Sun, Hero, and Citadel IC

[Meredith]

Renton Maersk Row 9.07pm 04/09/2118

The Row is the highlight of activity in the Renton district. Fading neon signs illuminate the street in all manner of pale colours. You can buy anything here - from cybernetics, to weaponry, to a good cup of soykaf. A sign outside of The Gypsy advertises Iced Turkey with Strawberries and Mass Produced Soy Dumplings with Sauce, among other equally palatable dishes. The streets are empty, but noise filters through from the bar in a sort of sleepy way.

Most of the shops are closed for the night. Commerce has all but halted for small businesses here, and there is no reason for stores to open late, unless their clientele prefers it. This is the case for the Gypsy.

The street is littered with long-abandoned vehicles and other remenents of the way life once was. Your contact is waiting for you.

Objective: Find your Contact

Lance Obrien is somewhere inside The Gypsy. The instructions you were emailed tell you to order a cup of coffee - a real one (with a note that you will be compensated for the cost) - and sit down at the round table near the back of the bar. The table is dark wood, and has a sign stating it is reserved on its surface, but the staff won't bother you. It's all business to them.

 

[Meredith]

The Gypsy Maersk Row, Renton 9.15pm 04/09/2118

The Gypsy is illuminated by the flickering glow of a dozen unmatching downlights. Local newspapers and collections of photographs from celebrities who had likely not seen nor thought about the inside of the bar in the last thirty years remain pasted across the back wall and ceiling, edges curling, some stained from thrown drinks or other mysterious liquids. The remaining three walls are covered in paintings - some beautiful, some manic. Occasionally, trusted customers are allowed to add to this cacophonous assortment.

Christmas lights are hung, zig-zagging across the ceiling, some working and some out. An unused and unpolished disco ball spins lazily when the opening of the front door produces a sufficient draft. The names of many people - both alive and dead - are carved into the wooden beams holding the whole place up. Not even the foosball table has been spared from decades of grime and graffiti.

The top of the bar is polished, but its front is covered in stickers, ranging from promotional materials and propaganda to little flowery cactuses. Some of the chairs match, but others have clearly been added over time, including the barber's chair that rests behind the bar next to the telephone. A round table at the back boasts a reserved sign, but the rest are full, the daily-stacked chairs strewn loosely around the popup tables in the bar.

People sit nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, in chairs or on the floor, talking or staring into the distance. The chiming of drunken laughter greets you as you come in the door. The entire place smells like cheap liquor and fake coffee, bitter and damp, although the latter could either be from the rain or existing mildew. Tia Williams, the bartender, mixes drinks. Her hands are deft, and she works in an almost hypnotic way, sliding them across the bartop to her servers. A blonde man in a long coat talks with her in a familiar way.

A group of young men sit near the entrance, trying to convince passers-by that they're working as valets, but nobody has yet went through the motions of telling the addicts that none of the citizens of Renton have had access to cars over three years. An older man with dark hair and what look like bone facial spikes watches them in amusement.

This is just another night in The Gypsy.

 

[Brax]

August Shaw was a man whose life had been on display for the past two decades. As such, when the world went to shit, the one thing he appreciated most was the distinct lack of paparazzi left to document his every move. The man made his way from the entrance of the hazy bar. A cigarette burning between his lips, the trench coat-clad gentleman made his way to the bar. It had not been the first time that August had been here, though the last time he had made his entrance was under much different pretenses. It had been quite some time since August had his last drink.

The former child celebrity made his way bar side, which had seemed to be flooded with its usual patrons. He was meticulous in his approach. Tapping the shoulder of a gentleman who had been sitting at the bar alone, August would watch the tired-looking stranger turned to face him. The man’s face illuminated upon sight of the man. He stood up from the seat just as August extended a hand to greet the man and the two exchanged a short amount of banter. Ultimately, it was summed up with one question.

“Do you mind if I take your seat here for a moment? I’ll be as quick as possible.” August flashed a smile, showing off those pearly whites in hopes that the man would allow him to momentarily take a seat. He nodded while returning the smile, sure to let August know he could take all the time he needed. August nodded before watching the man as he walked off. In the few seconds that this event took place, another person had swooped in to take the seat. This forced the man to growl in response.

The once-patron to the bar took the stool that was so rightfully his, leaning forward to ash his cigarette in the tray provided. His fingers tapped against the bar. Eyes traced the bartender as she hurried about, collecting orders and fulfilling them. A few seconds later she approached August. The woman let out a brief sigh and brushed her hand across her forehead, signaling that she was feeling somewhat overwhelmed. August flashed that smile of his as he continued with his order.

“I’ll take a coffee, please.”

“Always, darling.” The woman’s exhausted face gave way to a smile, and she glanced knowingly at the blonde man at the bar, forgoing the soykaf machine for a smaller, tucked away single-serve coffeemaker. Opening a reusable cup, she slid a small filter into it, setting the coffee to brew. She came back a moment later. “Usually twenty-five dollars, but it’s on the house tonight.”

Her fingers ran through her hair, and she toyed with her ponytail, tightening it. “What do you like in it?”

The male looked down momentarily. When the bartender came back and asked what he liked, August was partially lost in thought. He looked up to her, his elbow continuing to rest on the bar top as he lifted a hand. It motioned to the side twice just as he parted his lips to speak.

“I prefer black, thanks.”

She grabbed the coffee from the cup underneath the maker, bringing it back to him, and sliding it across the table. “Just let me know if you want a refill.” A wink, and she was back to the business of making drinks.

August nodded as his digits found their way around the cup. He placed the money on the table as he stood up, taking a moment to look around. He found the man who the stool had belonged to, his form leaning against a nearby pillar. The gentleman whistled to get his attention, one of his hands still on the bar stool as he waved the stranger over to grab his seat back. He was rather appreciative of the kind gesture. August put out his cigarette, telling the man that it was no bother. Then he took his seat at the reserved table mentioned in the email.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Amanda Price/The Hammer
The Gypsy​

It had been another long day for the fighter, a long day that she'd meet with no doubt an equally long night. She was skeptical of the message of meeting others with no names given, but that also meant they would most likely be in the same boat, which gave her power. She entered the bar, her hood drawn up to hide most of her face, her hands wrapped up in a half-assed manner with athletic tape. Dark, worn jeans and combat boots. She surveyed the room, nobody gave her second glances. Nobody probably cared about the hooded figure. She went to bar, leaning between two seats and waiting for the bartender to see to her.

"Ah, welcome back Amanda." She greeted, still all business. The hooded figure nodded, giving a light smile.

"Thank you. I'll take a coffee, actual one this time. Two sugars." She said softly. The woman nodded, getting her coffee just like the last man. "On the house." She said, sliding the cup to her. With a nod of thanks she rose, glancing back to the table she was told to sit at. There was already a man there, someone she felt she knew, but not quite. She made her way to the table, sitting across from the man with a nod. "Wonderful weather we are having, is it not?" She asked, lifting her head to the man. A cocky grin was apparent under the hood, coupled with gold eyes that almost seemed to search him, albeit quickly.

Brax

​

 

[Maj]

The smell of damp air and decaying wood hit Aeron’s nostrils long before she ever got to the door. It was sort of a sour smell, but among a city that smelled of bad body odor and garbage, it was almost welcome. Traveling through Renton at this time of night used to be relatively safe, but with the recent wave of deaths, anyone who didn’t look over their shoulders as they moved through the streets was either naive or an idiot. Although Aeron would argue that the two were the same.

This world had no room for naivety nor idiocy. Everyone had always said ‘nice guys finish last,’ but that had only become more true over the last several years. Aeron was not a ‘nice guy’ nor had she ever been. She had watched as the events of the world had hardened those around her, but she didn’t have to change. This is how she had been her whole life.

The flickering neon lights from the street clashed with the dim but warm glow from inside The Gypsy. Aeron opened the door and made her way inside, pushing past the heat and stench of the drunken bodies. She was used to the glances she received walking in. Her blonde hair and slim waist often attracted unwanted attention, but rarely was anyone brave enough to cross into her personal space.

“Good evening,” the woman greeted the woman behind the bar, her voice was low and smooth. She spoke with authority, but her tone was ever alluring, captivating those who cared to listen.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asked, turning to greet the newest face in what was likely a string of customers she had helped that night. Aeron smirked to soften her face. She had to be conscious of her facial expressions as her stony demeanor often gave people the wrong impression. The blonde placed her palm on the rough wood of the counter, leaning across to be sure the woman could hear her in the dull roar of the crowd.

“I’ll take a coffee if you don’t mind,” She spoke clearly. “Although, I’ve never acquired the taste for Soycaf.” The order was likely out of place, most people drank Soycaf. Most people ingested soy-anything really. When food and beverages were hard to come by, you made do. She was sure it was part of the reason that she had been instructed to request such a beverage. But the joke was on them, as she would have ordered it that way without provocation. Old world coffee was one of the few things she missed.

Aeron reached for the clutch that was tucked in the tight leather cinch that donned her waist. Her barista however put up a hand in protest, shaking her head as she emptied the filter from the last customer’s order and replaced it with fresh grounds. The smell of the brew was almost heavenly.

“It’s on the house tonight.”

The blonde gave the girl behind the counter a knowing smile but reached for the clutch anyway and placed a few wrinkled dollars in the tip jar in front of her. She was not one to accept charity, even in the line of duty. When the warmth of the paper cup was in her hand, she thanked the woman for the beverage.

“Cheers love,” she flashed her a wink and a coy smile. Aeron knew Tia, after all they were both in the same business. Information was the best commodity one could buy, and pretty girls were often the best at gaining it. The woman made her way over to the table she had been instructed to sit at. It seemed it was already rather occupied, both a blonde man and a dark haired woman sat around it. Aeron took her seat next, barely offering a glance to either of them.

She crossed her legs at the thigh, the long leather boots that covered them squeaking as they slid across the other and took a long drink from her cup, offering a happy sigh in response.

Brax LoneSniper87

 

[Kazanna]

Liliah Varen​

The Medic That Makes Meredith Scream​

Renton
Pahl Medical Clinic
7.07pm
04/09/2118

With a crack, and a grunt, a bone was reset, Liliah glared at her patient with an exasperated look. She tended to have excellent bedside manner, but this man had broken the same limb five times in the past week, and she was getting tired of being lied to about the reason. She pressed her fingertips against the limb and scanned the damage that was there, a cinching tool that hung from the ceiling went to work, mending the damaged limb rapidly. Liliah shook her head as she turned away from her patient, removing her fingertips from his skin.

“So Yuri, you slipped and fell again. A man who wears as fine of dress as yours, and with as good of shoes as you have…” She paused, glancing back at him, “Really needs to lie to his doctor about how he got hurt? You know I won’t charge you more if you’re part of one of the syndicates.” Liliah goaded him to admit his arm had been broken by someone besides his own clumsiness.

The large man glanced away from her, “It’s like I said Ärztin, I slipped, and fell at work.” he said as his eyes showed her he lied, her eyes scanning him, watching his adrenaline levels rise.

Liliah shook her head at him, and for the moment, gave up. There was little she could do to get the big German man to talk, and while she marked the damage as a slip and fall fracture, it was damaging his arm more each time the medical treatment equipment repaired the damage. Any of her patients that were honest with her were in perfect health, those that weren’t tended to need later therapy. The equipment in the office was finicky as it was, and she lacked the resources to make them any better, she also lacked the authority, as she was only a practicing doctor at the clinic.

As if to remind her of her post, the door slid open, and the head doctor at the office, stuck his head in, a sour look on his face, “Varen, Outside, Now. We need to talk.” He said with an angry scowl.

Liliah nodded, and keyed in the last of the commands to machines and stepped back from her patient. “Mr. Groß, the machine will finish up. I’ll see you in a week to make sure things are healing well. See reception on the way out.”

The head doctor had already left the room with a snap of the door, and Liliah sighed, staring at the passageway as a death sentence. She frowned and hesitated to leave the room, gathering herself before she reached for the door handle. The hesitation gave her patient enough time to put his hand on her shoulder, “Ärztin, Do you need me to deal with him? I could get him to back down for you. After all the times you’ve helped me and my-” Yuri began, but a look on Liliah’s face showed him that even if he wouldn’t be truthful about his injuries, if he respected her, now was not the time to intervene.

“It’s fine Yuri. Thank you for your concern. It’s just work.” She explained as she pulled out of his grasp gently.

With a knowing Nod, Yuri sat back in the treatment chair and waited for the arm to complete its work as Liliah left him alone in the room. She closed the door behind her only to be confronted by her very angry boss. “How many times do I have to say it Varen, How many times! If you keep treating patients off the books, I’m going to fire you. I don’t care if they’re orphans, or whatever, this office does not run on good will, we are not able to treat every bleeding heart that walks through the back door, or however you sneak them in here. I won’t tolerate this again!” He said angrily.

Liliah let the tirade continue as he began talking about the cost, she zoned out, ignoring him for the most part. She had heard the speech a thousand times, probably more, and every time, she had ignored it. He said the same tired lines, again and again, and would only shut up once he had said his piece without letting her speak. She kept her face neutral, humble, and with a subdued expression as she skimmed through her emails using her eyes uplink to the office computer. It had taken her nearly a year to get her systems working well enough to be able to do that, but now it was second nature to simply activate her eyes and access files, databases within the system, and the personnel files. She came across an email that almost made her frown. She began ignoring her boss even more to read it, and her eyes would have given her away if he had been paying attention to her.

“Don’t make me have this conversation with you again Doctor Varen. I would hate to have to let you go. But you aren’t making it easy.” he said angrily to her in his usual, tired, annoying tone.

It was then that something different happened, Liliah didn’t expect it herself, so it was utterly shocking when her patient, Yuri, appeared behind the man, his massive grip coming to rest firmly on the head doctor’s shoulder. He kept his gaze on Liliah as he spoke, and she blinked at him incredulously as he spoke, “I will see you next week Ärztin Varen. I will send any of my brothers that get hurt to you. You are best Krankenhaus in the city. I hope to see you next week.” He said pointedly before he released his grasp on the head doctor’s shoulder. He turned to him smiled, a massive, toothy, dangerous smile, “Ah, Ärztin Pahl, It’s good to see you again, It has been a long time. How is your family?” Yuri asked him with a hint of threat.

---------------------------------------


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Renton
The Gypsy
9.15pm
04/09/2118

It wasn’t her first visit to The Gypsy, and it probably wouldn’t be her last, but it was the first time in a while she was asked. Liliah had barely changed her clothing, her usual slacks and scrubs were rotated for something similar, slacks, a plain t-shirt and simple sneakers, her normally long and astray hair held back loosely in a bun, and the glasses she normally kept pocketed at the clinic were now securely on the bridge of her nose. She was barely something to look at, and very dressed down for her features.

The lighting wasn't much different from what it was outside, so her eyes had little need to adjust, although, her eyes never needed to, the synthetic components within them did the job for her biological parts. The only thing she had on that would be slightly out of place, were her gloves, fingerless, like those of a fighter, but covered in cybernetic wires that to even someone with the barest of knowledge would know were fake augmenting gloves, usually associated with electrocution, or to be more blunt, they were hand held tasers, although fake, and just to be decorative, or scare the more idiotic predators away.

Staying near the edge, she made her way to the bar, she ignored everyone within, barely noticed anyone, she didn’t want to make contact with anyone, the dressing down from her boss had taken all of the wind out of her sails, even if she had ignored it, it was still deflating to be spoken to as badly as he did to her. She finally reached the bar’s edge, and was only slightly surprised to see someone she knew, Amanda was one of her patients, and had been for quite some time. She had started as yet another one of her bosses angry rants, but become one of her very few friends. She had become more than slightly attached to the younger woman, and had even spent time attending her fights.

She was distracted by the other woman’s presence, and the odd coincidence struck her as out of the ordinary, but for the time being she let it go as Tia interrupted her musing, “The usual Lily?” She said in her all to personal way.

“Actually, something a bit different today Tia my dear. Coffee, Black, and damn what I wouldn’t do for a double shot of espresso.” Liliah said, ordering the code.

Tia smiled knowingly, and nodded, “No worries Lily, It’s on the house.” she said as she stepped away to prepare the cup for her.

Without much hesitation, Liliah stepped away from the bar, and slid around to the other side, making her way to Amanda, she had nearly reached her when she noted the large man she was speaking with. Liliah hesitated, looked them both over, resisting the urge to scan them both to take stock of their vitals. Instead she stood several feet away from them, against the bar, awaiting the drink she’d ordered.

A moment later, with drink in hand, and a sly wink from Tia, Liliah moved toward the reserved table, no longer under the pretense that it was a coincidence that Amanda was there. She held the drink low, examining the other two at the table, she took one of the vacant seats almost awkwardly, but with a glance around the table, she would begin trying to draw as to why each of them was there. August she knew of, much of the world knew who he was, but the other woman, she had no clue of. She made a mental note to not react to Amanda, and to keep any relation the two had to herself. She would wait until more cards were upon the table to place any chips in herself.

“Odd party, aren’t we. Nice to drink something nice for a change though I suppose.” She said to the group, placing the first hook into the water, to see what sort of bait she needed to add. It would be plain to the others, that she hadn't taken a drink of hers yet, as it's level was near the brim.

Meredith Brax LoneSniper87 Maj

 

[Meredith]

The Gypsy Maersk Row, Renton 9.32pm 04/09/2118

​

The blonde man at the bar kept an eye on his watch, and another on the door.
Four showed up. A full running team. His mouth twisted into a smile, although he kept it to himself, staring down into his shot of rum. He'd gotten worried there.
Lance Obrien had been in this business for a long time, and although the collapse was unfortunate, it did provide him with a much wider range of talent to choose from.

A medic, a street samurai, Aeron and all her knowledge, and - of course - a man who knows how to talk to keep them out of as much trouble as possible. Starting unnecessary conflict was never profitable in the long run.

He let them sit until the designated meeting time - 9.30 - and as it hit, the start of Happy Hour was called, and the bar devolved into all-out chaos. The scramble to order the first round of the hour was loud, intense, and the mellow bar seemed to hit a switch. This was all strategic, and it amused him; by 11 the bar would be mostly clear of its rowdiest patrons and Tia's hands would get a break. Late nights at the Gypsy are times of quiet (and seemingly confidential) conversation.

He swept out of his chair amidst the crowd swarming the bar, making his way over to the man who had been watching the addicts, Cairo. Lance tapped his shoulder, and the huge man stood, stretching his arms behind his head. One of the best parts of using The Gypsy for business is that you're afforded its bouncer's protection.

Lance makes his way over to the back table carefully, making sure not to step on anyone sitting on the floor, and sits down in the outer-most chair. The bouncer stands behind him, but he turns around to watch the bar, mostly just there as a bodyshield for Lance. You get the impression that he dislikes being watched while on business.
This is the quietest corner of the Gypsy. You can hear each other at slightly above normal speaking volume, but the activity of the bar makes it unlikely that others will hear, excluding the bouncer - who you can only assume is trustworthy.

The blonde man pulls two packages out of his coat. The first is a manilla envelope, and he opens it, passing each of you an identical document. With that, he smiles, all business. "It's nice to formally meet you all. I called you here today to talk about work."
The man has an air of seriousness about him. It doesn't sound like he'll deal well with nonsense.

"Before we sign anything, I'd like you to do a small job for me, a simple one. $400 to split between you for an easy delivery. It'll be a milk run, really." He taps the white package. It's a thick envelope, about four inches packed full, and heavy. "I just need you to bring this to a trusted friend of mine. He lives in apartment 231 on the second floor of the Medford Complex in Concord. This should be an easy job, don't fight with anyone, and come back in one piece. The guy's name is Marvin."

"Keep an eye out for Lone Star, and come back here when you're done. It should only take you an hour or two."
He sits, awaiting questions or concerns, seeming comfortable in this arrangement.

Spoiler: The Contract

This is an agreement between ______________________ (the runner) and Lance Obrien concerning an ongoing working relationship.

The runner will receive:
1. A place to stay with food in the fridge.
2. The opportunity to work with at least two (2) other runners with varied skill sets.
3. Essential supplies for use in the field.

In return, the runner will provide:
1. Either 10% of the profit of a job before it is split between the running team, or a $650 flat rate, which can be decided by the team job-by-job.
2. Transparency concerning outside jobs undertook. This is to ensure the safety of the team.

This agreement can be terminated by either party at anytime.


____________________

You are very aware that documents like these hold no legal sway in this world, but people talk, and most runners prefer to maintain a reputation of reputability.

Citadel's wealthier districts have employed private police forces in the months following the collapse. Concord is one of them. Many of its citizens just missed the cutoff of wealth to be permitted on Mars - it's a place of high-rises, nightlife, and incredible imported food. Minor political figures, successful professional athletes, and other celebrities spend their time trying to forget that they were left behind. The largest policing corp is Lone Star. Others exist, and conflict is brewing between them... Objective: Deliver the Package Before he brings you back to the place that will become your base, Lance wants to make sure that the group of you can work cooperatively. He's sending you on a short job for a trusted friend that should only take your group an hour or two. A milk run, he stresses. The package is to be delivered to apartment 231 on the second floor of the Medford Apartment Complex in the Concord district. You are to bring it directly to a man that answers to Marvin who will be inside. Discretion is appreciated. You are not to open the package. Lance will be awaiting the news of your success at the Gypsy.

 

[Brax]

A woman with darker hair had been the next person to make their way over to the table. Blue hues had made their way from the depths of the half-filled cup to the female, just as she had taken her seat. She mentioned something about the weather, something that prompted August to raise his eyebrows just as the tip of his cup made contact with his lips. He was never one for small talk. When he was younger, it was something he had to do to protect his image. These days, the man spent less time worrying about how he came off. In the end, all he needed to know was that his heart was in the right place.

In all the years that August had found himself in this very bar, not much had changed. It was still as sleezy as he could remember. The clientele that seemed to exist was unchanging. Usual customers tended to be unhappy. Types to complain a lot about their lives yet do nothing to change them. Even though some situations were impossible to overcome, these people never made any real effort to better their existence for their mental health or psyches. They had the same daily routines, most of which brought them right back to that wooden bar to sit on that shitty plastic stool top. August had been in that position once before. Seemingly a lifetime ago.

The next person to join the two was a red-head. She hadn’t said anything upon joining the two. That made the total count of the party three. August wondered if the number would increase, just as a third woman came to take a seat at the table. The man began to feel a distinct lack of testosterone in the balance. She had mentioned something about the party looking odd. This prompted the man to take a gander around one last time. Aside from the gender disparity, he came to the conclusion that he had been part of groups far more odd than this, even at a glance. Still, the woman wasn't completely incorrect in her statement. August had the feeling that things were about to get a lot weirder than the four who had gathered around the table.

Depleting the contents of that Styrofoam cup came with no reward. The coffee was more water than anything else. August himself had made better cups of coffee and he had a hard time figuring out how to use a microwave successfully, let alone brew a cup of coffee that was of any decent quality. The owners of the bar must have been pretty dedicated to nickeling and diming its patrons to that extent. That shit was equivalent to a cup of coffee-flavored water. August could pass out at that table on command despite its intake. Then again, he had never drank a cup of coffee that could stop him from passing out in his exhaustion. Tired was his state of being at all times.

August leaned back into his seat, looking away for what seemed to be only a moment. His attention was ringed in when a man’s voice removed him from his thoughts. So, this was the contractor? Four hundred dollars was not a big cut, but if it led to more money than it was worth taking the time out to complete. Concord wasn’t too far, definitely within walking distance. The man’s eyes moved from the Lance to the envelope as he leaned over to place a hand on it. He removed it from the middle of the table and looked at its bare service. Removing a pen from the inside of his jacket, August wrote the apartment number in the case that he forgot it. Then he slipped it into a pocket present inside of his jacket. With a small smile the man stood from the table.

“Pleasure to meet you in the flesh. We’ll be on our way.” Slipping both hands into his pockets, August whistled to the three girls while he briefly nodded his head towards the door. His feet followed suit as he slunk his way out of the bar.

 

[LoneSniper87]

Amanda Price

The man either didn't see to hear her, or chose not to respond, which made the seating all the more awkward, but she didn't bother to try to push it. She sipped her coffee, glancing around the room. Another person seemed to order a coffee, and then proceed to join them at the table. A slight wince came at the sound of the boots squeaking against each other. She didn't pay much attention to her, save for a slight smile she gave, a pleasantry more than anything. She had gotten halfway into her coffee when a familiar voice stirred her from her thoughts. She glanced to the bar to see an old friend of hers, the good doctor, who probably got yelled at a lot for helping her off the docket, but she greatly appreciated it.

When she approached she didn't say much to the fighter, which was a smart move. Perhaps she did learn a thing or two from her after all these years. After a minute, their contact emerged spoke to them all. It really was a simple job, quite simply don't get caught. The man from before, who she still couldn't shake the feeling of familiarity with, took their item and spoke, proceeding to leave, but she remembered why he was so familiar. "Pretty boy doesn't want to discuss anything with us?" She asked, rising from the table, downing the rest of her coffee before proceeding to follow. "Works for me, then. Let's get to it." She said, glancing back to he two ladies. "Hope your care to join us?"

 

[Kazanna]

Inwardly, Liliah found herself disappointed, but she kept it to herself as much as possible. Glancing at the package as it vanished into Augusts' coat, she hesitated purposely as the man got up and left, before signaling to Amanda her thumb and pinky finger waving near her cheek in that she would call her momentarily if she didn't catch up. More information was needed, a simple email, followed by a very basic set of commands wasn't worth a small sum as four hundred dollars when the economy demanded as such for a daily breath of stale air.

She glanced to the speaker, "Didn't quite catch your name, but it's charming to meet you I'm sure." She said with only a very light hint of sarcasm, "You say don't fight anyone, Would there be anyone to fight? If you contacted us you probably know more about us than you'd be inclined to let on. So to skip that formality, I'd ask simply, how inclined is Lone Star to use lethal force should we be found with that package that just grew a pair of legs topped with blonde hair?" She asked briefly.

It wasn't a stupid question, more of a loaded one, and her ignorance to his name was more of a bluff, she had read the contract nearly instantly and come to the conclusion that's who he was, but confirmations had been key to her entire industry. Everything she had ever done had been based on facts, and details. Not getting those details could kill someone, or cause a bone to become brittle and easily broken to the negative whim of a mechanically enhanced bully as it had been with Yuri. Processing information was important, and the more you had, the less chance you had of getting someone seriously injured, or dead.

"Also, I understand it's to be a Milk Run, but in the event that it's not, do you happen to have a street schematic, building schematic for fall back locals, or a dump point for your little package in case things go entirely south? The last time I heard something so cocksure, I ended up here." Liliah said without tact or reprieve for the finality of the situation.

Meredith Brax LoneSniper87 Maj

 

[Hyped_Taco]

​

For the last few weeks, Jeremy had been working as a damn dog, he was used to receiving a few cases per week, but now they began to flood in like crazy, leaving him without many hours to sleep; but he couldn´t complain too much, as long as business kept going good then maybe he could actually move to a less shitty place in town. After a long night and morning of work, Schmidt was finally able to return to his apartment; feeling like shit due to the lack of sleep, he began preparing himself some coffee, while he waited for his coffee to be finished he decided to check his mail; he found most of what he expected to see, his monthly bills, mail informing him of his debt and… Shit, a mail for work for tonight. Jeremy checked the hour and saw that it was still a few hours away.

He drank his coffee and dropped himself over his sofa, maybe he could kill time by watching TV or some-

--
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¨...Jesus¨ the man said after waking up and seeing his coffee spilling over the floor, well at least he wasn´t ¨that¨ tired now. He then got up from his sofa only to see that it was already night time ¨Oh, fuck!¨ he exclaimed while rushing to check the time ¨9:25¨. He quickly changed his coat due to the previous one having been spilled by some of the coffee as well and with no time to waste on changing anything else, he quickly exited his home and began to run towards the Gypsy.
He finally arrived at the bar at around 9:36 and, stepped inside, he then saw that Tia was working tonight ¨Well well if it ain´t my favorite informant again, how´re you doing tonight?¨ he said while took a seat.

“Oh, hush. I’m as well as always.” The woman gave him a wink, grabbing another cup of coffee from the back, and let her hands hover over the cream and sugar. The bar was busy, but right now, her other patrons could wait. “What do you take? You’d better hurry, I think one of them’s run off already.”

¨I see you´re charming as always,¨ he said while returning the wink; she seemed to grab a cup of coffee so it appeared that she had already been told about the work ¨I would like a coffee, on the house, right?¨ he joked before being told to hurry up since one of his ¨partners¨ had already left ¨Crap… Anything you can tell me about my new boss before I leave?¨

“Absolutely. I’ll even put it in one of those to-go cups for you.” The woman paused as she was asked about Lance. Choosing her words carefully, she glanced over to her bouncer, shielding the man from view. “Lance is a hell of a good runner, and an even better organizer.”

She did as she said she would, handing Jeremy a cup, and waving her hand toward the table. “Go see him, at least, before you go. And the runners that are still talking with him.”

¨Well this Lance guy doesn´t sound half bad; Well, thanks for the help Tia, see´ya around¨ Jeremy said after grabbing his cup and began to walk towards his table. He left around 5 bucks as a small tip on the table, due to the extra information the girl gave him.
The man headed towards the table that the girl pointed him at, he then promptly took a seat and said ¨I ́m Jeremy Schmidt, private investigator, how may I help you sir?¨ he spoke to Lance in a professional manner.

Lance looked up at Jeremy, slightly amused, and gestured for him to sit down. He had been just about to answer Liliah as the man had approached. He showed no sign of annoyance, towards either the questions or the tardiness, though the fact that August had been so eager to get going had surprised him. Just another day.

Interacted: Meredith Tia/Lance

 

[Maj]

​

Aeron was the last to speak up, that was her way. Always observing and learning all she could about those around her. To be honest, she didn’t make a habit of working with others, and Lance’s badly hidden push to see if they could all work together was nothing short of insulting. He knew who she was, the idea that he picked everyone at random was ludicrous. So, unless he was going to be purposefully sending things at them to see how they handled it, this ‘Milk Run’ was barely work for one person. Five people would only gather unwanted attention.

Her eyes narrowed at him as she considered his offer before a tight and controlled smile curved her painted lips. It appeared the others had questions, but Aeron had worked in this field long enough to know that you didn’t ask questions. The less information you had, the less danger you were in. Although to say she wasn’t curious would be a lie. The girl bartering Lance with questions had the right instincts however, and Aeron made a note of it.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Aeron’s voice held that same cool smooth tone as earlier. She dipped her head slightly in a show of thanks, the drink still warm against the palm of her hand. The others could inquire all they wanted, but he had told her enough. Watch out for the Lone Stars, he had warned. It either meant the parcel they carried held something they shouldn’t be transporting, or that someone was going to tip them off to see how well they evaded them. Either way, she had been avoiding police detection since her teenage years, and given such the Lone Stars didn’t scare her.

Aeron left the table, her heeled boots clicking across the floor as she walked away. The sway of her hips was rhythmic as she walked back out the entrance, a half hearted wave given over her shoulder as she went to join the others outside. She took another sip of her coffee and smiled, looking up at the blonde who had left earlier. He had whistled at her to follow, like she was some sort of stray dog. Not the kind of behavior she typically enjoyed, but she recognized a man who liked to get shit done when she saw one. Her grey eyes fluttered over to his and she smirked. It wasn't often she got to work with a face as pretty as her own.

One of the females was also out here, the other two still inside. She supposed that leaving without them wouldn’t bode well. It seemed that Lance was trying his hand at some sort of twisted team building exercise. Aeron supposed she could keep her head low and play along at least till the run was completed. No one expected anything drastic from her after all. She knew little of her party members, but figured Lance wasn’t stupid enough to put a bunch of green people together for the sake of laughs. If that had been the case she wouldn’t be among them.

mentions: Brax Hyped_Taco LoneSniper87 Kazanna

 

[Meredith]

The Gypsy Maersk Row, Renton 9.34pm 04/09/2118

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As Jeremy sat down, Lance addressed Liliah directly, his voice smooth. "Plenty of my jobs provide as much information as this one. Sometimes, it's worth your while to go in unawares, but... not for this price. I understand." His face twisted into a small grimace, and he gave his head a shake, his eyes focusing back on the woman.

"Lone Star will not use lethal force unless they think you're gunning to harm them - or you're caught committing a high-risk crime. Robbery, breaking and entry, murder. Carrying an non-authorized package is none of those things. If you are caught... well, you better be good at thinking on your feet, but try not to fight with them. There's no need for shots to be fired - although I doubt many of you currently have weapons."

He stretched out his arms, cracking the joints in his hands in a seemingly uncharacteristic, almost blasé way. "I personally run this delivery, unarmed and alone, three or four times a month. Street view searching the area should give you enough information. If you prefer - schematics of the apartment building are free to view under the serial number 190983777 on the Sargeheel Corp's website."

Shrugging, he tapped his commlink, implying that everything they would need should be accessible through their own devices. "You're free to take or not take any job I offer you - except this one. It's all I have set up tonight, I'm afraid."

Outside, the streets are quiet, especially seeing as most of the action is taking place either in The Gypsy or at private venues. The subway entrance glows with underground lighting only twenty or thirty feet from the bar. Entrance is free, as it always has been, but the subways are not as well maintained as they once were. The Concord district is not far from here. The subway is open all night, but drifters tend to congregate in its cars, opting to sleep in an unguarded space instead of the many (and often violent) hostels in the area. Most people avoid the metro system at night, but it is much faster than walking - and better lit than any non-major roads. The night air is growing cool despite the bitter heat of the days at this time of year. Mosquitoes are thick, even in the city, but the bites and welts are a part of daily life. Swarms of the bloodsuckers almost seem to glitter in the glow of the neon lights. Some people might call it beautiful.

 

[Kazanna]

As another of the party left the table, Liliah felt the odd feeling that perhaps she was the one who was approaching things wrong. She frowned and with a sigh, she stood up and nodded to Lance. She glanced at the coffee, and bitterly stepped away from it. The information she had been given was enough for her to do the job without much question.

It was something that could be done alone, a group wasn't needed nessecarily, so it was more than likely a setup. The actuality that building schematics for the area around the job were public record was another thing that made her hesitant, it meant anyone that tried to, could get access to the records, and use them to their advantage. Liliah mentally took note of the rest of the information as she glanced to the late arrival, a feeling of pity swiftly vanished as she recalled the sort of business they were more or less undertaking.

She paused at the bars entrance, there was a public data terminal, and she almost considered running the numbers to pull the schematics. "Ping alerts... maybe if one of them is a hacker... but not with the bolt..." she muttered, her fingertips tracing the data port on her neck as she stepped past it.

Queuing her communicator, she sent Amanda a short message, "Got what I could, where did You and blondie get off to?"

She kept it short, trying to keep as much information off grid as possible. If Lance was watching them at all, it would be prudent to stay as professional as possible. She started scanning the street for them, the constant reminder of her limited prosthetics continuously pinging each time she reactively tried to do a deeper sweep, letting her know she was still severely limited to basic use. She didnt even react anymore, knowing that until she could pay to have her limitations removed, she was severely limited.

 

[Hyped_Taco]

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The job that this lance guy had just given Jeremy left him confused, he had stated before that he had done this kind of work before, hell, even he said that most of the times he did not bring a gun with him; Schmidt had a bad feeling about this, but as long as he got paid it would be worth it.

¨Well, In my most sincere opinion I don´t believe you need to hire five people for this job, but you´re the boss¨ Jeremy told Lance while he got up from the table; during his entire career as a Private detective he had had his fair share of dangerous jobs, and this seemingly ¨simple¨ delivery job felt like it could be one of them. After exiting the bar, Jeremy looked around the street to see where his ¨teammates¨ had gone to; after finally seeing them he approached the group and quickly greeted them ¨Sup¨.
Interacted: Meredith Lance