Running on Empty

[Inspector Valin]

Smiles waves her hands apologetically at the pub's interior as she follows her friend out back. She can't quite suppress a wince at Mis' response to Noah, but stands guard faithfully as she works. Once the troll is back to talking, she beams over at the bar manager. "Told you she's good. Dr. Misericorde, M.D. Accept no substitutes!"

[pfm1995]

The coffee's a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. Vincent snatches the cup from her and takes several long sips, letting the caffeine percolate through him and take the edge off of... well, everything really. By the time he's come up for air, Anna's words have burrowed into his head and made friendly contact with whatever neurons are left.

"SIN got erased. Most of my records too." He waves his hand, passing her an AR window showing his seven different applications, appeals, re-appeals, re-re-appeals, and invective-filled tirades before the SIN bureau flagged his account for harassment. "I haven't been able to get it back - they keep threatening to report me for having a fake SIN in the first place." Idly, he kicks the can to the side. "Haven't been able to sleep either."

He spins and collapses into a chair, motioning for Anna to take the other. "So what's up? Distract me." He takes another gulp of coffee.

[Ascension]

"I'll be sure to put that on my business cards," Misery deadpans in response to the troll's compliment.

She taps one of her AR displays, flipping it around so that her patient can see, if he's got AR active. In case he hasn't, or can't interpret the graph hanging in front of him, she explains, "Good news, you're not dying."

She flips the AR display back to private, and pages over to a different set of controls.

"The next step is making sure you keep the arm. Unless you've got the budget for new chrome. Or you own a clonal tank. Actually, I'm not so good with bioware, forget the clonal tank. Let's just save the arm."

She zooms in on an image of the troll's wound. It's a testament to just how many human bodies she's seen in states of disrepair that she doesn't flinch.

"The weed-eater you lost an argument with did you no favors. I'll see what I can do for you here, but I'd lay low for a while after this. Preferably someplace with clean sheets and IV hookups, but I know beggars can't be choosers."

She pauses to look around the room, meeting everyone's eyes: first the troll, then Noah, and finally Jen, who might need this reminder the most.

"Now everybody hush."

She raises both hands, and the medkit's servos whine in response.

"This is the part where the magic happens. Well, no."

She frowns and looks back at the troll.

"I am obligated to inform you I am not a mage, she is not a mage, and we are not authorized to offer you magical treatment. But... oh, just let me fix you."

Spoiler: OOC and Roll

Show

Okay, this time I am rolling, for First Aid.

I think you can still First Aid after stabilizing someone?

This'll be Logic + First Aid + Medkit, and I'm going to spend a point of Edge to add +5 and ignore my Limit. Barring situational penalties, that means a total of 20 dice, no Limit. The armor he's wearing may halve the final effect of the healing, however?

(20d6)[1][4][6][6][1][4][5][4][1][6][1][5][5][2][3][3][6][1][2][2](68)

This could be overkill.

Current Edge: 4/5

[Jukashi]

Input paused halfway through getting her coat off, then slipped it back on as she watched the bartender root around and dig out the card. Just paper? Even the funeral home she'd been employed with had used ones with a discreet chip full of contact information and delicately-presented suggestions of how to tailor the services to one's budget. A decent mechanic could put together a more simple cutting, embossing and printing setup, she supposed. Well, it was a lead to follow. There was no hint of a tangible reward at the end of it, of course, but there was the slender possibility of someone - or something that used to be someone - who needed her help. A couple more contacts to spread her nets would be useful, in any case.

"I think I can look into this after all, then, thank you," she said, loading up the Seattle MapSoft on her goggles to consider what route she'd take. "Would you mind me leaving my bag in the back?" Aside from her clothes and some toiletries, everything she owned fitted well enough in her coat pockets, so she wouldn't risk much by just leaving it in a corner; but she was poor enough at the moment to be careful even with that. "Hopefully, it'll be little enough that I'll be back again before it gets busy." Though she was always careful to do more than enough little services to justify getting small favours like that in return, she would wait politely for Jesus' assent before ducking into the bar's small kitchen to leave her backpack. Normally she would hunt for leftovers to stuff between a couple of stale soyburger buns for breakfast, but today she'd find a vending machine or street vendor on the way. It felt good just to have somewhere to go.

[Eurus]

Vincent

Anastasia frowns dubiously at Vincent for a minute, like she's waiting for the punchline.

"...You're serious."

She takes a seat in the chair opposite Vince and takes a drink from her own cup, undoubtedly loaded down with creamer and sweetener. Most of the people who come to the shop Anastasia works at are either diehard coffee snobs who'd have a fit at the idea of adulterating it like that or rich enough that they don't think twice about the luxury of splurging on real coffee instead of soykaf, but she most certainly is neither.

"Wow. I don't even know what to say to that."

True to her claim, Anastasia trails off for a minute, trying to figure out how to "distract" him. "Did you hear about that explosion on the highway earlier? The news crawl says that a fuel truck exploded, but people on the boards are saying that they saw KE helicopters before that. It's kind of wild."


Smisery

"Weren't no weed-eater," the troll grunts as Misery does her job. "Some Knight Errant bastard with a fraggin' set of tiger claws got the jump on me."

Noah rubs his face in exasperation, but seems more concerned than upset. "How bad was it, anyway?"

"You hear about that explosion on I-5? That was Tink. Ain't heard from anybody else, yet."

"Christ."

By the time the brief exchange is finished, Misery's fixed all she can. Which is... just about all of it, actually. The wounds are carefully spliced back together, so precisely that the medkit's regrowth-stimulation function has the gashes mended in moments. At that point, it's mostly just a matter of treating him for the blood loss. The troll looks at his treated arm in admiration.

"Damn. You do good work, girl. Woulda felt awfully dumb if I had to get this arm chromed too, when I got the other one chopped off just last year."

Noah looks up at Smiles, whose expression manages to coax a weaker smile out of him in response. "Thanks for showing up so quick. How much does this dumbass owe you two?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Misery takes -2 for the environment she's working in and -2 for the troll's implants, leaving her with six successes. Since sixes explode, I'll just assume she squeezes out one more hit and heals it all.

Input

Jesus nods, of course. He wasn't the type to begrudge Input a bit of time or space, with how helpful she was, but the fact that she was considerate about it helped too. "Yeah, go ahead. I might be out when you get back. I have Karen coming in to man the bar for a while so I can run some errands. But I'll let her know you left your bag here."

The map that winks into view on Input's goggles shows a few different possible routes optimized for public transit, gridcar, bike, or foot, all formulated to account for traffic and avoid any especially bad areas. It's going to be a bit of a hike on foot, especially in this weather, but she could make it there if that's her choice.

[Inspector Valin]

Between the rather awkward reference to 'some Knight Errant bastard' and the realization that they have finally found an actual real life Shadowrunner, Jen is more than a little lost for words. Even at Noah's question, she just shakes her head, gesturing a little limply to Mis. (though managing a smile for her friend) "The going rate's up to Misery, I'm just the driver here. She's the miracle worker."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Should Smiles be rolling negotiate here? Probably. Is she far too distracted for that? Definitely. Mis giving her a swift reminder might help set her back on track though

[Jukashi]

"Thanks, Jesus. I'll see you whenever, then."

After memorizing her route to avoid wearing her patience on ads, she zipped up her coat and was out on the streets again. Even if she'd had the funds, any public transport but the dirt-cheapest was a gamble if you had a fake SIN as crummy as the one Input had been given. The city's traffic was pretty terrible today, anyway, and she needed her daily exercise, so feet it might as well be. She had enough stamina to hustle a little, since she had always made sure to keep herself pretty fit (and thank the gods she had), but there weren't many places a person could move above a brisk walk without causing suspicion, at least if they weren't wearing a tracksuit. Cutting a corner or two on what the map considered bad neighbourhoods would save her a little distance, given that it wasn't peak hours for the usual troublemakers.

[pfm1995]

"I haven't exactly been out of the dorm recently. KSAF should have the story soon, though, and someone, somewhere has trideo of it." He takes a moment to pull up the headlines, a half-dozen screens framing Anastasia's face. "I suppose it's a good day to have nowhere to go. Traffic must be mad."

[Lynam III]

Friedrich welcomes the woman to his own table. He is politely cautious at first, but relaxes after hearing Anthony's name mentioned. "The pleasure is all mine, Frau Brown. Please feel free to call me Friedrich. I was looking forward to the meeting myself."

He smiles slightly at her reaction to the coffee. "If we were in Berlin, I would suggest some genuine Turkish coffee. I haven't been able to find it here in Seattle yet; though I am sure it must be available somewhere."

Friedrich's eyes calmly scan the room to see the reaction of the patrons to their conversation. "Would you like a change of scenery, or should we continue our conversation here? Maybe we can grab something more to your taste on the way?"

[Ascension]

Even Misery seems surprised at how successful her patch job is. Her eyebrow arches as the medkit comes off.

"I take it back. That was magic."

The barkeep's question about cost sends her other eyebrow up to join the first. One of the perks of DocWagon is that the boots on the ground don't have to worry about the billing; corporate handles all of that. First she tries to remember how the cost of a DocWagon payment plan breaks down, and, failing that, eyeballs the disposable supply counter on her medkit. She's just about to quote a price when she remembers the gas in Jen's bike. And labor fits in there somewhere. Does Smiles count as security services?

"Uhh, let me check in real quick with the billing department," she mumbles, hastily firing off a query through Good Doggo!, the (allegedly) non-corp search aggregator she uses for all her somewhat-questionable Matrix searches.

[Avg cost of Seattle street doc visit?]

Spoiler: OOC and Roll

Show

Guess who's got a Specialization in Matrix Search?

Computer (Matrix Search) + Intuition, Limit 3 [Data Processing]
(7d6)[5][6][3][2][2][6][4](28)

[Cespenar]

Vincent gives extra attention to the roads since he had to rely on GridGuide for the most period of life, but he was an apt driver in his youth anyway -- when the early GridGuide equivalents were messy and they had to do most of the driving by their own hands.

Parking the bike one street away from the bar, Vincent walks towards the place, only to notice the sign and the situation in front of it. Stopping near the corner, seemingly not committed to either street, he fakes going through his phone while he keeps an eye on the street patrol. He could talk to the officer and try to defuse the non-situation happening there, but he'd rather not risk it when he didn't even have a fake ID in his hands to save his rear from any possible ID check. So it is probably best to wait the officer out in any case. Or so he thinks.

[Eurus]

Smisery

At first glance, it may seem odd to search for semi-legal medical providers on the Matrix. On the other hand... where else are they going to advertise? A look around finds a wide variety of prices, but it looks like an emergency house call runs at least five hundred.

While she's searching, though, the troll looks increasingly uncomfortable. "Look... I'm dead broke right now, okay? I was broke before this job went tits-up, and I had to hand over my last credstick getting away from the mess. Can I, uh... owe you one?"

Noah looks distinctly displeased by this turn of events, but he does reach for a credstick of his own.


Input

It's remarkable how much more... bland everything looks without AR. The glowing storefront signs and murals, the occasional graffiti tags, the twinkle of traffic lights, all of it's gone. Even the clothes of the pedestrians are more boring without the occasional animated AR overlay. On the other hand, there's also not the omnipresent glare of advertising as just about every single object on the street tries to proclaim where it came from and how you can buy one. Everything's just cool and dim and grey in the cloud-filtered light.

It's not a short walk, but Input's certainly made longer, and nobody gives her trouble on the way. The sun's high in the sky by the time she gets to the garage in the industrial district. The vehicle entrance is shuttered, but there's a door next to it for walk-ins, decorated with a peeling decal of a big-eyed anime girl holding a giant wrench. The customer door is also cracked open slightly, with light visible through the translucent window.


Young Vincent

True to Anastasia's claim, most of the feeds are calling it an accident, although more than a few are fully capitalizing on the ambiguity with "cause not yet confirmed". Complicating matters, there are a lot of trids of the whole mess already flooding the Matrix, most of which are low-quality and several of which seem to actually contradict each other. A few of them definitely feature some suspicious-looking aircraft, though.

While Vincent checks his screens, Anastasia checks her own. After a minute, she finally sighs and stands up. "Look, sorry, but can we talk about how you're apparently an unperson now? I know you don't want to hear it, but I have some friends who have some friends. I might be able to find someone who could do... something?"

"At least air some of the self-pity out of this room, god. I think it's soaking into my clothes."


Friedrich

The combination of a flashy elf and a rather large ork man conversing in this part of town gets some definite sidelong glances from the people in the diner, which Friedrich notices during his glance around, but nobody seems to be making a big deal out of it. Angela grins at the suggestion, and delicately pushes her soykaf aside. A blip from her purse indicates that she sent payment to the diner, covering both her and Friedrich's checks with a healthy tip. "That sounds like a fantastic idea, to be honest."

With effortless confidence, Angela leads the way out of the diner, apparently assuming that Friedrich will follow her. She doesn't seem to have a vehicle around, simply clicking down the sidewalk in her low-heeled pumps. She slows down to let Friedrich walk alongside her - if he does - and glances over at him. "I've only been in the city for a week or so myself, but I had some good recommendations for local places. I haven't found a good Turkish place yet, but there's a spot not far from here that does a solid espresso. I'll treat you."


Old Vincent

Discretion, they say, is the better part of valor. From his position at the corner, Vincent can watch discreetly as the officer rouses the drunk. When the other man rises, Vincent can see that it's a dwarf in a stained brown canvas jacket. The two seem to converse a bit; Vincent can't hear them from this distance, but it seems that they know each other. Finally, the officer leaves, after apparently admonishing the man to get out of here. Which leaves the dwarf wandering away from the bar, straight toward Vincent, although he doesn't seem to be paying much attention. The bar's doorway is now empty.

[Ascension]

"As a baseline for negotiations," Misery says, civil but firm, "I believe you should keep in mind that I remember exactly how I just put you back together..."

She holds up her right hand, and all five of her scalpel blades slide out of her fingers.

"...and it wouldn't be all that hard to take that arm back apart."

She smiles sweetly.

"With that understanding, I think an IOU would be just fine, as long as we can cash it in immediately."

She indicates Smiles with a jerk of her head.

"The two of us would like you to introduce us to your fixer."

She lets her teeth show through her smile.

"Please remember to tell him I'm as skilled as I am cute."

Spoiler: Roll

Show

I have a "Medical" Specialization on Intimidation which I would like to invoke here.

Charisma + Intimidation (Medical), Limit 5 [Social]
(7d6)[5][2][2][4][2][4][2](21)

Is this a smart approach? No. But this is what happens when Smiles isn't doing the talking.

[pfm1995]

"Don't worry, it washes out." Vincent drained the last of his coffee, checking his mail one last time.

Still nothing.

"You know what? Screw it. At this rate, I'll starve before anything gets fixed and it wasn't like I was the model shaikujin anyway. Who should I talk to?"

[Cespenar]

Vincent doesn't strain himself to just be able to listen to the conversation -- it was probably something like "Jim, why are you like this, you gotta clean your act" against "sure Alice, anything for my favorite officer". Or something entirely different.

Regardless, Vincent takes it slow as the dwarf stumbles his way towards him. He raises his head from his commlink, acts as if he has just only seen him, and glances nonchalantly towards the bar.

"Say, buddy," he nods to the dwarf. "Do you know if this place serves any worthwhile whiskey?"

He doesn't put any unnecessary stress on "Whiskey". Either the dwarf was in the know or he wasn't.

[Jukashi]

When she was a SINner, Input had been provided a better class of commlink to use during job hours, and a pair of glasses to go with it - there were a number of specialty AR programs for work with the dead, and a legal requirement for certain recordings to be made for filing. Unfortunately for her, that meant that when she lost her SIN it had gotten confused and shut itself down in an overzealous security measure. Her personal commlink, of course, had gotten stuck in her apartment with the rest of her personal belongings. The old goggles she'd been given weren't too bad - the worn padding was soft and comfortable - but the desire for something that would get rid of the tide of ads defied her normal apathy to luxuries.

She contemplated this as she briefly dipped back into that tide again, sweeping her eyes over the front of the garage for any AR notices. Too many businesses had stopped putting up things like opening hours, "back in" notices, flyers for help and so in any physical form. The door was open, though, and she doubted she was going to walk in on some sort of terribly brazen burglar. She stepped through.

[Inspector Valin]

Smooth, Misery! Way to recover! Smiles coughs, trying to help the hopefully lightening atmosphere with some levity as she grins at their new runner-friend. "You know how hard it is to break into the shadows these days? I swear, no fixer in Seattle returns my calls. It's like they think I'm Knight Errant or something." She has to fight not to make eye contact with Noah at that.

[Lynam III]

Friedrich thinks of objecting to Angela paying for his breakfast, but decides otherwise not to change the flow of the conversation. At least Martha would appreciate the generous tip. "You really shouldn't have, but thanks. Let's head out, then."

Friedrich follows Angela through the streets, walking alongside her. "One week? I guess that makes me the local. I think I know the place you have in mind. An espresso would be perfect."

On the way, he thinks whether he should start talking about the business opportunity, but decides against it. He does not have a sense of the delicacy of the situation, and Angela might not want to talk about it in public.

Friedrich takes care to be aware of their surroundings without drawing attention. He doesn't think anyone would tail them, but some caution never hurts, especially since he doesn't know Angela's background yet.

[Eurus]

Elf Vincent

Anastasia seems caught between relief and smugness when Vincent yields. "Let me make some calls. I'm sure I can figure out something."

She spends a few minutes pacing around the cluttered dorm room after that, absent-mindedly picking up some of the scattered trash as she talks on her com. When she catches herself doing it, she scowls and stops, glaring at Vincent. The process seems to take her longer than she hoped; about half an hour in, she's getting noticeably irritated.

Finally, she ends another call and looks up at Vincent with a slightly brittle smile. "This is a little harder than the trids make it look. I did get a lead, though, or at least a possible one. There's a bar that might have the kind of people you need, and it's not supposed to be too dangerous, if you want to check it out tonight."


Also An Elf Vincent

The dwarf looks like absolute hell, from close up. He reeks of alcohol and misery, his clothes are filthy, and there's a dark bruise on his cheek. The only thing making him stand out from any of the many homeless in Seattle is the fact that he's displaying a SIN from the comlink he presumably has stashed somewhere. Vincent's careful casualness attracts the dwarf's bleary-eyed attention, and it takes a moment for him to focus enough to process what Vincent's just asked. When he does, his expression shifts from "dazed" to "bitter", and he spits something dark on the sidewalk.

"Nothing worthwhile in there, ears."

The dwarf digs around in a pocket, pulling out a battered flask. When he checks it, it's obviously empty. "Fraggin' hell..."


Input

The garage's exterior is surprisingly plain even under AR. There's a much bigger sign, of course, announcing the name of the business, and a flickering sign for hours that indicates the place should be open right now, but nothing in the way of decoration. The door swings open, jangling a metal bell that hangs from the top, and lets Input into a small office/waiting room.

If the outside was bland, the inside is certainly more colorful. The walls of the place look like they were plain white wallpaper once, discolored somewhat by years of smoke and who knows what other forms of chemical abuse. But more unusually, they're covered in pictures of anime characters. Men with swords, ladies with rabbit ears, giant mecha, magical girls, an eclectic-looking mix of characters slapped up on the walls with little apparent rhyme or reason except possibly to fit as many as possible in the space available. The aged and peeling quality that some of them have tips Input off that they're not the conventional AR overlays you'd see most places, but rather enormous stickers of some sort.

Through another open door, the office gives way to the garage. Although the overhead lights are off, a faint blue glow comes from inside. If Input looks inside, she sees a dim silhouette of a woman sitting on a crate in the middle of the room. The woman is quickly recognizable as Mo, and something in the set of her shoulders suggests that she's been sitting here for a while. The light seems to be coming from a glowing screen sitting next to her, although she's not paying attention to it.


Smisery

The troll and Noah both stare at Misery in surprise as she delivers her ultimatum. Noah turns to look at Smiles with a disbelieving expression, while the troll stares at the five blades with a distinctly unsettled expression. Smiles's interjection definitely helps, and the troll suddenly laughs. "Damn. I bet you could, girl."

Noah shakes his head and hands a credstick to Smiles, zapping a hundred nuyen onto it. "Here. A little something for the supplies, at least. You did me a favor showing up, just don't ruin it by killing anyone, will you? I've got to get back to the bar now."

As Noah leaves, the troll nods thoughtfully. "So you two need a fixer, huh? To be honest, I'm getting the hell outta town while I still can. A run that bad, s'a fraggin sign, kid. I've got a friend with a plane out of Seattle tonight, and I'm gonna be on it. But the guy I get jobs from, he's gonna be at another bar tonight. And he's probably gonna be looking for new runners."

The troll fiddles with his AR interface and sends a file to Misery with an address and a com number.

"...If you do go see him, tell him Super's leaving. I'd tell him myself, but I'd probably try to break his fraggin' arms if I see him again."


Friedrich

After a short walk, Angela and Friedrich reach the coffee house in question. It's a small but cozy place, decorated with furniture that could pass for real wood at a glance and heavy with the smell of real coffee. Angela pays for two espressos, and settles down in the more comfortable (and, from the looks of it, more private) atmosphere to get to business.

"I understand you're looking for work, herr Roterstern?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Give me a Perception check, please.

[Inspector Valin]

"Well, I'll imagine he's getting all the takers tonight, if he just send your team into a run that ended up that badly"

Smiles is still smiling, surprise surprise, but there is a touch of acid to it now. While she'd like to believe the best of this unseen fixer, he had been the one responsible for a job gone very much sour. This was the lead they'd been looking for, but... perhaps best to be a little careful. Still, she thanks Noah for the tip, and gives the troll a friendly grin, offering the oversized metahuman her hand to shake. "Safe travels, Mr. Super. Thanks a lot! If you ever feel like coming back to Seattle, be sure to look us up. Any friend of Noah's is a friend of mine."

As Misery is packing up, Smiles has her helmet's DNI engaged, composing a text based message to Noah in her the corner of her vision. [Don't use text to speech, tap it out when you get a moment. Was Super's team new, or experienced?] The bartender's first message didn't line up: he obviously knew the Troll; he'd recognized his teammate's name, and was willing to pay his medical bill. The bit about Super happening to stumble into the arms was a lie: given that it was speech to text, most likely Noah wanted this specific connection kept quiet. Understandable, but whatever knowledge he could provide might be helpful when the time for the meeting with the fixer comes.

[Ascension]

"What a wonderful vote of confidence in this fixer's abilities," Misery deadpans, but she puts her blades away with a waggle of her fingers. At least it is a proverbial foot in the proverbial door of Shadowrunning.

Maybe also a less proverbial foot in the less proverbial lid of her coffin, but eh. Death can find you anywhere. Might as well be doing something interesting when it finds you.

And besides, she realizes with a dark chuckle, she doubts she could afford to be buried in a coffin now, anyway.

Right about then, she also remembers she's right in the middle of a bar's back storeroom. She turns her attention to the crates and boxes around her with some interest.

"Hey, Smiles," she asks Jen, "D'you suppose Noah would mind throwing in a bottle of something as a tip?"

[Jukashi]

An open door to the street and no-one to watch who came in was not the mark of a long-lived business, at least not one running as normal. The card and the decor suggested this was Sherri's place: quite possibly, her and Mo's together, but either way, Sherri must have spent a lot of time here. It was just a loose guess, but the ork had seemed like someone whose presence filled a place. Someone who would have listened to music, or the radio, or talked with someone. The place was quiet. So, Input looked a little further.

Seeing Mo sitting in the darkness, Input felt a quiet, clinical part of her mind open up. After dealing with death for a while, you developed a working space for it in your head; it was very useful, but you couldn't let it run things. People who were in pain didn't usually want to speak to someone who seemed cold or unfeeling, or who treated their situation too casually. Still, it drove her to look around again, proverbially sniffing the air, thinking. Mo had been upset last night. After a call, she had left. That, and her posture, suggested she had been here a long time. Despite that, the screen beside her was still on. Batteries and power systems were incredible these days, but environmental groups had angry shamans, and the corps with the power didn't like spending more money than they had to, so most devices still went to sleep after a while of not being used. If Mo wasn't looking at it, there probably wasn't anything running on it that would keep it awake. So, was she keeping it on to wait for something? A message, maybe? A call? If that was the case, she had probably been alert enough to have heard the bell ring when Input had walked into the door, but she hadn't responded. It was still possible she hadn't heard; or, maybe, she knew that anyone walking in the door wasn't someone she wanted to talk to. Everything Input had heard from Jesus, and what she was watching now, suggested deep distress. Someone missing, feared dead, perhaps? She would need to find out. But delicately.

She pressed the door to the garage further open, slowly pouring more second-hand light into the room. Not saying anything, letting her footsteps and the rustle of her clothes announce her, Input walked in and around in front of the woman in the garage, watching carefully for a reaction. If an explanation was demanded, she was ready to start off simply by saying how Jesus had mentioned that Mo had seemed troubled last night.

[Cespenar]

Vincent gives the dwarf a once-over like he's just only turning on him his full attention. Nodding at his bruise, he comments in a half-joking voice.

"I hope it's not that rowdy a place. I wouldn't want any unnecessary trouble.

"I guess it's not open yet, anyway," he fishes.

Half revolving on his heels, Vincent casually scans the street -- to see if any wiseasses are listening in on them. Then he looks over the dwarf's shoulders at the bar's windows, squinting to see any movement behind them.

[Inspector Valin]

Smiles looks a little like a child being pressed to put her hand in the cookie jar. She coughs. "This isn't really my area, but I don't think the Arms is known for its high class drinks. Noah's running a small business here. Anything worth taking, he'd probably object to." It's the truth, and Love really shouldn't be looking for booze while they're working. Still, Jen doesn't enjoy being the killjoy. She tries to smile, "Hey though, if you want to celebrate, we could use the payment to buy a bottle of something expensive. Chateau Asamando or Eau de Seattle. Order it online, it'll be waiting for us when we get back home tonight. A treat after a hard day's work."

Leaving Mis with that possibility, and waving a final goodbye to Super, Jen heads back outside to her bike. With a smile, she brings her helmet visor down, and inputs the commcode of her second best friend in Seattle. "Hey Vince, it's Jen. How's things? Just heard that the I-5 explosion was a botched shadowrun. Everyone ok?" The question is sincere: Super walking away from that fight raises a worry that the Knight with the tiger claws didn't. But Jen has an ulterior motive here: if anyone was in a position to hear gossip about an incident, it's the dispatchers. Knowing as much as possible about last night's run before meeting the Fixer and their client would put them in the best position to negotiate.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Enter Vincent number 3! Who... rather amazingly is also an elf. Swear to god, I didn't know about the others when I named him that.

[Ascension]

Misery gives Jen a look of disbelief as the ex-cadet walks away. You'd think somewhere in the time they've been friends, Jen's finely trained detective sklls would've given her a clue that expensive bottles of wine with fancy names are the last thing Mis looks for in a drink.

Still, she has to admit Jen is right, even if it's for the wrong reasons. The pub's stock of beers and ales and... whatever else it is that British expatriates drink... is hardly high enough proof to suit her tastes.

"Water, water everywhere..." she complains under her breath, and snorts a laugh.

Since Jen is headed out, she waves a farewell to her latest patient.

"See you later, 'Super.' You keep that arm out of trouble."

[pfm1995]

"Sounds good. Ghost, when did I last go to a bar... Club wear or street wear?" Vincent says, standing up and kicking his laundry pile over. "Also, can I borrow your laundry machine? The school ones all require a student ID, and, well..."

[Lynam III]

Friedrich nods. "That's true, Frau Brown. I am looking for a job that is suitable to my skills. I do not know how much Anthony has told about me; but I am someone who can be relied on in dangerous situations. I have seen my share of action in Berlin."

Spoiler

Show

Physical Limit 9
Perception: (2d6)[1][4](5)

[Eurus]

Smisery

Super grins and nods at Smiles and Misery as he straightens up, bending back slightly to crack his spine. "Yes, doc. And thanks again for the help, you two. If I'm ever back this way, I'll buy you both a drink."

While there are some pretty high-end bottles somewhere, mostly various types of whisky for when someone feels like celebrating, Smiles is right that Noah would almost certainly notice anything valuable vanishing. It's probably for the best that the two leave empty-handed. It takes a minute for Noah to reply, as he's undoubtedly catching up at the bar. But eventually a message blinks onto Smiles's field of vision.

[I didn't ask, but as far as I heard it was a new team assembled from veteran runners. I actually know Super from London. He came here maybe a year ago and linked up with a team that needed some muscle. I don't know who the others are but I guess there was friction, since he always complained about his co-workers. I don't have details though.]

Outside, it's getting a little brighter. The rain's stopped for now, although the clouds are unlikely to fade. It's still early, not even noon yet; for a medical call, this one went pretty quick. The dispatch office shouldn't be too busy right now, so Vince should be able to chat a little, and sure enough he picks up after a few seconds.

"Hey, Jen. Yeah, crazy stuff, huh? Officer Petyr is in intensive care right now, he was in a nasty crash. I can give you the details if you want to send him a card or something. I heard something about one of the HTR commandos getting pretty roughed up too, but they don't really go through my office so I only heard it secondhand. No fatalities that we know of, but a lot of people are going to be taking some medical leave this week."


Input

It takes Mo a few moments to notice the sound of Input approaching. She stirs slowly, as if roused from sleep (in which case she must be impressively good at sleeping while sitting up) or some deep reverie. She looks back over her shoulder without apparent alarm or anxiety, but one of her hands goes to something on her belt, probably a weapon.

Her face looks... pretty awful. Smudged makeup, puffy bags under her eyes. If Input got close enough, she'd surely see that the woman's eyes were red as well. All the signs of distress and fatigue. There's a tense moment before something seems to click in Mo's head, and her expression shifts to recognition. Her voice is soft and dry when she speaks, and she has to cut off halfway through to take a drink from a bottle of water next to her when she breaks into a sudden cough.

"You're... from the bar, right? I'm sorry, I don't remember your name..."


Vincent the Elder

The street seems empty, more or less. Or as close to empty as a street in Seattle ever really gets. The few people going by are sticking to themselves and seem to be focused on getting from point A to point B. The bar's windows are blacked out with something, so it's impossible to see anything through them except that the lights are definitely off. It looks like there's a second floor, possibly living quarters of some kind, but the windows up there are also covered with heavy curtains.

As Vincent surveys the bar more closely, the dwarf seems to give Vincent a closer look as well. He sweeps a gaze up and down the elf, seeming to contemplate something. Suddenly, he snorts.

"...You're looking for someone who can make you a new ID."


Vincent the Younger

Anastasia flicks through invisible screens for a moment and shrugs. "No good pictures on the Matrix, but this sounds like a streetwear kind of place. You should tell me about it when you get back. As long as you don't get shivved or arrested or something."

At the request to use her laundry machine, she rolls her eyes. "Only because I feel sorry for your boyfriend, you hot mess. And if you try to use this as an excuse to crash on my couch, I'm going to figure out some elaborate way to **** with you while you're sleeping."


Friedrich

Friedrich doesn't notice anything unusual in the area as he converses with Angela. The handful of people in the coffee shop seem to be minding their own business, most of them immersed in quiet and serious conversations of their own, and some odd quality to the white noise music that the place is projecting seems to be unusually good at blocking out the chatter of other conversations. She nods at his explanation.

"That's more or less what I've heard. There are people who speak quite highly of your reliability, which means that you're just the sort of person I like to keep track of."

Leaning back slightly in her chair, Angela steeples her fingers and gets to business. "Think of me as a sort of... sponsor. I can't offer you full-time employment, but it's in my best interests to have reliable contacts when I do have work that needs done. To that end, I can help you make the contacts you need and get in with a group."

She rummages through her bag for a moment and pulls out a credstick. "There's a man I know who works as a 'fixer', if you're familiar with the vernacular, who I suspect would be all too happy to have someone like you on board. If you're interested, I can give you an address to meet him tonight. If you don't like what he has to say, you're free to go, of course. The money is for the time you've given me so far; no strings attached."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

The credstick Angela hands over has 500 nuyen loaded.

[pfm1995]

"Thanks. I owe you one- well, several, for all this." He stoops to grab a rucksack and dumps it out onto the table, scattering climbing equipment everywhere. Once it's empty he starts stuffing clothes inside, enough for the meeting plus another two or three days - well, another two or three weeks the way he's been living. Lacking any clean shirts to wear outside, he just pulled on a hoodie and figured it would do. "Lead the way."

[Inspector Valin]

Noah's information wins a grin from Jennifer. [That's all I needed. Thanks! ]

The call to Vince is more sobering, however. Jen frowns at the news of mass injury, ["Lord... Yes, please, throw me Petyr's details. I'll try and pay him a visit later: I'm out and about today, but should be able to make time. If someone starts a whipround, can you forward me the link? I'm not sure everyone has my new commcode yet."]

She knows they don't: it'd be better for a good portion of Knight Errant to start forgetting Jennifer Dew right about now. She's made sure those who matter to her have the new number, that's it. People like Vince. Jen sighs before continuing, imagining the dispatcher right there next to her. It's as if they're down at the Big Rhino, nursing drinks and gossiping about the day. "What were they even trying to hit? Brackhaven Investments? The Wuxing Skytower? What sort of botched Shadowrun goes bad enough to take out the Interstate?"