Upper Marina
Night City
7 July 2045
2247 HRS

"And I want a unicorn," Black Jasper says, shaking his head. "Maybe a pretty pink one.  But, like your request, It. Is. Not. Going. To. Fucking. Happen."

Monica Del Rey sits back and swirls her scotch.  The jazz band continues to pump out variations on a John Coltrane theme that she doesn't enjoy so much as she likes watching the Fixer squirm when the saxophone plays.  Try to squeeze Karma will he?  Well Karma, as they say, is a bitch.  She simply smiles and waits for the fish on the hook to realize he's been caught.

"You want intel on Ziggurat, fine.  I've got people who owe me.  But Netwatch?  Are you high?"

"Nah," L.Seth, the Fixer's muscle cackles from behind him. "She's just another one on the list who has your balls in a vice."

"I'm so happy I pay you," Black Jasper says looking over his shoulder with a tone somewhere between total exasperation and actual friendship.  Jasper sighs theatrically and Monica knows she has him.  "What, exactly, are you looking for?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:58, Sat 24 Apr 2021.

The scotch burns nicely going down.  Smokey.  Peaty.  Once in the way-back, Monica heard that you could actually but a piece of Scotland, a square foot, from on of these Scotch distilleries.  Nice little advertising scam, that.  She wonders briefly as the liquid cruises across her tongue whether they knew then that the island would be underwater.

Probably not, she concludes.  It would be more impressive if they did.

"Jasper," Monica purrs, "If I wanted your balls, I wouldn't put them in a vice.  I'd keep them in my purse with the rest of the men who thought they could play me."

L.Seth cackles while Jasper shifts uncomfortably.  "I didn't play you.  We've been through this."  Monica knows this is true.  Monica doesn't care that this is true. "Don't put that shit out there."

"You say statistical anomaly, I say tomato." She sets the now empty glass on the table hard enough to make a clink audible above the jazz just as another sax solo brings a smile to her lips.  "Let's work the whole thing out."

Jasper leans forward, wrists on his knees, untouched Scotch in his hands.  He needs to drink it before the single perfect ice cube melts.  Otherwise all that peaty goodness will be gone for nothing.  "Just get on with it."

"There's a data center at Hendrix and Joplin," she says, trying not to wince at the very idea of naming streets after long dead musicians that can't hold a candle to Coltrane.

"Yeah.  I know it."

"Netwatch is siphoning the traffic that goes through."

"I am shocked and appalled by this unforeseen turn of events."

"You will get me the name and location of the Netrunner that monitors the station between 0200-0400 hours on Friday nights."

"I'm back to the unicorn."

"I'm not wanting.  I'm telling."

Jasper drinks the two finger pour in one long pull, desecrating the endangered liquid.  He tosses the glass over his shoulder without a glance for L.Seth to pull out of the air. The solo doesn't miss a beat, sped up reflexes making the task trivial.  He puts the glass down on the tray of a passing waitress so subtly she doesn't even notice it's arrival.  Or that he switched it for a glass of some unknown clear fluid.

"I'll get you the damn data.  But we're more than square.  You owe me for this."

"This, Black Jasper," Monica smiles, "is what they call friendship."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:55, Sat 24 Apr 2021.