The Salaryman was not a gun toting psycho ready to go aggro on anyone and anything.  If anything she seemed highly reluctant to fight and willing to let those more demonstrably adept at such things do what they were good at while she herself did her best to keep out of the way.

Still, it was not out of some sort of soft hearted nature, or an unwillingness to get her hands dirty.  Her outlook on things was much too stark for such sentiments, too black and red.

Therefore it was probably not very helpful when she offered up her sentiments to Prodigy in the vulnerable sort of state she was confessing to be in.  "It might be useful to remember that everything must balance.  What is bought must be paid for, what is sold, must be collected on."  The Salaryman said.  You can not create something from nothing, and you can not always purchase as much of a something as you might want, which can mean not everyone gets as much as they would like.  It might help to think of life as one such commodity, and to break your recent experience into a simple series of transactions."

Her attention then shifted to the man who sat down.  She listened to what he said and gave him a nod.  "I do not think we have heard from her either since we last saw her.  She did not mention any arrangements for what she gave you to me, but she might have to someone else."

When the food is dropped off he answered the waitress' wink with a smile and then watched her walk back to the bar with an appraising eye.  He smirked and gave a short quiet laugh when she got back to her friend at the bar and then nodded approvingly.  Her friend might not look like much but he seemed be doing just fine despite it.  Quietly to himself he wished them the best of luck.

He then gave Prodigy a look, and then shook his head and looked at some thing else.

Even with the minor visual distraction Gargoyle was still paying attention to the women at his table and what they were saying.  Poping a fry in his mouth he shrugged and nodded along with Salaryman's sentiments on the economics of life and death.  "I think that's a li'l colder than I'd put it, but survival isn't always about feelings."  He looked back at Prodigy, "it's about being able do the math and making it work while the world is raining shit on you.  And in that regard you did just fine.  You got us out.  And those cranked up boosters you killed were perfectly fine with the idea turning us into chunky salsa.  You saved more people than you killed from that shit show today.  Put that on the scale and that matters."

He popped another fry in his mouth and then unzipped his armor jacket and hoodie, peeling the two garments off as one and hanging them on the back of his chair.  That pretty much left him wearing a light gray tank top and a few easily visible tattoos.  Gargoyle may not be a muscle-headed gang banger but he was certainly fit.

A glance or two told Quick that he was paying attention, but he hadn't said anything that made him more interested in the man than Cyntherea's name.  Instead he focused on his burger and got in a few bites in while letting Salaryman do the talking.

The fries weren't soy, which wasn't a surprise. Potatoes were just as cheap, and while they may not have a shelf life like what a little water and a plastic package could give soy, some creds could be saved by shipping the potatoes quickly and avoiding paying for the extra processing. It was the kind of stuff you learned growing up in an arco.

The burger wasn't soy either, which was a surprise. Sure, it was a clone of a clone of some bio-spliced meat that had been chemically enhanced to taste like beef, but when Quick bit down into the juicy goodness, he could taste the char on his tongue. His taste buds approved.

The Soviet beer tasted like roasted wheat and gunpowder. It went down smooth with a strong, lingering aftertaste. Something about the aroma reminded Quick of methedrine. It was like the echo of a memory of a flashback.

"I am guessing combat zombies," Quick said, keeping his voice low enough not to broadcast past the two tables. "Dead Boys always wanna weaponize the local filth. Either by sticking an electrode in their brain, or some chemical concoction. What I got ain't electronic, and that's not my specialty. Though I haven't analyzed it yet. Thought I should talk to you nice choomies first. Cy, she patched me up once after a nasty run in with some Blood Razors. I would like to do good by her."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:00, Mon 11 Nov 2019.

She managed to give both TheSalaryMan and Gargoyle a genuine smile. She still shook a bit, but the smile was enough to show that their words made an impact.

Then she looked towards this...Quick. He'd said a couple things that caught her ear. She would cock her head to the side a moment, before writing him a note. --Are you talking about some vials she grabbed while we were stuck in that building?--

Quick nodded at The SalaryMan's words. Noticing the scribe board, he nodded to Prodigy as well. "She didn't mention any building. Or make a peep about your last run. But yeah, that is what she gave me."

Quick looked around at everyone gathered, his eyes rested on Gargoyle. His was the name Cytherea had given, and Quick suspected that these were his crew. Cytherea must have been edgerunning with them. Quick wasn't sure how tight the crew was though.

"For now, it looks like you hit the lottery. I can hand them over as is, or I can see about analyzing them for their little secrets."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:51, Wed 13 Nov 2019.

"We'll not be able to put an accurate valuation on them without actually knowing what, exactly, these assets are."  The Salaryman noted.

--We didn't run together. We were all taken at the same time to the same place against our wishes and I lead them all out. Was not a good situation.-- Wait, this 16 year old girl lead a bunch of possibly seasoned runners out of a bad situation?

--Anyway. I agree with Salary Man. We need to know what that stuff is before we decide how to deal with it.-- She also wrote, in another paragraph.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Thu 14 Nov 2019.

As the four of you speak among yourselves, one of the occupants of the table next to you stands up, walks over to you and hands Gargoyle his phone


"Yo, chom... it's for you. Hand it back when you finished,'kay?"

His attention shifts to the rest of you as he sizes up his options on getting his phone back...

Apparently he was hungry as he didn't stop to breathe between bites into his burger.  While Quick seemed to appreciate the food when he got his, right now it was just fuel to Gargoyle.

When the 'choombata' from the next table came over and held out his own phone, he set down the remaining third of his burger and grabbed a napkin or two to wipe his hands off.  He eyed the stranger for a moment taking in his appearance, and then shrugged and took the phone giving the guy a nod.

After making a quick gesture to his 'crew' to keep the chatter down he answered the Johnson on the other end of the line, "I'm listening."


OOC:
18:14, Today: Gargoyle rolled 23 using 1d10+15, rerolling max with rolls of 8.  Checkin' out the 'choombata.'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:17, Sat 16 Nov 2019.

The Choombata had a feline make over, twitching tail and whiskers and all... But other than that he seemed pretty annoyed that he whomever wanted you on the phone and not him...


As you respond, the voice on the other hand began to speak slowly. Their voice androgynous with an English accent that was far too practiced...

"Say nothing, only listen. When I ask for an answer you say Yes or No, nothing more. Warehouse 214, Wellborn Street. West 31st Street. If you desire employment be there at 2 AM. The work is dangerous but rewarding and brief. Shall I expect you?"

Quick leaned back and took a long gulp of his Soviet brewski. He flexed his shoulders in a relaxed gesture. "Sure, I can scan the stuff. I got the E-Quip for it. I'd need some time in a private room. Or I can take it back to my place in the Zone and do the duty."

Quick let the others think about it. Meanwhile, he watched as the Kitten Kind approached with the phone. That reminded Quick that he was currently without cell service. Some chromer had jacked his phone and Quick was waiting on a few more Euro before getting a new hookup.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:09, Tue 19 Nov 2019.

Gargoyle looked at the motley crew of misfits in his company and then visibly shrugged answering the caller, "yes."  After which he waited to see if the line would go dead or if there was more to be heard.  He didn't know what anyone else potentially had in mind, but this fixer needed some action to put cash back in his pocket.


OOC:
19:37, Today: Gargoyle rolled 24 using 1d10+15, rerolling max with rolls of 9.  Awareness/Notice on the caller and his background noise.
I'm leaning hard in that Awareness/Notice crutch of mine.
But there are worse crutch skills to have.

A figure enters the Battallion and stops just inside it's doors.  He is a black male, somewhere in his early twenties you would guess, wearing a variation on a suit, far from anything that might be considered "classical".  He eyes the room briefly before moving towards the bar, his medium frame gliding easily past tables, chairs, and other patrons.  One might think he is going to get himself a drink, but there is the slightest of nods towards Barrage, then this man makes a detour to one of the tables where a group sits eating, discussing, and having phone conversations.

This man looks at each face in turn, seems to consider something for a moment and, when he is apparently satisfied, nods, then deigns to speak.  "I hear from a 'liable source, that you's Cho's 'ave 'ad some sorta trouble recent.  Wakin' up where you shouldn't, findin' all sotrt'sa random info, then 'scapin' outta some ware'ouse.   My 'liable source says you's might wanna find out wot 'appened and why.  Same source tells me I could maybe be of some 'elp," he says in a voice (with an accent you cannot quite yet place) that carries no further than the table you all are sat at.

Before any can answer, however, he continues.  "Sure me source says there'd be more of you's, but there's no denyin' it's you's alright," he finishes with a small shrug, and waits for a reply.  His gaze briefly stopped on Quick, as if he was deciding something, but it didn't linger, simply moved on.

Barrage looks up from Overrider to the guy that just walked in, nodded slightly as his attention turned back to Overrider "Haven't seen her in a few days. Might haps a Badge got her. Might talk to Mouse over there see if he's got any knowledge for a doc. Might cost ya though." he points to a small man sitting at the edge of the bar. You know him as a regular fixer who seems to have a few connections.



As you answer you here an audible click as the line goes dead.


That cat standing a couple feet back, closer to his table watches Gargoyle with interest as he waits to see if his phone is returned. You can see a bit of trepidation in his twitches as he seems scared. His eyes dart to the new man who approached the table and he quickly sits down.

Prodigy knocked on the table lightly to get Gargoyle's attention, then looked at him and shrugged as if to ask him what the call was about.

The Salaryman waited for Gargoyle to complete the call.  It was brief.  No room for negotiation, so perhaps an offer generous to not require it, or conditioned in a way to make refusal not really an option.

She hoped for the former.  There'd been too much of the latter lately for her tastes.

When the new gentleman approached she looked up at him and gave him a moment of study.  If she drew a conclusion based on her observation it didn't show in her expression.

Once Gargoyle had handed back the phone and the cat had left, she gave the stranger a nod.

"Your source may be right."

"'Bout which part?" came the immediate response, not harsh or challenging, simply matter of fact.  Although he already knew the answer (he'd been told, after all), still, it was good to hear things confirmed.  In a world where information was increasingly slippery and controlled, knowing you actually knew something was worth a lot, in and of itself.

Overrider picks up the Armlite 44 and moves over to the fixer.  Mouse.  I find myself in need of a medic.  What is the going rate?

In reply to Overrider (msg # 41):

Mouse looks up to overrider as he finishes his drink, a sly smile crosses his face "Being you work here, i'll only charge you a 50 euro's finder fee. Over on 5th is a Ripper, discreet, he'll charge you like 200 Euro's for a quick patch up. If you want the good drugs, he's got those too, but that'll cost extra. Supply on the street is a bit low."

"Both, probably."  The Salaryman answered Chi.

Chi gave a small nod as an initial response to the answer, then grabbed a nearby chair and sat himself in it.  "Well, 'sumin' that probs is a full fledge 'yes', I think I'll intraduce meself.  Name's Chi, though you's can call me Chilli," he said by way of introduction, and at that, any one taking a proper look would notice that there are little ice designs on his clothing.  Nothing ostentatious, just small patterns that blend in well with whatever he is wearing.

Prodigy looked between SalaryMan and Chi, she would give him a critical look when he sat at her table. More and more people were coming to her table. Some invited, some not. Finally she just gave a sigh, shook her head, and looked towards Gargoyle. As she waited for Gargoyle's response, she would still watch this 'Chi' critically.

After the phone connection was cut, Gargoyle seemed to contemplate the object in hand that had interrupted his meal for a few moments.

Before he answered any questions, he got up out of his chair and walked the phone back over to the cat at the other table.  He set it down, where it could easily be collected and gave the exotic a polite nod, "sorry choom', I guess Johnny didn't have my number."

Returning to the groups table he sat down and took another bite of what was left of his burger.  "Work," he finally answered those with the questions and then he took a swig of his smash.  "Late night meet and greet with a Johnny to see what's what.  Usual cloak and dagger bullshit."

Gargoyle was starting to appreciate Salaryman's brevity with the new faces.  It seemed to him that she was perfectly capable of talking shop without talking shop.  It also told him that she was very likely the sort that can keep to the talking points and probably wouldn't bullshit someone she trusted or was working with.

Making his social assessments to himself, from the outside it looked like he was just watching the play-by-play of the bar.  And he was watching most everyone he could see, even outside of their little growing band of misfits.  People watching some call it.

Even keeping quiet, he gave Chi a polite nod when he introduced himself.  And occasionally his eyes wandered back to the tart passing time as the bar's waitress.  He was a little particular about mixing business and pleasure, unless pleasure was the business, and right now his food was his pleasure.  So instead of jumping right into saying every thought he wanted to share, he went right back to cleaning his plate.

Syren steps inside the door..stopping..taking a moment to just look around, letting his eyes adapt, old habits dieing hard and he almost smiles to himself since they no longer need to, scoping out the clientele, the atmosphere, even the bar itself, taking a quick breath and letting it out slowly, making his way to the bar. Finding a space, he waits..not setting his amp down yet, his guard up, having been jumped from behind before and not in the mood to have to go thru it again as he waits to see if his limited fame has preceded him.

The Salaryman considered Gargoyle's statement for a moment, then the people around.  Finally she decided to wait until he was finished with his meal when he would likely share more details.  It might be impolite to press the issue otherwise, and time was not a significant expense at the moment.