Beneath the neon reflections of the rainy streets of Seattle, Duck sits in the back room of his comic shop, at a table normally reserved for eager card gamers, the store is closed. Duck has called in his ritual group, non-caster included, to his humble establishment for a lead on some work. “Yes, we’re traveling. I promise you we’ll stay in civilization though.” He claimed.

He sits there quietly, smoking an honest imported cigarette, and entertains himself with a few card tricks. While he waits for his crew to show up at Crane’s Comics, formerly Balton’s Books.

The nice thing about being in the Orc Undergound was that it kept you out of the acid rain.  On the other hand, the nastiness that the water picked up as it trickled through cracks in the concrete, leaked from pipes, and otherwise made its way through the porous upper layers of Seattle into its darker subterranean parts were probably worse.

Jonas sat on a small pile of bricks in an alley that, on his arrival, had been dry.  Was still dry, in fact, because the slow drips that had become rivulets and eventually a small stream was raining steadily down on his hat and his back and not the bricks that were digging into his hoop.  Despite the discomfort, he remained motionless, partly slumped against the wall, playing the role of the blissed-out chipper as his 'blank' eyes stayed focused on the approach to the comic store.

His illusion would be convincing to most, and he'd deliberately picked an area with recent blood-stains with the assumption that the trauma would carry with it a bit of mana static to help protect against astral inspection.  Orc street-kid.  17, going on 50, lucky to make it to 18.  Both tusks broken, stains hard to distinguish from patches in his clothes.

As he watched, he considered the opportunity.  Travelling would be ok.  Nuyen would definitely be ok.  But first, he wanted to have a sense of who else was involved - and to satisfy his general paranoia that this wasn't a setup.

The time since the group's last run had been challenging. They hadn't really made any nuyen from their disaster in the rainforest, so scraping by had become a bit of a necessity. So a new job was a godsend. Despite the challenges though, Caduceus had still managed to develop a few new tricks. His magic had begun manifesting in new and interesting ways. Their time in the rainforest had been horrifying to be sure, but the purity of the world around them in the jungle... Well, Caduceus felt closer to his totem, Snake, than ever before. He felt like he was now viewing an old friend from a whole new perspective.

And speaking of old friends, "So Duck, where is it that we are traveling to, exactly? Care to spill the beans? Or are you going to hold off for dramatic effect? You going to tell us we get to exterminate an infestation of wyrd mantises, but it's okay because it's at the funhouse down on the pier?" Caduceus had a sly grin, making it obvious he was just giving White Duck a hard time. He hadn't seen the guy for a while and wanted to make sure Duck didn't start acting too much like a Johnson.

Duck grinned as Cadeuces walked in.

 “Nah, unless you count the CAS as an exotic locale. Work’s taking me back home. Ever been out to NOLA, Cad?” He asked, puffing on his usual real cigarette, flicking one across the room as he finishes and lighting another one up before the smoke from the last one had cleared. He got up and checked outside the shop.

“Hell, maybe we shoulda started with this one. Our cadre of mage-types is looking a tad smaller.”

The rain made her think back to the rain forest.  The rain forest reminded her of helplessness as her skills of setting things on fire weren't at all useful.  But, nuyen is nuyen and if she wanted to be better off, working the streets wasn't going to do it.  Working the Johnsons of this world was and White Duck said he had a job.  And it was more travel.  Excitement abounds.

She enters Duck's shop and tries to sound cheerful when she says "So, I'm assuming this is the greatest job ever and we're all going to be rich when we finish walking an old lady across the street, right?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:01, Mon 15 May 2023.

Jonas waited about 10 minutes after the last person had entered the 'closed' store before standing up, stretching, and massaging a couple of pressure points on his hoop before making his way into the store.  He let his illusion drop when the front door closed behind him, before Duck could ask him to take his business elsewhere.

With the illusion gone, he looked much more respectable, though there was a slight whiff of odor from the water that had been dripping on him for the last 45 minutes.

He quickly scanned the others in the room, picking up what details he could that hadn't been obvious from his vantage point watching the door.  He nods briefly at White Duck before announcing quietly to no one in particular "Darksoul"

"Caduceus," replied Caduceus to Darksoul's introduction. He eyed the man appraisingly, but made a point not to stare. Must be one of the newer members.

Getting back to White Duck's information, he replied, "I am also curious what there is for us in the CAS. Must be good if we are going so far right after our last international fiasco." Caduceus purposefully avoided answering White Duck's question about his travel history. Firstly, because White Duck already knew Caduceus had been outside of the NOLA, and secondly, because Caduceus didn't like to share too much history about himself. Especially if it could potentially come back to bite him. He could probably be convinced to give White Duck or Kate more details, eventually, but he didn't know enough about this new Darksoul guy to trust him that much yet. Darksoul's name certainly wasn't doing him any favors in the trust department either...

Duck smirks to Kate and Cadeuces. “Not going to say it won’t be complicated, but none of it involves moving into a jungle this time around- this gig should stay metro as far as I know.. anyway…” he looks to Darksoul. “You got a contact that sent you here, boss? Don’t usually take newcomers into our cadre or hold confidence with freelancers, so, let’s hear it mystery man- who sent you and what are you about?” He asks, taking a long, slow puff of a cigarette. He’d figured Hairy sent this newcomer along, but couldn’t be too sure, as even Hairy didn’t make a calm debut amongst this group.

Hairy arrives late; too early to be fashionable about it, but late enough to be not on time. He's upgraded his lined coat to one with gold piping along the edges, and is speaking loudly into an old Nokia phone, big enough for his bulky hands and tough enough to stop a bullet. "No chummer. No. Frag no. No one in this city wants that drek. I told you. Vegan hot dogs, that'll sell. Elves will love it. Listen chummer, I've gotta jet. Got a deal here I need to settle. Keeyahow." He closes up the phone and jams it into a pocket.

"Oi, chummers, good to see you all." He leans in close to clap hands White Duck and to slap Caduceus on the back. "So what's all this then? Got another job for me? Something ludicrous, right? I'm moving to the big times, I don't work unless its five digits no more."

Jonas took a look at the dwarf, inferring from overload of facial and other hair, that this was likely 'Hairy'.  He pushed himself up from the counter he'd been casually leaning against.  "Afraid I'm not chummers with this one.  Totally understand your position on newcomers.  My fixer, Alfred, had indicated that my services might be needed and welcomed.  He gave me the meet details.  Null sheen if he was mistaken."  He turned slightly towards the door but waited for confirmation one way or the other before moving to depart.

It wasn't strictly 'null sheen'.  Alfred had never given him a bum steer before, so if there'd been a communication issue, he doubted it had originated there.  Normally he'd just walk, but the promised pay-day sounded lucrative, and a man had to pay his debts somehow...

"Hairy, if it's anything like the last job, we'll be lucky to leave with 5 digits and 5 toes.  So, if we're not hunting bananas, what's the gig?"

Caduceus had had to fight back a coughing fit after having the wind knocked out of him by Hairy's greeting. Once he finally felt recovered enough to speak up again, he echoed Kate's sentiment. "Yeah, what's the gig? Assuming Alfred is on your nice list, and by extension Darksoul, how about we get those sweet deets?"

“Look man, I know Alfred, but this job’s personal and I’ve had the chance to personally vet the rest of my team here. Last gig left a sour taste in everyone’s mouths, but we got outta a bad situation with our hoops in tact.” He takes a drag from his smoke, then grins in Hairy’s direction.

“But the last guy I worked with tried stealing from me or some shit, I don’t remember… Anyway you smell…. Corporate.” He moves over to Jonas, clearly smaller, but his movements effortless. He inhales deeply, then looks up to him eye to eye, and grins.

“This gig involves eliminating a people-smuggling ring out in CAS, so whoever might have you in your pocket shouldn’t be affected at all.” At that point, a twenty-something hispanic woman covered in tattoos that trace their way across her skin like leylines leans her head into the doorway to the stockroom, her dreadlocked hair dangling in a scalp interwoven with various magical trinkets, some glowing.

“Speak for yourself Duckie, but you know I ain’t letting you work with no Azzies.” Duck blushes a bit and takes a step back, giving Jonas his personal space and leaning back against a glass display case for various miniatures used in some incredibly niche wargame.

“Uh, yeah, unless you work for Aztechnology, then you can kindly fuck off. Either way, pay should be at *least* 250 k per person. Yes lucrative, yes fucking dangerous, and none of you will wanna show your faces in the CAS ever again. It’s Mardi Gras, ladies and gentlemen. This job is highly personal to me- family is involved- and I’m not gonna let you all put yourselves at risk without going with you, so the worst part is probably gonna be taking orders from me, I figure.” He takes a drag. Blows smoke into a room filled with paper stained around the edges from it, a comic collection probably worth a few million to a discerning buyer, were it in good shape, but it’s probably worth about a few hundred thousand. He didn’t seem to care, which might lead someone to conclude that either he wasted a lot of money or he didn’t place value into it. Foolish or wise, the hot-headed man made his risky elevator pitch.

“I can assure you all however that it’ll be fun. My mom is also insisting on cooking for everybody, so there’s a hot meal and a plane ticket in it for all of ya gratis. Y’all in?”

Darksoul nodded, unperturbed.  "Was corp.  Trained me well.  Then bit the hand that fed me.  Stripped the flesh all the way up the arm and took off a good chunk of the shoulder too.  Oddly enough, they didn't want me in their pocket after that..."  He turned to the elderly woman and gave a slight bow of respect.  "My former employer's interactions with that region was what led to our 'parting of ways'."

He turned back to the albino.  "I get that you don't know me.  I don't know *any* of you.  I don't know what you need for your team, or why Alfred thought I'd be a good fit.  My specialties are infiltration and wet-work, typically from a distance."  He glanced back at the woman standing in the doorway before continuing.  "I don't do kids or innocents.  I don't accept a job unless I'm comfortable my karma's better off completing it.

You ok with that and need those skills, I can stay for the discussion.  If not, then I'll be on my way..."

He sat back and gave White Duck and the others a chance to voice their own thoughts, listening as he gazed at the shelves and fingered through some of the earlier manga.


The below assumes you don't kick me out :>
When there was a break in the discussion, he moved back to the group.

"Taking out people-smugglers is fine.  Presume we're talking non-willing cargo?
The pay seems a little high for that sort of job though.  Someone rolling in it footing the bill, or is there some other angle.

In terms of family connections, you able to keep your head on straight if things go sideways?  Afraid my taking orders is likely to end if this ends up a vendetta suicide run."

Caduceus merely shot White Duck a look that said, "I'm willing to work with Darksoul if you are." And of course Caduceus himself was in too. It sounded important enough to Duck that he probably would have even done it for significantly less pay. Not that he would volunteer that bit of info. Caduceus had bills to pay too, after all.

Hairy has to pause at that. "Yeah, that's good money. An' I'll do innocents, if it matters." He pauses for a moment, realizing that maybe that's a faux pas. "I mean... not for cheap or nothin'. Just, if it's real important.

Anyway, uh... so we got gear waiting for us there? An' we takin' a road trip or what?"

In reply to Hairy (msg # 16):

Nice, real nice, Hairy

Duck looks to Darksoul calmly, sizing him up in a moment, then shrugging. “Yer fine, chum. Non-willing people smugglers abound, yup. Criminal elements paying off local law enforcement. I am, in fact, hopping fucking mad. Skeezebags killed my dad, I dunno what to say. Pay’s guaranteed though- sadly, my inheritance locks that in for ya.”

He sighs, looking off out of the window.

“We’re flying. It’s just coach, I’m afraid, but s’ best I can do under the circumstances. If it’s any consolation, we’ve got an old family house in the quarter- the French Quarter. I’ve got to run the estate sale because my siblings are kinda shitty that way, so you can even buy the beds you sleep in, if you want. I haven’t been home in awhile, but a CAS attorney reached out about my inheritance.”
He looks around to those gathered, awaiting further questions.

Jonas nodded in understanding.

"Sorry for your loss."

He hadn't gotten a response about Duck's ability to keep his head on straight, but frankly his self assessment wasn't worth much anyhow.  This was a risk that would just have to be monitored.

"Do we have arrangements for shipping 'non-traditional' luggage?  Some of what I pack typically doesn't meet carry-on rules..."

"Losing a family member is always tough, no matter the circumstances. You have my condolences as well. As for the job, I'm in. People-smugglers are always worth taking down." Caduceus didn't have any plans to spend time in the CAS aside from this trip, so the fact that this mission would likely result in them not being able to go back there later was a minor issue at best.

Additionally, Caduceus had an affinity for hearth spirits, so he was excited to meet the ones at White Duck's estate before the place got sold off. It was a minor factor in his decision to go with, but a factor nonetheless.