Most times life in the shadows is a bitch, like when a run gets hosed and the drek hits the fan. Holed up in some a fraggin' squat running outta friends and nuyen at about the same pace while that corp you were trying to screw over is hunting you down. Whatever sprawl, in whatever drekhole country, the shadows are the same. Occasionally though, life pays you back for all the bad mojo it puts you through and you get a way out. A second opportunity if you like.

This is the position you find yourselves in. After the end of a bad run you are holed up, trying to avoid the heat, when the call comes in from a contact on your increasingly short list of friends. The conversation goes something like this:

"Hey chummer, I hear you need to skip?"

"Well, I got something for ya. Johnson in Seattle is looking for assets for a run. Word on the street is that he's looking for out-of-town talent because of the fragged up situation in the Emerald City right now."

"What? You ain't seen the news? There's whole lotta drek going on right now, you should check it out."

"Alright, alright. I know you been keeping you head down. Anyway Johnson is offering you a vacation to Seattle if you're interested. The offer is a week in Seattle, all expenses paid, at the Pan Pacific Hotel and flight on the next sub-orbital. Johnson will even supply a burner SIN if you need it to get on the flight."

"No, I ain't got intel on the run. I'm sure it's drek, but Seattle's supposed to be nice this time of year and the Sonics are playing crazy right now. So, you in?"

"Thanks Cherry, sounds perfect."

"Yeah, some hunters sniffin aroun for a 'Taur an I 'match the profile'. Hah, you know it, 'dark hair, short for a troll, bull horns', all us bulls fit that descript."

"Damn straight, any scoops an you're the first rag I-"

"Hey now, you know I mean 'rag' in the most egregious sense."

"Egregious is so a descriptive...  adjective even."

"Ohhh, well both the ancient an the newer meanin at the same time!  Pbbbbbt.  But yeah, your first for anythin I excavate."

"Right, gotta pounce if I'm gonna catch the 'Hound.  Thanks again Cherry."

"Hey chummer, I hear you need to skip?"

"Some drek like zhat."

Tu Bahd kept walking. Head down, body tucked beneath an amalgamation of fabric that made up a cloak. There was nothing she needed more right now than to stand out in The Throat. This particular section of Cairo's slums were notoriously...unkind. She stuck close to the outskirts as she kept on the move, trusting that her call's connection would be less likely to be observed as one of interest on the matrix. She hadn't checked in with her family for hours; they had to know the job went awry. They would be disappointed.

"Well, I got something for ya. Johnson in Seattle is looking for assets for a run. Word on the street is that he's looking for out-of-town talent because of the fragged up situation in the Emerald City right now."

"Vwhat do jy-"

Tu Bahd lowered her voice at the sound of sirens in the background.

"Vwhat do jyou mean? Ze fuck eez..eez zhis some state-side drek?"

"What? You ain't seen the news? There's whole lotta drek going on right now, you should check it out."

"I vwould love to check eet out," Tu Bahd said, "eef I had...say...ze time to do so."

Tu Bahd tucked down in an alley that, for now, was all her own. She was tired, she was hungry, she was low on bullets. Right now, bullets were worth more than a hot meal or cash. Across the street, there was a cab idling as the driver helped a couple of suits step out the back.

"Alright, alright. I know you been keeping you head down."

"Yes." Tu Bahd studied the scene, squinting her eyes. "Something like zhat."

"Anyway Johnson is offering you a vacation to Seattle if you're interested."

She listened as he spoke, already reloading her gun, manually at that. Everything needed to stay as off the grid as possible right now. Especially considering what she thought she would do next.

"Johnson will even supply a burner SIN if you need it to get on the flight."

"Vwell, could use zhat burner as fast as possible, amigo..." *Click* went the clip. "Vwhat is ze int-?"

"No, I ain't got intel on the run. I'm sure it's drek," "Drek eez right." "but Seattle's supposed to be nice this time of year and the Sonics are playing crazy right now. So, you in?"

Tu Bahd cared little for sports right now. Skipping town, skipping countries, would surely earn her family's ire. There were missions still in there queue, and their services were growing with every passing politician. Of course, they would still understand the need for her to get out of her jam; the Inotoba would take even less kindly to Tu Bahd bringing 'bad boyfriends' home with her.

"I'm een." Tu Bahd was already on her toes now, cloak taut about her body with one hand, Baby Girl loaded in the other, "Just get me zhat burner. Now."

Three minutes later, she was driving the cab car, manually at that. The highway was a stretch that circumvented the Throat, Doxxes, and Vileeyes slums that took her closer to the tamer heart of the city. Bloodless bullet holes lined the dash, quickly filled with smoke from what she hoped was a stray cigarette in the cup holder. She knew her moment of reprieve would be short lived; she'd have to dump the car miles away from the airport, but it was better than walking.

He'd said Seattle was nice this time of year. Hopefully it was, she could do with a little less heat in more ways than one.

Mason was busy running a Tag Eraser over a few purchases in his latest bolt hole. His current SIN didn't need to be linked to anything that, while legal, may be put to questionable use. The Merseysprawl dive and the possessions that would fit in a single box and backpack were a significant step down from what he was accustomed to. Since his parting from the company, Mason had heard some of the local idealists rail against the status quo. However, there was a lot to be said for regular, sometimes real food, constant power, a roof that didn't leak and numerous other "luxuries".

Hoping to buy himself some time before having to move on, Mason was preparing to ward the tiny dwelling when an ARO told him there was an incoming voice message from an unknown number. Not exactly uncommon in this profession. An accompanying message claimed that it was Delilah, the elf fixer who'd taken a leap of faith in order to add a full mage to her virtual rolodex. The Fixer got straight to the point, probably still pissed off at not being able to make use of him right now. Like he'd known the warehouse had belonged to a Pyramid Arcane Supplies European subsidiary. "Not a social call. A friend of a friend has work, abroad. With your last stunt, I think it'd be best for you to accept, fast." Another ARO told him another voice message had been sent from the same number. Mason listened to the second message then replied to Delilah via text only I'm in. Help with travel arrangements would be appreciated. He was sure that next time he heard from Delilah, it would be by a different comm-code.

With that, "John Smith" began making arrangements for Mason's operations Gear to be shipped to the Pan-Pacific in Seattle. With any luck, Masons trail would dead-end here.

Xáays is annoyed. He's stuck in this bolt hole and he has mostly himself to blame, which is decidedly bad for his already-bruised ego. The run had been sponsored by Gaeatronics (he thinks) against Aztechnology (he knows). He had infiltrated the black-tie party and slipped away to attach the transmitter to the offline host, as instructed, but the exfiltration was a big mess. "Walking right out the front door" was a bit too obvious in retrospect, which lead to an explosion, a chase, punching some cybernetically guard dogs that were chasing him, the usual. Now he was stuck in this squat that was somewhere in between a jail cell and a halfway house.

He'd been in worse boltholes. There was that week he had spent in a shipping container without light, without electricity, and without Matrix access. THAT was a long week without running water, and only a chemical toilet to keep himself company. He looked a wreck when he emerged, my God. Nevertheless, it was excellent training in the concept of carronasto, which is to say non-motion, or stillness. For a physical creature such as Xáays, ar'laana ("the wait") had been character-building. Or so his father would say.

Xáays current hole doesn't smell good, the water is rusty brown, and the landlord is ugly, but at least it has some daylight and a fluttering Matrix signal that occasionally allows him a bit of entertainment. Tonight's publicly available entertainment is an opera by Mozart, The Marriage of Figaro.

♫ Sotto i pini del boschetto
Ei già il resto capirà
Certo, certo ei capirà
Ei capirà ♫

Not knowing Italian, Xáays has no idea what the two ladies are singing about. Still, it's like some beautiful bird is flapping into his drab little cage and making the walls dissolve away. For the briefest of moments, Xáays feels free.

Right on cue, the call comes in. Thank the spirits it's when he has a decent Matrix signal.

"I do need to skip," he admits to the caller.

"Seattle?" This is a surprise. "I'll go to Seattle."

Xáays has been living in the shadow of Seattle for years. Growing up in Salish-Shidhe, it was always right there, the dirty armpit of a beautiful region. And yet... he was fascinated by it. Seattle was the big leagues. He always thought he could make it there, always assumed he'd break into the Seattle shadowrunning scene eventually. It's just... he always presumed it would be after a big score, a run flawlessly executed, rather than one half-botched. Yet here he was, getting called up to the shadowrunning capital of the world.

"I have seen the news. I know what's going on."

In fact, there had been little else to do but read the news. Xáays is reasonably aware of the players and the playing field. He knows about the Bellevue Poor House club and the Cascade Orks going there to blow off steam. Who could blame them? Orks gonna ork, he thinks to himself. Plus, fighting is good fun.

"A week in the Pan Pacific Hotel sounds wiz. Real wiz. I can even save the Johnson the cost of a suborbital. Flip that into an upgrade, will ya? Or some room service. I could really go for an elaishón," an elven pastry with a strawberry filling and a natural vanilla glaze.

"I'm in."

The sound of sirens was deafening as Glitch’s GMC Bulldog weaved through back alleys barely big enough to squeeze through with trash splattering across its gray paint job. The job was supposed to be a simple personnel acquisition with nabbing the target as he walked to his car in the parking garage. Little did he know it was a set up with the local authorities waiting for him. The one thing that tipped him off before they could close the noose was the one commlink he was able to see running silent in the matrix that had been forgotten to get linked to the security’s deck.

Being set up means they were actively looking for him, and he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t be coming after him the next job he took. He needed to get out of the city tonight and lay low somewhere. That’s when the call came through about a job in Seattle. The Decker had been to Seattle before just not in a long time. The job offered a free fake SIN and a place to stay for a week. At this point, beggars can’t be choosers so he accepted the SIN and started racing for Seattle. The cops needed to be shaken off his trail, so he made his way over to a patch of barrens with a particularly volatile all troll go gang. He hacked into their bikes and drove them into the path of the oncoming police cars where they were then crushed. The go gang did not appreciate this and proceeded to fire upon the cops giving Glitch the distraction he needed to slip away. It would take a full day of driving to get to Seattle but what other choice did he have?

Whether flying half way round the world, driving across country or taking a short hop up the Pacific coastline your journeys are uneventful. For those arriving at Sea-Tac airport you find a driver waiting to transfer you and your luggage to the Pan Pacific Hotel. For Glitch, driving across country you find parking already reserved for you at the hotel.

Checking in also presents no problem for you with the polite elven desk clerk assuring you that all your expenses have been covered and encouraging you to enjoy the facilities of the hotel to the fullest, and to not hesitate to contact the front desk if anything is not to your satisfaction. The bellboy takes your luggage and leads you to the elevator bank, from where you take an elevator to the upper floors of the hotel to an executive suite consisting of a large living area with attached king size bedroom and luxury bathroom. Placing your luggage down and asking if you need assistance in unpacking, the bellboy finally leaves assuring you that all service charges have been addressed and thanking you for your generosity.

Exploring the room you notice that a message has been left for you, a voice only message. The caller is male, with a gruff dwarven voice, who introduces himself as Johnson. He thanks you for responding to his summons and encourages you to enjoy the amenities of the hotel but to limit your trips outside the hotel to social engagements such as sporting events, music events or theatre. He wants you to establish yourselves as worthy visitors to the hotel ahead of the run. He mentions that he will be contacting you again in a few days to go over the run and that a tailor will be calling up to your room shortly to provide you with suitable clothing. Finally he signs off with a brief “have fun.”

As Johnson mentioned, a tailor visits each of you and within a couple of hours you are furnished with 4 or 5 outfits of high class clothing tailored for each of you. These clothes cover a range of events from casual to formal. The tailor tells you they are yours to keep compliments of Mr Johnson. You are then left to explore.

For those who have not lived a high class lifestyle the Pan Pacific Hotel is undoubtedly the finest hotel that you have ever stayed in. The Pan Pacific corporation, an independent corporation that operates a chain of hotels in different cities around the Pacific Rim, pride themselves on the uniqueness of each hotel in their chain. The Pan Pacific Seattle is decorated with hints of emerald green throughout, playing on Seattle’s moniker of the emerald city. You are convinced that in some cases the decoration are real emeralds. The pool and spa are pristine and the hotel offers a wide range of room services. The views from the restaurants of downtown Seattle are magnificent and the rooftop revolving bar is every bit as good as advertised, with a view across the Puget sound.

What are your plans for the next couple of days?

Glitch was certainly surprised at the high class treatment he was getting but tried to keep up appearances of ‘I guess this will have to do’ on the outside to the hotel staff. He didn’t necessarily need to leave the hotel for anything as his main interests were on the matrix on full VR. The Decker took advantage of the spa and the rooftop bar. He interacted with other hotel guests often challenging them to friendly strategy games or making small talk about spirits and Metaplane theory. Every sunrise and sunset, he would summon three task spirits to handle all the mundane activities he would need and be his personal bodyguards in case someone came after him at the hotel. The tailored suits were certainly a plus and very much appreciated.

Tu Bahd was unaccustomed to the excessive lifestyle she was forced to indulge in. Her family probably would have laughed their asses off, humored at the way she drank her drinks, pecked at the meat (real meat) on her plate. But drink and peck she did, as Tu Bahd didn't have to enjoy a single thing; Jan Lethenal did.

"Jan" shoved her ass into those form-fitting dresses without complaint, actually glad her ridiculous wardrobe caught the eyes of all sorts of metahumans. She made sure to take advantage of the spa and bar liberally, even though most of the time, she ordered more drinks than she drank. At one point, that elf she played against amused her; though she was more a woman of tactics, it was some of the most engaging mental exercise she expected to get for the next couple of days.

The Runner never dallied long; she always made herself visible enough to be seen, but not enough to stand out. It helped that she wasn't much of a talker. She was also glad to have gone to see the opera, as no one could fault her for paying more attention to the performance than a quip or conversation. Jan hid her features behind layers of make-up, and did what she could to hide her accent behind years of study of English. American English always did sound abrasive to her, but it at least matched her working personality.

"Have fun, righto boss."

As soon as the tailor leaves the troll runs a scan for active bugs and checks everywhere "possible" (without damaging the suite) for passive recorders.  Glamnarok then headed out, "Social engagements, ho ho, gettin right on it..." to set up a U-Stor-It for the package delivery.  They knew better than to carry some things across international boundaries, I mean, sure, it might be legal, but the paperwork was a nightmare and you know the feds will get their nasty bugs all up in everything.  Of course they'd have fondled Aces and Eights, probably would have drooled on them even, and nobody drools on Glam's prized pair of shotguns.  Well no one but Glamnarok.

So a quick bit of business, then mostly staying in the next two days, listening to various books on tape travelogues about Seattle, some history documentaries, and a restaurant guide by a weirdo chef who eats in the worst places possible.  Punctuated by another quick run to meet the locals Cherry had given Glam an in with, acquire the guns and unpack the tool workshop in the storage room when the package is delivered.  Finally feeling 'properly dressed', Glam actually relaxes the last day, spending time in the rooftop bar watching the city revolve, one eye on the news feeds, occasionally trying to engage the staff in light discussion about current events.

Xáays, as a handsome elf, has spent his fair share of time at upscale hotels and fancy black-tie parties. Even by his lofty standards, the Pan Pacific Hotel is nice. It feels like his environment. His treatment is Right and Proper, as a shadow operative of his caliber.

The tailored clothing is unexpected but, in retrospect, also fitting. Fitting, ha. Xáays spends the morning of the first day at the hotel's gym (jogging, lifting weights, swimming in the pool), then straight to the spa to work out the kinks and blemishes that accumulated in his safehouse jail cell. Once he's been properly pampered, massaged, and fed, his new clothes are ready. Time to explore the hotel and then see the city.

Xáays has had a love/hate fascination with Seattle for a long time, particularly its reputation as the Shadowrunning Capitol of the World. Now that he's here, he doesn't intend to leave any time soon. He spends his time at the hotel studying the other guests, wondering which of them might be his fellow runners. They'd be from other places, like himself. He turns his ear toward accents, looking for people with freshly tailored fashions who might not know how to act in these surroundings.

The afternoon of Day One is for some of the tourist fun. Pike Place Market, the Seattle Art Museum, walking along the waterfront. What do Salish lands look like from Seattle? Beautiful, with blue water in the foreground, green trees on the other side, and white-capped mountains reaching above it all. There's an elven district around the south end of Lake Union where he finds the elaishón that he wanted. In the evening, he has the choice of a Sonics game or the symphony. He opts for the symphony, remembering the comfort of classical music when he had been in the safehouse.

The next day he starts scouting out neighborhoods, looking for where to establish himself after the week in the hotel is up. He's thinking two spots, one high and one low. One for his reputable self, one for his disreputable self, even though the two often blur together. Xáays thinks of himself as a lovable scoundrel; the trick is staying on the right side of the law, even when you are clearly well past that point.

He wants to be centrally located and close to the action; the means near downtown Seattle or maybe Bellevue. Capitol Hill is nice, but awfully close to the Aztechnology Pyramid... Queen Anne? That's an option. Mt Baker could set him up with a nice view of Council Island, a pleasant reminder of home. South Lake Union would make sense, given all the elves. Then there are the options in Bellevue, which has the added benefit of being near the Bellevue Poor House...

Xáays is less interested in Tuesday night Sloppy Soy Wrestling but Friday Night Fights is tempting indeed... The Johnson - a stubby little fellow by the sound of his voice - had asked Xáays to limit his trips outside the hotel and to establish himself as a reputable visitor. He had already done that, had he not? And now could he not - perhaps using one of his other SINs - slip away to the fights to see what the Cascade Orks could do? Xáays didn't want to jeopardize this opportunity, but nor did he want a bitter little halfer to boss him around when there was entertainment to be had within easy reach. Xáays wouldn't participate, oh no ... (well, not this week at least) ... but didn't the Johnson say that sporting events were acceptable? And what was fighting except the ultimate sporting event, the perfect expression of athletic superiority? And the Johnson did say to "have fun"...

Xáays pulls on a Seattle Screamers jersey (his second-favorite team behind the Tir Tornadoes) over his armor vest, slips out of the hotel, changes his identity to Ashkii Dighin, and hails a cab for a ride over the bridge to Bellevue...

Mason boarded the suborbital flight with a sense of unease. Previously his travel arrangements had been made by a faceless person he'd never met, but the fact that person belonged to the same company inspired a degree of trust that was now absent. Being met at Sea-Tac by an equally un-vetted driver presented much the same problem. Things were no better when the mage arrived at the Pan Pacific Hotel.

As he checked in under the SIN provided by the mysterious Johnson, Mason was acutely aware that any activity taken using it could be tracked and profiled. Additionally, it was likely someone was collecting the biometric data linked to the SIN. Despite all of this Mason believed it to be worth the risk to get out of the U.K. Also, he had to admit that he'd missed being able to stop in such hotels on someone else's credstick.

When he reached the room Mason refrained from unpacking. Instead, he opted to literally live out of his suitcase, allowing him to be ready to leave at a moments notice. The brief to live the cover of being a simple visitor to the hotel suited Mason. He started by ordering a sports bag large enough to contain his equipment when it was delivered. Several other purchases for sports clothing were also made for the benefit of anyone tracking his account activity.

Using the clean (he hoped) SIN he acquired before leaving the Merseysprawl, Mason established himself as the tenant of a small Puyallup apartment and owner of a third hand dodge scoot. When he left the hotel to take delivery of the vehicle, the commlink carrying the Pan Pacific SIN was powered down. While Mason doubted it would make a difference to any software that might be used to identify him, the mage had dyed his hair and wore glasses to alter the lines of his face.

On returning to the Pan Pacific Mason went over the room with his bug scanner. He then repeated the process on the clothing provided by Johnson and his purchases, both with the scanner and tag eraser. He took the time to make use of the hotel amenities and visit tourist attractions within the area. However, much to his frustration Mason avoided checking out the local soccer team knowing this might provide a reference point for anyone looking into his habits at a later time.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:21, Thu 29 July 2021.

At this point though you have probably seen each other around the hotel you have not been introduced. As you settle into the hotel for the first few days and get used to your surroundings you notice a lot of hustle and bustle. Even minor investigation reveals that the Pan Pacific Hotel will be hosting the opening reception for the upcoming conference that is likely to resolve the question of Seattle's independence. This reception, conveniently enough, is scheduled for the last evening of your week long stay.

Though asked to stay and establish your presence in the hotel most of you elect to leave from time to time and pursue your own goals. All of these get accomplished without interference. FreeMason rents himself a small Puyallup apartment and makes a few purchases, Xaays has a good time visiting the the sites of Seattle and makes plans for a Friday night visit to the Bellevue Poor House but a message received by all members of the group three days into your stay, on Wednesday, prevents that.

The message is sent to the identity which was used to reserve your stay and is a request from Johnson to each of you requesting that you connect to a meeting on a new secure host that should be available to your commlinks. Connection details are attached to the message and a quick scan of available hosts now reveals a new secure wireless host available alongside the hotel networks.

Glamnarok will make their way back to their room, secure the door, find a nice corner to face the door and balcony entrance, sit down, and log into the host.

Ah. So now is the time.

"Jan Bahd" had been settled comfortably in a hot tub; bubbles, jacuzzi jets, and the smell of saffron were the only things that kept her company as she watched the news. The display hung in the space before her eyes while the bathroom walls were changed to a campy beach setting. The beaches were supposedly Almaza Bay. It seemed this scenery missed the looming buildings in its background, but Jan Bahd wouldn't complain.

Breaking through the illusion was the sliver of her bedroom seen through the partially, purposefully cracked open bathroom door.

She grabs the small subvocal mic from the edge of the tub, the adhesive slipping onto her neck with its powerful adhesive. Her mic was triple-linked backed to the Hermes in the bedroom. Then she reached out over Baby Girl - her belly full of gels - to grab a cigarette and lighter from the small silver case close by. A real cigarette, filterless and french, full of all the things a body needed. Like the ability to relax. As Jan Bahd lit the cigarette, she sank deeper into the water.

A black cloud of unbound hair hung over her head, white clouds about her face as she logged on to the call.

Never has a smile lit her lips.

The woman was either completely confident or inept. Yet one didn't get hired for jobs like these solely on their taste for class.

Xáays grumbles at the timing of the call and turns around. He hadn't really known for sure that there would be Wednesday Night Fights at the Bellevue Poor House, but he's disappointed that he won't get to find out. Even if they weren't organized fights, a good poor house could usually generate its own entertainment...

To add insult to injury, he's wary of the method of the meet. Xáays does not like going into VR. Xáays likes the real world, the physical one where he is graceful and elegant and competent and handsome. The virtual world is one where all of those gifts are negated. He finds the disconnect from one's body to be completely disorienting. It creates a terrible feeling of seasickness which, ironically, he doesn't even feel while he's at sea.

Maybe it's just a call, he thinks hopefully. Or a recorded message, like the gruff dwarven voice that told me to have fun. Can't charm over the comm as well as I can in person, but it's better than being motion sick, right?

Returning the hotel, he goes up the elevator. He strips naked and then sits in the bathtub without any water. It's a precaution in case he does have to go VR and, you know, ends up barfing all over the place.

At the designated time Mason used the provided credentials to access the secure host. Still unwilling to trust his safety to the whims of strangers, he did so from the hotel bar with its multiple exits and relative anonymity. He selected a non-alcoholic beer from the AR menu and opened a second AR window in which to take part in the meeting.

For the moment at least, Mason kept his video feed deactivated. He saw no sense in giving away that particular piece of data without good reason. His earbuds and subvocal microphone should ensure his conversation remained private unless someone was making a determined effort to eavesdrop.

Glitch enjoyed the high life, but came back to reality once the Johnson’s message came through. It didn’t take a whole lot of guessing to figure out why they had come here and why they had to follow his employer’s instructions. The Decker found it actually comforting that the Johnson had already planned and done some of the preparation for them with the SIN and arrangements at the hotel.

This wasn’t his first time going into a host, so he made his preparations of go bag with preprogrammed commands for his drones and the engine warm as he reclined in the driver’s seat. He fired up his Cyberdeck and brought up the AR overlay. Unlike other deckers, he was also an adept and didn’t need to go full VR to use the matrix to its fullest. Some Jazz sat in the center console cup holder in case he needed the boost. His icon was that of a man in a three piece suit with a featureless face that kept glitching like an old tube tv with the bunny ears needed adjusting.

As you jack into the secure host and enable its AR features your visual display is overlaid with the faintly transparent imagery of a corporate boardroom. The virtual image of a table appears before you. At the end of the table a figure sits, it's facial features displaying the video image of a male dwarf in a business suit. His beard and hair are styled neatly and you see a few wisps of grey in his beard. Around the table other figures flicker to life as their respective representatives join the virtual meeting. You recognize these people as other guests in the hotel who you have seen around in the past few days, all except one spot that stays black.

The dwarf speaks in a low, gruff voice that you recognize from the message left on your room voicemail. "Mr FreeMason, I think it would be appropriate that you introduce yourself visually to your teammates. I believe they would appreciate knowing who they will be working with." He waits patiently for FreeMason to turn on his video feed and then continues.

"Thank you for coming to Seattle. I hope you are all enjoying the sights and experiences the city and especially the Pan Pacific Hotel has to offer? It is, however, time now to get down to the business of why you have been brought here." He pauses briefly. "I, obviously, am Johnson. As I would hope you are now aware, Seattle approaches a critical juncture in its existence. Over the course of the next few weeks the governor, Corrine Potter, and her administration will be deciding whether Seattle will continue to be part of UCAS territories, will become independent or will follow some other course. The newsfeeds have been full of almost nothing else but conjecture on this matter for some time, everyone it seems has an opinion."

"You should also be aware, by now, of the upcoming conference where the governor will host the representatives from UCAS and the territories surrounding Seattle, as well as those corporations who maintain significant business interest and investment in Seattle. Obviously their positions will have tremendous weight in the decision Governor Potter makes in regard to the future of the city."

"What I would hope you understand is that the negotiations that go on in public is only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what will be happening during this conference. Everyone of the parties involved will be looking to gain a negotiating advantage over the others, as well as leverage over the governor and the city of Seattle. At the same time they will all be trying to prevent their adversaries from doing the same to themselves. As such I have been approached by a number of interested parties who are looking to recruit talented individuals such as yourselves to obtain the information they are looking for in unobtrusive ways."

"Now I don't play sides, so I've brought you together from around the globe because I want a team that can be valuable to all parties. I'm willing to put you in position as a team to benefit from the largesse of the conference representatives. I'll provide you with invitations and clothes for the opening gala event here at the Pan Pacific in two days time. If you attract the attention of one or more representatives I will provide you with a safehouse in Puyallup as a base of operations and 1,500¥ each for expenses. In return I expect you to rely all information you discover to me, including information on who hired you, what run they had and the outcome. If the results are satisfactory I will continue to market your skills and provide opportunity. If they are not... well, you're in my town and I know a lot of people. Let's just leave it like that."

"Questions?"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:26, Mon 09 Aug 2021.

Is Xáays on camera without a shirt? It's okay, he thinks. I look good without a shirt. But how low does the camera go? Oh well; too late now.

"Yes, question," Xáays says.

He opens his left hand.

"Are you actively marketing us prior to the event? Will it be an open secret who we are and what we do, and we're simply there as the merchandise, so buyers can inspect us before purchase?"

He opens his right hand.

"Or are we sales reps? Are we drumming up business for ourselves and then repaying your hospitality" - a grand gesture with his open hands to his surroundings, not that those are on camera - "with intel?

"Because if we're in your town and you know a lot of people, why are you not at this party yourself?"

Johnson nods. "As I said, I don't play sides. In order to maintain my neutrality I can't be seen to be involved in these events. I have informed interested parties that the resources they are looking for may be represented at this event but that I promise nothing in regard to their willingness to co-operate. Any employment will be upon agreement between you and the faction or factions you choose to represent, including remuneration."

"That said, you see the other side of the coin clearly. I have gone to considerable expense to furnish you with the opportunity to represent yourselves to these factions, and as I said I'm willing to continue to facilitate your activities in this regard with the greatest discretion. In return I expect you to return the favor by sharing any information you uncover with me. Again this information would be treated with discretion and your anominity would be assured."

"I will also say that if you can prove yourselves in this arena I believe that our relationship could become very profitable for all of us."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:54, Mon 09 Aug 2021.

Xáays is reasonably content with the answer. He nods and lounges back in his empty bathtub.

Usually he would be disgruntled at the prospect of ratting out employers, of flipping their information to a third party. But, in this case, it was the price of admission. Did it feel wrong? From a professional etiquette standpoint, yes. But would Xáays pay that price to have a seat at the table? Also yes.

He's been wanting to break into Seattle for years and now he's done it. And, to be sure, there are nuyen signs in his eyes as well. He wholeheartedly agrees that this could be immensely profitable. Bioware doesn't pay for itself... Johnsons do.

Tu Bahd's face only shifted when she pulled on her cigarette. Unlike the one known as FreeMason, she seemed to have no qualms about revealing her face. It probably helped that her confidence stemmed both from being a profession and not being a citizen of this country. There was little reason to believe anyone would recognize her here; if they did, she would have presumed it was because she'd been doing too good of a job.

A hashashin never needed to fear the light, even if their deeds were dark.

Tu Bahd wasn't as spun up on UCAS politics as her family would've liked her to be, but that was what Johnsons and friends were for. Maybe she'd call up Diggs for some information. He'd give her an ass chewing for not calling him sooner after an inevitable sermon on a higher moral calling. However, his street level info might be able to get her a more level view of the situation, and at least an idea as to it affected working civvies and wageslaves alike.

"Zhese factions."

Tu Bahd's words were accented by both sound and smoke. A sweeping motion of her cigarette took in those hypothetical factions.

"Vhat can jyou tell us of zhem? Perhaps zhe...ehm..."

Her brow furrowed, her lips pursed as she took another drag.

"...bee-gest...most enterezting fish in zhe pond."

Tu Bahd's voice held all the warmth and tenderness of a steel stool. She knew this, and wouldn't change it. One could guess she wasn't asking because she was a Face.

Glitch looked at his perspective teammates trying to glean any information he could from their possible personalities or tendencies since they were from other countries. The Decker was certainly interested in paydata gathering. The only concern he had was possible security spiders in the nearby hosts. “I’m sure we will have no issues being able to secure some runs here. I suppose some introductions are in order. Name’s Glitch your friendly neighborhood Decker and Rigger. All about recon and info gathering.”

For the most part the minotuar in the Vashon Island suit tried to lean back and not loom.  Occasionally it looked like they might have a question or something to say while Johnson was speaking, but instead of interrupting they tapped something into a comically ruggized Meta Link burner with the absurdly tiny smartpen it came with.

When the others started in with their questions and comments, they continued to remain silent, taking notes.

In reply to Tu Bahd (msg # 23):

At Tu Bahd's comment Johnson barks a short gruff laugh. "I don't think there's any shortage of interesting big fish at this conference. Perhaps the most interesting, certainly the most surprising, is the invitation to the Sea Dragon. But alongside her you could certainly include Margaret Telestrian, Seattle socialite and member of the Tir Tairngire high council, John Abernathy, ambassador to Seattle for the Salish-Shidhe Council and Takuto Nakagawa, COO of Renraku, Seattle."

The troll leans forward, interest glittering in their eyes, they nod towards Tu, "A most perspicacious question, thank you," and then returns to facing the Johnson, "So, Johnson, you do have a guest list.  If you can forward that to us, we can spend some of the next two days arming ourselves with better information on our prospective marks."

Their voice was not the bass rumble or mumbling around tusks of most Trolls, but crisp and medium tones.  Educated sounding, with an indistinct, Midwest "newcaster" accent.



[Edited for spelling]
This message was last edited by the player at 00:47, Fri 13 Aug 2021.

In reply to Glamnarok (msg # 27):

Johnson frowns. "Not a complete one. All I have is the publicly available list of dignitaries. I'll share it but you should be able to pick it up from any news feed."

A pop up appears in your AR display:

Major Brenda Reed - Ares Macrotechnology
Thomas Miranda - Horizon
Takuto Nakagawa - Renraku
Dewei T'ao - Wuxing (Representing Pacific Prosperity Group)
John Abernathy - Salish-Shidhe Council
Carl Derrick - UCAS
Margaret Telestrian - Tir Tairngire
Sea Dragon

"All the representatives arrive today and are scheduled to be staying for the duration of the conference at the Pan Pacific. It's the main reason I couldn't get you reservations during the conference. You will need to check out of the hotel after the gala."

"A most perspicacious question, thank you,"

Tu Bahd pressed her eyelids tight. "You're vwelcome..."

She squint again, this time with a gently raised eyebrow.

"...G'lahm...narok."

Tu Bahd ran the name across the full breadth of her palate. Good. It had a good "taste".

Even as she saved the AR pop-up for later perusal, Tu Bahd was caught off-guard for a moment by the troll's (a minotaur at that) eloquent use of vocabulary. They didn't make many of them like him back home. It was reassuring to know they possessed a more...refined air.

"As jyou know, my name ez Tu Bahd." Another pull, another roll of smoke across her face. "Security analyzt, fashion conzultant, and fire-arm enthu-zi-azt. I'm also adept at ze discreet removal of user..."

"...errors."

She casually ashes out her cigarette as she adds, "Vwill our accomodazhuns in zhis city provide se-parate rooms? Also...for my dress...I do not vwear lace. Et eez gauche."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Wed 11 Aug 2021.

Johnson huffs at Tu Bahd's question, you realize it's a kind of gruff chuckle. "One point I think you need to understand Ms. Bahd. Luxury dwellings are few and far between in the Puyallup Barrens, and by luxury I mean having more than a couple of rooms. However I'll see what I can do to find somewhere suitable for you and your gear."

Xáays imagines himself circulating at a black tie event, rubbing elbows will so many wealthy and politically important people. His manners are... rudimentary, perhaps, but he cleans up nicely and his natural charms are usually sufficient to carry him along.

When the Johnson sends the list of attendees, Xáays looks it over carefully. If anything, he's surprised that there aren't more representatives of AAAs and even AAs. It also seems a bit odd to him that such a pivotal decision is being made so publicly. There will be backroom discussions and agreements, sure, he would have thought the entire thing would be conducted that way, rather than with galas and other visible fêtes.

"Do we know if Sea Dragon will be attending in metahuman form or, ah, her natural form with the assistance of a translator?"

"That's the confusing part." Johnson muses. "The Sea Dragon has not yet responded. It's not even clear why she was invited in the first place. It's one of the governor's moves that has everyone talking. So in this case your guess is as good as mine. One thing, if she does make an entrance tomorrow you'll be in a prime position to see it."

Xáays still thinks it's odd that this is being done so openly rather than as a fait accompli, but that's neither here nor there. If anything it's better this way as it gives him an opportunity to make some nuyen.

"Where's the best place to meet in person and plan?" he asks. "Does the hotel have conference rooms that are sufficiently secure? Or is it more prudent to meet in one of our rooms, or offsite?"

Mason placed his commlink on the table and reluctantly activated the video feed, listening to what Johnson had to say. Like Glamnarock he was taking copious notes, but using his AR gloves and virtual keyboard.

"That's definitely a big fish." he added sardonically.

To his thinking, Johnson appeared to be holding an audition and getting himself on the radar of the potential new power brokers in town. He accepted the ARO with the details of the attending dignitaries. Editing his copy of the ARO, Mason added a small note that they should figure out what each of them, or their factions, stood to gain from either outcome.

As the conversation moves away from the details of the gala into the planning for the run Johnson asks. "Any more questions for me? If not then I'll see what I can do in terms of finding suitable accommodation for Ms Bahd." He then shares each of your room assignments and you realize that you occupy several rooms at the end of one floor of the hotel. Johnson waits a few moments and if there are no questions he jacks out, shutting down the host as he does so.

Before the host closes, as the dwarf sits back waiting, Glam makes a motion as though holding up a card, the number for the Metalink burner appears.  The minotaur looks at their fellow teammates, "Let's arrange a meeting, in person, in a few hours.  We can work out the deets over IM."

"Agreed," Xáays nods to Glam. He records Glam's Metalink address on his own, and shoots a short message to make the connection.

Xáays is also pleased not to be nauseous from VR, and also not to be meeting immediately. He's still naked in the tub and needs a minute to dress himself.

Once the group link is established, he suggests: <<Let's meet in the middle room to promote privacy. I have a bug scanner we can use to sweep the room, although I'm sure Glitch knows how to use it better than I do.>>

Xáays spends the time practicing with his bug scanner in his own room, mostly trusting in its wireless mode to do the work for him.

Glitch had remained quiet during most of the meeting with the Johnson. The others at the table had asked the important questions and this wasn’t necessarily a negotiation for future payment beyond the 1.5k. His role both on the job and off was to quietly observe until it was time to strike. Before the host was shutdown, he sent his contact information to the other runners. “I’ll make sure the meeting of the minds is private both in the Matrix and meatspace. See you then.”

His AR feed ended leaving him rubbing his eyes and stretching on the bed. He sat up on the bed and sent a mental command to his RCC. Eight wasp-like drones that had been positioned on overlook inside and just outside the room came and flew up his suit sleeves attaching to his arms. The Decker then made his way to the middle room to set up shop. With the other runners’ permission, mini drones would emerge from his sleeves to perch over the ceiling fan in their rooms to keep an eye out during the meeting.

Satisfied that the drones were in place, he sent the code for Cyberdeck for the others to hook up their links to. The bug scanner was then activated which covered the entirety of the room and even into the surrounding rooms. Next up was the white noise generator to scramble any devices he didn’t find with the scanner. Glitch produced three dagger-like objects from hidden pockets inside his suit and laid them on the table. Three spirits manifested with the appearance of being made of millions of lines of Matrix code that picked up the weapons and pressed the button on the handle. The weapons instantly elongated into spears revealing themselves to be Horizon Flying Pilum. The spirits faced outward from the group spears at the ready keeping overwatch on the astral.

Satisfied that the area was now secure from all angles, Glitch sat down at a small conference table and motioned for the others to join him. “Well then. Shall we get started with the planning? Who would like to go first? I’ll be digging up info on the main guests while the plan is being formulated.”The mystic adept then looks off into space, but the others can see his eyes rapidly moving as he sifts through piles of information on his AR from the publicly known tidbits to the more juicy details.

OOC: Rating 6 Bug Scanner and White Noise Generator going. Everyone’s links hooked up to his Renraku Kitsune on silent mode. Three Rating 6 task spirits present. 8 MCT Hornets armed with Narcojet positioned in the middle and adjacent rooms.

Once Tu Bahd bathed and dressed, she outfitted herself with just the right amount of gear, then pulled over the large fur coat that was provided with. It was real fur, of course, but cozy enough for her to never have guessed the difference. Besides, who would want real fur? The metahuman hunter thought this was ironic when her family kept the skulls of particularly proud kills.

She utilized an old AR makeup tutorial to do herself up - something she never cared to master - before piggybacking her own devices into Glitch's commlink. Of course she would give her team member permission to put a drone in her room. It would be foolish not to let the offer go unaccepted. Electronic surveillance tactics was not her forte.

When Tu Bahd stepped into the conference room, she paused to take in the war room like scene. She wore a black-and-white furcoat, maroon chiffon dress with an asymmetrical skirt, and heels in her own skin tone. Her stony mien betrayed no thought as she simply scanned and nodded as she reached up to primp her curls with a pat.

"Well, izn't zis some drek? Knew jyou vwere too good at zhose games."

The hashashin would gather matrix and meatspace were secure. Where can I find one of these deckheads back home?

“Well then. Shall we get started with the planning? Who would like to go first? I’ll be digging up info on the main guests while the plan is being formulated.”

"Hmf," Tu Bahd said around a cigarette, already lighting it as she crossed her legs in a chair opposite the decker. "Vwell, if vwe can speak freely..." She puffed smoke, held the silence. It seemed to be standard they way she held to the quiet spaces between words, a sort of ritualism in the way she did so.

"I can provide protection for...eh..." She squinted, adjusted her glasses, "Guh-litch here, as he does ze decking. And if any of jyou are of ze arcane arts...vwell...I can take jyou under my wing as vwell." It sounded like there was a grin in her tone, but her face remained as neutral as ever. "I can also...eh...see vwhat I can pick up. Per'aps leave some guezts wizh a few...bugs. Vwell, yes. I can try to plant zhem wizh bugs."

She took a drag again, this time her brow crinkled ever so gently. "My only concern iz at zhis gala, I don't know how eazy it vwill be to get my jewelry through ze checkpoint. I work bezt wizh my jewelry, jyou see." It was clear that by jewelry, she meant weapons. She wasn't speaking as freely as she could.

Xáays puts on a suit because why not? He doesn't get to wear a suit while hiding in shipping containers. Or, he could, he supposes... it just wouldn't benefit anybody. It's a nice Synergist Business Line combo - light grey, suitable for the spring - with a little added protection to make sure it doesn't get stained by the occasional acid rain that blows over the area courtesy of Seattle's industrial zones in Redmond and Puyallup. A little spritz of cologne, no jewelry beyond a classy pair of cufflinks. He'll wear his new clothes, the ones that Johnson sponsored, to the gala.

"Xáays," he says, introducing himself to the room. "With an X," he adds, to be helpful.

He's an elf with Amerind features and short black hair. Skinny, as you would expect of a dandelion eater, and obnoxiously handsome, as elves are wont to be. He looks about 25 years old, but so do most elves. He has an athletic build, a firm grip, and smells great.

"No, ah, jewelry at the gala," he reminds Tu Bahd apologetically. "Nor any need, I would imagine. Security will be tighter than a snare drum."

He walks around the room, eyes casually darting here and there. Xáays has a bug scanner but this Glitch fellow looks like he actually knows what he's doing. He leaves Glitch to his work.

"It sounds like we'll be responsible for marketing ourselves," he says. "There may even be the opportunity to select which faction - or factions - we choose to represent. An unusual opportunity, compared to our traditional take-it-or-leave-it circumstances."

He checks his nails casually. His manicure from the spa was still holding up, but it might be wise to get another before the gala.

"Eight primary dignitaries. If possible, we should get a sense of their high-level interests. With luck they will have some public statements on the matter. It would also be helpful to be aware of any biases they might have, especially in terms of metatypes.

"I'm comfortable approaching potential employers on our behalf. Due to racial and/or ethnic affiliations, I might have a foot in door with John Abernathy of the Salish-Shidhe Council, and Margaret Telestrian of Tir Tairngire. Some of my contacts may have insights on their dispositions as well."

He looks around the room.

"Any other obvious entry points?" he asks the team.

Glmanrok had arrived as Glitch finished setting up and politely declined his offer of linking behind his Renrak, "For now I'm running silent, on a run, or when we know one another enough to casually trust..." and then slides into jovial tones followed by an exaggerated wink, "but you haven't even bought me dinner an already tryin to get into my PANs?"

Despite having plenty of headroom, the minotuar still moved cautiously about the space and chose a large, more solid looking chair.  They let their Mortimer of London Greatcoat fall open, the 'concealed' holsters of the roomsweepers plainly visible, and the completely different lines and colour of the Vashon Island "WWII British bomber" suit.  Oddly, with the weapons, the two styles almost seem to go together.  Almost, but yeah, no, the colours and lines.  Again Glam pulled out the tiny over-ruggedized burner and set it aside to take notes on should it be needed.

After Tu and Xáays had spoken, "Sounds good.  Doubt I could work Abernathy any better, unless he has weird quirks, though I could probably work the room adequately.  I find the novelty of a well spoken Troll can draw people in and have them nodding along without even realizing it."  Glam pauses, "I have reached out to a few of my friends in the press pool to see if there is a more complete guest list circulating yet, and I'm trying to find out who among the press might be in attendance.  I doubt I'll have an 'in' there, but we'll at least talk the same lingo of scoop, scoop, scoop.  Of course if I recognize any of them and have dirt, that's a potentially leverageable source.  I doubt the Sea Dragon will show up themselves and no doubt their representative will be revealed at the most dramatically appropriate moment, leaving us scrambling to figure out who they are.  That just leaves the rest of the names on the list, and the only one I recognize immediately is Telestrian."  Glam tips the Metrolink to check the listed names, "If Margaret is anything like the rest of the family, perhaps you'd like to take that one as well, Xá-ays?"

"Yes, Margaret Telestrian," Xáays says, glancing around the room for the reactions of the others to see if he was going crazy or not. "That's what I just said."

Perhaps Glamnarok distract himself with the novelty of a well-spoken troll.

He is well-spoken, Xáays privately admits, although Mortimer of London mixed with The Ace of Clubs?? My god! I don't care if both designs are British!

"Hmm?  Oh, that's probably why I immediately thought you'd be perfect, you said it."  Glam smiles.  "Sorry, a bit distracted, I'm trying to think if there's anyone else it'd be safe to contact for info..."

Glam leans forward, "So, we have the sneaky muscle," nods to Tu Bahd, "a pair of talkers," the gesture takes in themself and Xáays, "I can also fight, I'm no street sam, but I can hold down my end of a bar brawl or firefight.  I suspect you're also sneaky muscle, Xáays, all you small fries are.  Glitch on matrix overwatch, and C-and-C?" Glam tries to aside, to Glitch, "You have a tacnet in there by chance?  'Cause that would be sweet," and then looks to Freemason, "and the silent, ahhh..." tries to glance quickly at the Metalink without making it look like they're checking notes, "...Freemason.  What you are bringing to the table and anything we need to think about that we aren't?"

Mason was the last to arrive at the meeting room, having taken the time to carry out a number of counter surveillance routines. He wore his Actioneer suit and carried his (fake) licenced pistol concealed beneath the jacket. "Sorry. Had to make sure I weren't bringin' in uninvited guests."



The mage thought for a moment before replying. "Well, I've no need for 'jewellery', so I can give cover if things go bad at th' gala. But that means security's probably gonna watch me closer than most others. I've a few tricks that can help wi' intel collection as well."

"And that brings us back around to intel.  I've put out some feelers on the guest list, acquiring a more complete list, and if media will be involved, and Glitch is combing the matrix for info on the guests.  Is there anything more we could be doing on that angle, or have we about covered it?"

"I know some people on that side of the fence. I'll make some calls."

He looks over Mason, eyeing the suit. Actioneer. Nice enough. Not exactly inspired. But there's something to be said for anonymous style. It's not flashy, but sometimes flashy gets you killed.

"Yes," Xáays agrees belated, "you are correct, Glamnarok: I am sneaky muscle, as most of us small fries are." There's a crack of smile that shows his amusement.

"If you're never armed, you're never disarmed."

Glitch stopped momentarily in his matrix search. He had his agent program continue in his stead. “I will not be at the gala. Not because I don’t want to be, but because I have to case this entire building for our competition. I have no doubt that once those doors close it will create a faraday cage as well as a high strength mana barrier. There will surely be more highly armed security outside the gala in other rooms than in the gala. I have to comb this hotel room by room to see what we are dealing with as well as creating backdoors in their security if we should go up against them. There’s also the act of setting up a temporary lodge here to cover our activities from astral recon. It will alert others that there is a mage in the area though.”

"Gettin' hold of the complete guest list wouldn't hurt. Could help us identify any undesirables at the gala. If we can see who talks to who, it might give us a leg up too." Unfortunately, all of Mason's intel sources tended to operate several rungs further down the ladder from where they currently were.

"Which brings us to who will be working where."  Glamnarok picks up the Metalink and begins tapping at it, "Glitch, before you set up a lodge, best check and see that it doesn't violate the hotel's guest agreement, be a shame for security to escort you from the premises right in the middle of the 'first run'.  And, do you think you'll need physical over-watch?  I can't imagine any other teams making a counter-run against you, but that can not be completely discounted."

"Glitch, that seems backwards to me.

"Combing through the hotel - and its security - for people who might be our competition seems like a needle-in-a-haystack approach. If you want to case our competition, it seems to me that the best place to do it would be at the gala, where they will be too.

"Plus, that way you can run overwatch on our devices and our astral selves. If you're snooping then someone else will be too, and we need to be on guard for that. Seems like you should be inside the fence, not outside."

Glitch listens to the responses and nods at certain points. “IF I can get my deck in then I can do overwatch. I have a couple of hidden pockets that could possibly stand up to a pat down. My deck isn’t in my head like some other deckers. I can give it a try and search outside the gala afterwards. I could possibly bring some mini drones in too to plant in certain rooms.”

"No, ah, jewelry at the gala. Nor any need, I would imagine. Security will be tighter than a snare drum."

Tu Bahd smirked. Mirthlessly. If that one thought she didn't know that, that she played by the rules...well, it certainly lowered her faith in his ability to run.

Yet perhaps he was cautious; Tu Bahd presumed he held the skittishly preparatory nature of most Runners she'd encountered. Hopefully they left room for improvisation; it was, after all, the glue that filled the gaps in strategy. At least they were relatively stylish, the lot of them.

---

"You know, zey say ze key to a man's heart is through zere stomach..."

It had been some time since Tu Bahd spoke. Even now her face was glacial, though her legs were now crossed as she leaned back in her seat.

"Per'aps some vwould take kindly to a...demonstration of skillz?" She leaned forward to put out her cigarette. "One of uz coming in as a...eh...kay-teh-rer. For ze meal. Vwould be a 'loud' prezentation of diz-cretion." A small grin, still cold.

"It could help rezolve our 'jewelry' problem, our deck problem, give us a better hand to play..." Her gaze moved from Glitch to Xaáys, hovering for longer than necessary.

Then, she shrugged, tucking her hands across her lap it a gesture that was surprisingly resigned.

"But at ze very least...vwe should get a map. A good vwone. Blueprints, even."

"Possibly... yes.  Hmmm.  We'd need to figure out what caterers are being hired on or if their using only hotel staff, probably the later, and then insert you as a employee who will be scheduled and on duty to serve the event, not a simple task, but not overly complex.  Though waitstaff are just as likely to be thoroughly searched before entering, but if we gain access to their equipment in advance, that does open up our opportunities for smuggling."

Glam waits what seems a few long drawn out minutes (probably only like thirty to forty seconds though) and says, "Okay, so no ideas there, we'll put a pin in it and come back to it later then?  Next order of business, ahhh, well, and this is why I wanted to meet somewhere I was more hundred percent sure Johnson couldn't spy in, but how far do we trust him, and how loyal do we remain.  Like, are we going to hold back any info or are we agreeing completely to his terms, and are we keeping everything in house?"

Glam straighten up a bit and reaches into a jacket pocket, and flips a battered press badge on a lanyard ontot he table, "The last I mean by which I'm a reporter.  Sure, sure, I know, 'but you're a fashion reporter Glam'," the minotaur waves their hands as though dispelling mere trifles, "I'm a reporter and I'm about to be in the gala event of this season, probably this whole frakkin year and several to come.  If Stumpy Johnson thinks I'm not by-lining this event, well...  so... yeah."  Glam pauses, and then continues in a quieter, not quite pleading voice, "Am I by-lining this?"

Glitch shrugs. “I don’t think so. As long as the major objective is being actively worked on, any side benefit is fine with me. As for info to the Johnson, he paid up front for all of this for some out of town runners. We should honor that with his main request. If he found out we were holding back, it would ruin our reputation with other fixers in town which as we know could be a slow death sentence.”

"Yes, dear," Tu Bahd says to Glam, "you are."

Tu Bahd affirms Glitch's insight with a nod. In her own experience, she found individuals were less likely to outright fuck you as much as take advantage of unseen opportunities. Anyone willing to shell out to strangers (talented as they might be) had little reason to double-cross them so easily. There was no matter of trust involved. Just good business sense and health insurance.

"So vwe are vwaiting for a map to plan wwith, contacts to a-ssist us, and a day for our own personal pla-nning. Sounds good."

Glitch nodded to Tu Bahd. “I’ll get to work on finding a blue print of the building. What might help is if we as a group walk the length of each floor to have a general idea of where security is usually posted and a physical overlay of what we walked versus the blueprint to try and find any inconsistencies.”

"I think going as a reporter is excellent cover," Xáays agrees. "And I see no reason not to by-line a fashion piece. Do you have cybereyes? I'm not sure the hosts or the attendees will want cameras there."

Then Xáays addresses the question of the Johnson's payment.

"It's a non-traditional arrangement, to be sure. And I certainly don't like that we found out the price of all this" - he gestures to the hotel room and their new clothes - "only after accepting the gig. From a professional etiquette standpoint, it feels wrong. But it also seems to be the price of admission. Of all the moral trade-offs this job requires, this one is pretty modest."

Xáays slips into his "I'm a successful corper giving a dynamic speech to the annual sales convention" impersonation for his big finale.

"Play the game, build some rep. Once we have some rep in our pockets, we can shop around for different representation. Until then, we pay to play."

"No, I do not have optical enhancements, alas.  I can pick up some recorder contacts to wear, and recording earbuds... hmmm. Maybe.  I'll still bring my gopro, just in case they let it slide."

Glam holds the Metalink at arms length, taps at the screen with the tiny stylus a few times, "Okay, that's it for my notes does anyone else have business to bring up now, before we dole out the tasks and split for the day to work on them?"

Mason's ears pricked up at the mention of Glamnarock being a reporter, fashion or otherwise. He made a mental not to avoid the Minotour's line of sight as much as possible. "Nothin' from me. I think the main thing for now is arrangin' contingencies an' escape routes from the gala."

"Okay, so we have some work to do over the next few days, part of which is figuring out how to get Miss Bahd onto the the caterer's staff and on duty that night."

Glitch looked into the matrix during his searches but paused long enough to add. “I can try to see who is listed on the staff and when the shifts start. Shouldn’t be too hard to get you past electronic security either.”