.

Slycrank though to himself that this job paid enough, the "moderately well guarded area" for both extraction and insertion must be pretty damn well defended. The fact Mr. Johnson, no, 'Helper' suddenly had 30 fingers made him suppress a chuckle. Obviously this 'Helper' was thinking that number a bit too strongly and altered his Icon's code. Slycrank was also happy it was not involving Wetwork as he did prefer less than lethal methods as unconscious people didn't draw the same level of retribution as corpses. Especially because as with any mission, those who you run against have their own agenda for the "valuable object" therefore will want it back and may send Runners for you, even if you have already injected it as this 'Helper' put it. He would definitely have to ask about the 30 days, even if he did not think that it would take 30 days, that seemed like a very important point, and perhaps a time limit was related to the object. An Organ? All conjecture, he shook his head to get it all cleared away.

Knowing himself to be horrible at negotiation, he would remain silent and observe to see if anyone was successful before he agreed to the offer. Although as it stood he would definitely accept the offer, but perhaps have to fill out NDA's if necessary, should it prove above his skill level. He very much doubted it however, as he was here to test himself and tone his abilities anyway, difficult missions were desirable.

Aderon takes in the atmosphere of the matrix bar. He never really liked the matrix -- it was always a bit too unreal for his tastes -- and the bar was a nice symbol of everything he disliked about the Matrix. People congregating in a virtual place to enjoy virtual pleasures, all the while listening to virtual music. The music, he thought, was the one thing he couldn't complain about too much. He was always impressed with the selection they have up, and quite frankly, listening to music via SimSense wasn't terribly different from putting on a pair of earbuds and playing a track on your commlink. He glances around, and quickly spots the gem. He walks up to it, then as it moves, follows, for want of any idea of where to go without asking for directions; although his icon, a plain stock icon, wasn't anything like his real personage, he didn't want to give himself away all the same.

Inside the room, he took a seat opposite the Johnson, four minutes early. A little later than he expected, but early is early. As the Johnson stood, so did he, and he listened intently as the Johnson spoke, occasionally nodding featurelessly, all the while silently deciding how fair the job offer was to him.

Theft mission. Moderately well-guarded, sure, whatev -- wait, what? 30 days, OK, so this job's going to take up to a month? Seems odd. And...a planting mission. Interesting. No blood? Damn, I knew I should've grabbed shock rounds for my...we're getting paid how much? Could do much better than that.

"Hang on, hang on," he calmly and quickly interjects as Helper finishes, "you're offering up to..." He pauses for a moment to do the math. "12,500 nuyen for a job we'll be very much so tied up in taking. That seems a bit low for a month's pay, especially since we don't know who we'll be swiping from. The job itself seems fair enough, but I'm not going to accept unless we hear more or get paid more. Since an NDA's involved, I doubt the former's an option."

(Trying to get a better price. Opposed Charisma + Negotiation Test: 9 hits on 21 dice. Waiting for opponent's results.)

((5 hits on opposed roll.))

Helper considers your words while swirling his drink. After a moment the motion of this becomes too fast to follow before it comes to a dead stop. Looking up he says "There will be secondary objectives that if treated in a similar manner to the primary will earn you 1,000 Nuyen per object per person. And if you perform well perhaps I will drop a good word for you all to some others such as myself."

Looking deep in thought, Aderon considers the offer. "That sounds better. We can still refuse after hearing more, right? Also, where do I sign?"

Helper waves a hand. "Of course, as I have said. As long as you sign the NDA after I have provided the details you may refuse the offer with no hard feelings. Just to be clear, the NDA is for those who do not wish to participate in my offer, as a way of protecting me and my interests. The NDA will not be necessary for those who accept. I will however take your question to mean that you wish to hear more."

Rose considered the Johnson's information, carefully weighing her options. On the one hand, legitimate business had been slow lately, and things had been difficult for her... Not to mention, she had bills to pay, and precious little to pay it with. All things considered, she really couldn't afford to hold out on this. "Well, Helper. Color me interested. I'm willin' to give this a shot, I think. What's our team look like, though?"

Miyaoaxochitl was pulling up to Sharn for the first time. She stared in wonder at the metropolis, amazed at the sheer size of the buildings that encompassed the view. Her home back in the jungles of Xen'drik had nothing even close to this; their pyramids looked puny compared to even the smallest of the visible buildings. And everything was so shiny...

Well, if there was anywhere she could start looking to make a name for herself, this was it. Surely in such a massive place there was room for an ambitious elf. Fist, though, she had to find a job, and preferably someplace to stay outside her pickup. She pulled on her jacket, hit the gas, and began to drive into town.

Two months later finds her still living in the truck at the beginning of the new year. She'd had a few jobs here and there, even picked up a few contacts, but nothing stable. While this was a far cry from what she was used to, she was determined to stick it out. It wasn't like she had much choice in the matter anyway, there was too much risk in going back. Still, she only had a few hundred nuyen left, and that last hit of psyche was a while ago. She needed a job.

It was while she was eating lunch that the ping came. She was sitting in a now familiar noodle shop, the only place cheap enough for her to eat at the moment, when her contact gave her notice of just what she needed. Thanking and paying the owner, she retreated to a corner of the shop, and slipped her comlink into VR mode.

The bar threw her for a loop. A much greater call for virtual craftsmanship was apparent here. Keeping from looking down the hallways unless absolutely necessary, she looked for anything that might point her in the direction she was supposed to go. When she saw the little diamond and figured out it was her guide, she turned a little queasy at the thought of following it, but did so anyway. Life requires money, after all.

As she walked in, she noted the Johnson--or Helper, she hears--had already started talking. Slinking down past the little line of people in front of him, she took a seat at the end and began to listen. She got the gist of the job, and was grateful enough when one of the other persons got him to bump up the payout. This kind of cash could last for for a while if she used it right.

"Sure," she says. "I'm in."

Slycrank just nodded, stating calmly.
"I'm in."

One of the icons at this point will choose to leave saying that this isn't their kind of gig. The other icon that has yet to speak up will lean back with their arms crossed and nod their agreement to the terms.

Helper finishes his drink and then waves an arm. The mural behind him is replaced by a picture of an elf wearing a lab coat and a beret. The elf is standing proudly in what looks like an art gallery. "This is the subject of your job." Helper says indicating the elf. "His name is Wendelin Stef. A Doctorate in Bio-engineering, and recently self proclaimed 'Artistic Visionary'. My client prefers to call him an 'Odious waste of biomass.' Wendelin's work falls under the Neo-Indie-Neo-Dadaist reform movement. He believes that 'advance art is indistinguishable from a post-grads Petri-dish."

The picture on the wall changes to show a tower in what looks like upper Sharn. "Wendlin is currently displaying a number of his more important works in an art gallery in this tower. Your job is to break in and steal his prized piece, the 'Fishy Night'. As well as up to eight (8) other pieces of your choosing." The wall changes to a picture of "Fishy Night"

http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/gogh/starry-night/gogh.starry-night.jpg but with colored fish in a large aquarium.

Afterwards you will hide and care these pieces while Tharashk conducts a short investigation and Wendlin recieves his insurance money in record time. After Wendlin has the money in hand you will insert the pieces into his home. At which point Tharashk will investigate his home and find the stolen 'art'. Putting him in hot water, ha, with both Tharashk and Kundarak."

"You will be payed half of the agreed amount upon confirmed successful acquisition. And then the rest upon confirmed Successful insertion. You are not allowed to steal any more than eight extra pieces. You are not allowed to sell any of the pieces. If the pieces die during holding you will not receive full pay. You must insert the pieces into his home without leaving a trace. However during acquisition it is not necessary to be so discreet. Confirmed kills will result in a one thousand (1,000) nuyen per kill per person penalty. The show will remain"

"Any questions? If not then please take a basic info pack as a sign of your acceptance. If you wish to reject this offer simply sign a NDA and go about your life." Helper will indicate the two separate piles of folders and papers.

The info pack contains all public information on Wendlin Stef, the art movement he is part of, the show is he having, and the gallery it is taking place in. This includes Wendlins home address, a map of the gallery (Very basic, no indication of security.), and times that both the gallery and the tower are open to the public.

Insurance fraud? Except... Huh. That is confusing as hell.

"Just one: what kind of security does his home have?"

Aderon's icon takes a copy of the info pack and briefly scans it, checking mainly if his question was answered inside. He'll then look to everyone else, and shoots them a message as they take an info pack for themselves.

smallelf0990: Just letting you know, I'm going to spend a couple of days tracking down some things I'll need for the heist, like a disguise. If there's anything you'd like to tell me, just let me know. We also need a good spot to hide the art while we have it. I doubt we'll need my silver tongue for this job, but we'll need my stealth for putting the paintings back in his house.

---

Back in the real world, he makes preparations for the upcoming heist. Knowing the client wants nonlethal takedowns (more to the point, he doesn't want lethal takedowns), he scouts around for some nonlethal ammunition for his gun. He also looks around for a quick latex face mask -- it should be easier to track down one of those than a nanopaste disguise, and he's pretty sure that's all he needs.

Well, he needs one more thing. He needs to get a hacker.

smallelf0990 >> M1TT3NS: Hey, any chance I could get you to help me with a job? I just need to make sure there aren't any cameras on that I don't own.

(Buying Stick-n-Shock rounds for my sniper rifle; 28 should suffice, for 224 nuyen (+10 for the empty magazines) at 5 availability. Buying 5 hits on 22 dice. I get my ammo in a day.)

(Buying a latex face mask for 500 nuyen at 8 availability. Rolled 5 hits on 22 dice. Buying 5 hits for the second roll. I get that in two days, meaning it takes three days' delay to get my shopping done.)

(Getting in touch with my hacker contact. GM rolled a 4 on a connection 2 contact.)

Yolyamanitzin>>Group : Wait, so we're going to be stealing live animals in glass tanks full of water? Sounds like a lot of things could go wrong just getting them out of the bitch, let alone moving the fuckers.

She took a packet from the table, took a look through the contents.

Yoluamanitzin>>smallelf0990 : I can help with the infiltration bit of this job. Got some bitchin illusion spells that'll come in handy.

Rose snorts. "Neo-Indie-Neo-Dadaist Reform Movement? I hate this guy's guts already. But insurance fraud, that's pretty creative. Anybody here a hacker? If not, this is definitely the sort of job we'll have to hire one on." She takes a pack, leafing through it with a raised brow.

WildRedYonder > Group: I can easily steal a couple of fish. Question is, what time do we want to do this? If we wanted to, could pretty easily make a scene out of it, but something tells me our Johnson is looking for subtlety.

Yolya>>Group : Well, our Helper here should get ready for the most subtle-ass insurance fraud he's ever seen. I'm good for whatever time's good for the rest of you. I don't suppose we want to set up some sort of meeting place, huh?

TarnishedAsh>>Group: I know a bar I wont get shot for walking into. Lets meet there. Look for the guy with the most augs.

Perash sends everyone still there, with the exception of Helper, a matrix GPS link to a small bar in lower Sharn called the Fallen Paladin. The front is in the old style, no words calling it such but the neon sign out front depicts a heavily armored fellow falling from some sort of tower. Inside there is a collection of dedicated and silent clientele, and an equally silent barman. In the far corner Perash sits, sipping a stein of beer and watching the door. He also is definitely the most augmented man in the room, and the most recognizable by far.

Miya, after exiting the bar, decides it might be best to pick up some non-lethal rounds for this job.
(Looking to buy gel rounds, 4R, 30nuyen for ten, buying 40 rounds so that's 120nuyen. First test, 6 dice pool. 3 hits. Second roll, 3 hits. Ammo in a day.)

After getting her gel rounds, she heads off to the bar.

Spoiler:

She spots the most auged guy in the bar, walks over and sits down across from him.
"'Sup, mofo?"

Oh shit, she thinks, this is that guy who's on all those posters.
Fuck yeah, working with a professional.

Miya, noting that the her new best friend and fellow runner is apparently too damn pissed off to say anything, leans back (like, seriously relaxed. Arms over the back of the chair, legs up on the one next to her, the whole thing) in the chair and looks around the place.

"So, is it the place that's got your face like that, or the drink?"

She looks for a menu anyway, the place looked cheap enough.

Perash is just completely taken aback by this whole situation. It has been months since he had not been recognized by someone. This is would be the perfect chance to make a friend, someone to trust. That is what he would be thinking if his head wasn't full of wires. Most hours these days all he thought about was the perfect way to fire a gun. It was burnt into his soul by a soldering iron and scribed into the miles of circuitry in his body. Right now he was thinking what he would do if she pulled a gun right now. How he would draw. What round he would select. Where he would put it. How much he would have to pay the barkeep for damages. Words finally emerged from the sliver of him that was still metahuman.

"Shut up and wait for the rest."

Slycrank went to the bar to meet up with the others, then sat across the street from it for a couple minutes, to see if the Aug guy went in first. While he waited he went through a list of supplies and what he would need for the upcoming mission. Obviously gel rounds would be a good idea, due to the non-lethal nature of the mission, but assuredly he would prefer using his Defiance EX Shocker.

Once he had stayed about 10 minutes, he went in himself, wearing his Armored Jacket and wearing the Shocker on his belt, under the jacket. He glanced around the room, and noticed the "odd couple" over in one area, and recognized the augmented individual immediately.

Hmm... this could be interesting, indeed. He thought to himself as he went over and sat down near him. Glancing at Perash momentarily, he muttered. "3 so far. Now to wait."

A few minutes after the Warforged arrives, a young elven woman sticks her head in and looks around. She spies the party and makes her way to the table. Ignoring the glare from the bartender, she sits down and looks around at the party with a hopeful expression on her face. "Hi!"