Key

 
Key snorts a laugh, despite himself. “So, you ain’t leaning, Gibson? - I don’t normally do business in my apartment… and you’ve never been one to make nice with the … trash, I believe you called me last time.”
He takes a drag from his own stick before he continues, “I am gonna back up now, I have some heat in hand but that’s ‘cause I don’t get many visitors here. I’ll put the safety on and raise my hand up as I move back from the door. Don’t get all Butcher of the Bay with me, please. I just had the carpets cleaned.”
With that he uses his foot to push the door open more and makes a show of putting the safety on the pistol, which manifests as a small click. He smiles and says, “I’d show you around but this ain’t your first time here. I’ve just cleaned too so try not to ‘toss’ anything.”
He continues, “Shut that behind you please.“ Without waiting for a reply, Key walks over, turns and leans back against his workbench.
“I’m listening. What ya got?”

"Think you're confusing me with my
Angel, from Jack's background - not THE Angel as in the crimelord, but Angelique the Detective/ex CSWAT cop slash sometime violence and cyberjunkie. Seriously, Jack is a largely social/face type cop - wasn't the name calling cop, not really.
former partner."
Jack remarks idly as he lets the half burned cig fall to earth and grinds it beneath his heel. "Easy mistake to make - what with us
She's a cyber'd up miniskirt wearing former bombshell with some rather severe burns and scars. Jack . .. well, no miniskirt.
being so similar and all."
he remarks dryly.

"'Sides, most of the names I call people English don't have words for." he smiles, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He scans the apartment with a grunt of resignation before settling himself up against a covnenient wall, folding his arms across his chest while as the incandescent TV glare threw his shadow into stark relief upon the door. He watches, head cocked as a flesh-monster-infant crawls and bleeds it's way across neotokyo in a spurt of taiko and gore for a passing second before turning his attention back to Key, all business.

"No specifics until you're in: I can't burn you, you can't burn me."

"You'll get a retainer up front - yours whether or not the run's successful or not. It's a high risk snatch and grab, with possible demo component after: take what they got and make sure they can't replace it easily. No targeted wetwork, but if it gets messy, it gets messy and we deal. And it will get messy." He leans in on the emphasis. "I need a B&E and tech specialist - that's you - I'll be supplying the muscle and I've got a third lined up to play rear guard and wheelman as well as mr. medkit. Anyone else is at my discretion, though I've got my eye on a solo to cover the messy bit." He shrugs, not willing to commit Lily even if she was still alive.

"It would be better if you knew pharms or chems, but it's not critical - worse case I drop for a chip and deal with some MRAM lag. Payout is a share of what we take, sans the stuff that gets . . ." he searches for the right word. " - reinvested. Potential payout for you runs four or five figures, depending."

"You interested?"

When Gibson mentions his partner, Key smirks, “It’s hard to remember the faces, when you are watching your place get tossed.”
He watches Gibson as he scans the the room and the flat flick. When he get’s finished with the breakdown of the crew, Key starts nodding his head, likes he keeping score.
When asked if he is interested, Gibson can already see the light in his eyes. He takes a drag, holds it a moment, then let’s out.“Yep, I’m in. As for the skill set. I can definitely help out with the b&e and tech. I got some demo skills too but I ain’t loaded right now. I can be chipped for pharma or chem or both. I can see about getting a hold of some if you need.”

He pauses and adds,“Time table? Now or later”

Out of CharacterJack ground the cigarette into the stoop - on concrete. He didn't enter the apartment until after he put the cigarette out.

out of character
Totally my bad on that. I edited out of my post. Thanks for the heads up. I laughed about it - the cigarette in the carpet that is!

"Sooner the better: inside limit would be twenty four hours, three days on the outside. Any longer than that - " he shrugs " - Intel goes sour and the target is iable to be reinforced. We get in under the wire and they might not know what's coming."

The television sets strobed ancient violence and static as Jack settled against the wall, the weight of his armored trenchcoat digging into his shoulders while the telltale tug of his holster left a subtle pressure across his chest. The heft tof the iron at his side was a reminder of what was to come, and why.

"You ain't asked yet -" Jack offered after a long moment. " - the big question. The question." He grined, a hollow smile at once mocking and tired. "Who?"

”Who? Who used to matter to me. When I still thought there was a single set of good guys and another set of bad guys…”, he looked over at the tv screen. Wasn’t going to well for Tetsuo.
Key gave a tight little smile,“After getting knocked down enough times, even someone as boneheaded as I gets the picture. There’s a whole lotta’ grey out there. And who are the good guys, the bad guys, they’re moving targets. Changing all the time. Like they used to say in the Service - the situation is fluid.” He walked over and picked up the whiskey bottle from the floor, poured two fingers into a glass and slung it back. He sighed and motioned towards Gibson as if to ask if he wanted a drink.*
Key took another hit of tobacco. “The real interesting question is the why. But most people either clam up when you ask or won’t shut up about how they were mistreated by so and so…” he trailed off, and shook his head.
“Nope, who doesn’t matter so much anymore - not to me anyway. But I am willing to hear why if you feel like explaining”

Jack waved off the glass, tempting as it was - the list of his vices was long enough already and would only lengthen with a stay upon the jagged edge. He'd get there soon enough. And worse.

"Good or bad don't enter into it - its the question 'cuz it figures in what happens after:"

"- We're hitting the Tongs. Where it hurts."


Jack's grin widens into a gallows smile as his eyes glint in the dark.

"We're hitting their distribution center."

***

Tongs - the American grown branch of the Triads: one of the clans vying for control of Chinatown and ready to expand into NC proper. Held in check, barely, by the
Mainland version of the same organization
Triads the Tongs are on par with La Cosa Nostra, the Russian Братва and the Japanese Yakuza in terms of sheer viciousness, and what they lack in territory they make up for in organization and sheer spite. Crossing the Tong is a quick way to an early grave, and gunning for them is near suicide. If this goes down an known parties will be marked men in Chinatown and likely beyond. They may be a local syndicate, but that's a double edged sword - you run against Arasaka, Seburo is a thousand miles away and you're just some line on a report that they'll get to, someday. You run against one of the Families in the NC and they know what you look like, where you live and who you love.

“The Tongs,” He barks a laugh, “Yeah, that’s a who alright.”
He rubs his chin and looks at Gibson, takes in the dark smudges under his eyes. Damn, he’s really frakkin walkin a knife edge!
He inhales and then slowly lets the smoke out. “I’m an independent. Have done a little here and there for just about all the frakked up fools running the streets. Even helped out some of the boys in blue… What you’re talking about is crazy.” He shaking his head back and forth.
“How does Lian play into this? Won’t you be startin’ a s***storm? If the Tongs make you during this, it will seem like Lian sanctioned it. I have done a little business in Chinatown, … acquiring things for people but I being an independent makes my work a little less volatile no matter what happens.”
After Gibson responds to his question, he picks up the glass to pour another drink, then sets the glass and bottle back down untouched. He gets a funny light in his eyes and he says, “Normally when I do crazy, I’m running solo. It’ll sure be different with some company. I’ll see about rounding up some chips. I shouldn’t have no traffic getting that worked out.” He looks off at the window, thinking.
Two more questions, “Where you want to meet up? And - You got someone to ask about the boom boom or should I look into that also?”




 

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