The Tacoma Entanglement

[Arcticus]

The orange glow of sunset silhouettes the Seattle skyline as you all make your way to Milliway's Pub. The pub is on the corner of S Tacoma and S 52nd, the location handily provided to you by your fixer, a dwarf called Sovereign. You got his message only an hour ago. Some Johnson had a job, a milkrun with high urgency—and hopefully high pay to match. Apparently, he wanted to give you the details himself. Combine that with the fact that Milliway's is a known Mafia hangout, and you've got one interesting night ahead of you. There is an uneasy feeling amongst you all that's hard to ignore, but a job is a job.

You pass the neon lights of a small electronics shop and hear a radio blaring through the open door:

"Aaaaannndddd welcome back Seattleites! That last song was Ministry of Beggars' new glamrock hit, 'Brokenhearted Commission.' The time is currently 7:05PM and it is shaping up to be a hot and muggy evening here in the Metroplex. We'll be bringing some more music back to you in just a few minutes, but first, here's all the news you missed today while you were slaving away for the Man... First up, we have..."

The sound from the radio fades away as you pass the shop. Up ahead, several buildings away, you see a Troll and an Ork deep in conversation outside the front door to Milliway's. As you pass by them, you hear the Ork say, "No answer from Diego, again. He should've been here by now."

The troll snorts, "You know how Cormac is, he works those guys down to the bone."

"Even Cormac doesn't work this late. Maybe I should ask Dalton..."

Their voices trail off as you head inside.

---

Milliway's is a small pub, dimly lit and a bit of a dingy hue to everything. The bar sits on the opposite wall from the door, a row of hanging lights illuminating the bar area; a handful of barflies sit on the stools arrayed in front of it. Dingy, dark red booths cover the outside walls, while some simple tables and chairs fill up the rest of the space in the middle. It's about as full as you'd expect it to be on a Wednesday night in July, a few tables and booths filled here and there, but mostly empty otherwise.

As you all walk in, most of the patrons stare at you for a few seconds before turning back to their conversations and drinks. Evidently, Runners aren't an uncommon sight here.

Off to your left, in a corner booth, you see a man with dark brown hair beckon you toward him. As you walk toward him, you notice he seems to be wearing a light jacket draped on his shoulders.

He starts to speak, but it comes out hoarse. He clears his throat and says, "Are you the team of runners that Sovereign sent?"

[Aavarius]

Phantom⌥SIN://>E҉̰̰͎̆͞r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠_(n̸͐̈́͟͟͝u̶͖̖͆̊̈́͡͡l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝) ▣☐
HP: 6/6〘DS: 5/5〙Trauma: 7 ◎ Karma: ▣▣▣▣▣ ◎ S.S.: 0/9.75
╘ AC:〘R: 15, M: 13〙◎ Saves:〘P: 15+ E: 13+, M: 15+, L: 15+〙

⌥Cyberdeck://>《Access: ▣▣▣▣, Shielding: 5/5, CPU: ▣▣ _System Idle...》

---

Well, drek...

Phantom profaned internally. Seconds into this meet and already this was making her sweat bullets.

'Hello, fellow ne'er-do-wells! Perchance we instigate some felonious caper this eve?' Might as well spray everyone here with florescent paint it made them stand out so much.

"Mister Johnson," she intoned in her sweetest sotto voice, hoping he would catch a hint and praying to God nobody in this dive gave a damn about anybody else's affairs, "perhaps we move biz to a more discrete part of this establishment?"

So maybe this was, in fact, Phantom's first job on a runner team, but she had enough good sense to keep the quasi-legal nature of their operation on the down low. Jack and Skye had certainly drilled that into her. And, you know, as a skinny little chica, maybe she didn't look like the most intimidating of veterans with her twenty whole years of age. But dammit, she was adorable! And that had to count for something, right? All right, maybe not usually in this line of work, but could it help gently redirect a client? She certainly hoped it would.

Phantom wore her black longcoat. It was a reinforced affair, meant to keep her from standing out in the crowd while still helping her avoid catching a bullet. It also concealed the gear rig she wore, from which hung her iron and her cyberdeck. There was an Electric Love tee underneath there, too, the graphics on it being more than a little suggestive.

[Cairo]

Pop Idol

Elf

Tall & Skinny

Outgoing

Face

Low-Light Vision

 

Harry was winks all around, seemingly even to people who didn't look his way the moment he entered their general area. His massive, mirrored eyewear made it impossible to see them, of course, but his facial expression said he was winking all the same.

The ones who did acknowledge him got a smooth if rhetorical "Hey, how's it going?" or a "Lookin' good" - assuming they did, in fact, look good.

He was a known quantity. Him not acknowledging that fact would have been suspicious as all heck. So - perhaps to the chagrin of some of his teammates - he was all too happy to slide into the booth opposite from the brown-haired Johnson and set down roots. At least he had the discretion to not name individuals.

"Ocean's Eleven, at your service."

They hadn't really talked about names for this... runner cooperative yet, but you couldn't tell it from his act. An easy gesture at the rest of the team suggested the offered moniker covered the whole group. Perhaps detecting hints of a math problem going on in the Johnson's head, he was quick to follow up.

"He counts for six," he said, nudging a thumb at the massive troll, Ram. "And we'll put in a cool 110%, always."

Wink.

[Neopopulas]

Ram "Rampage" Gils

HP: 10/10 | AC: M16 / R16 | Damage Soak: 6 | Trauma Target: 7

Attack Bonus: +0 | Saves: Phys 11+ | Eva 16+ | Men 15+ | Luck 15+

"I think you will find that there is no discrete place when I'm around" It was hard to deny. Ram was twice as big as any normal human, not just twice as tall - though he was - not just twice as broad - though he was - he was just.. Huge.

Despite being well spoken, despite dressing well, nothing truly prepares you for this enormous thing standing over your shoulder.

[Landid]

Wesley "Doc" Valentine

HP: 7/7 | AC: M16 / R16 | Damage Soak: 2 | Trauma Target: 7

Attack Bonus: +0 | Saves: Phys 14+ | Eva 13+ | Men 13+ | Luck 15+

Wesley nods at the man asking the question. "For being at a bar it sure sounds like you could use a drink. Sovereign sends his regards by the way." Now whether or not Sovereign did truly didn't matter. He got them jobs and the least they could do was flatter the client a little while doing a good job. "This probably is the discreet location if I had to take a gander." He says in response to the comments by his companions.

 

[Lonewalker]

Jennifer "Bang" McCall

HP: 5 / 5| AC: M14 / R16 | Damage Soak: 5 | Trauma Target: 7

Attack Bonus: +0 | Saves: Phys 14+ | Eva 14+ | Men 15+ | Luck 15+

Jennifer felt the stares of the surrounding bar patrons even after they had looked away. She fidgeted, trying gamely not to either stare at the toes of her boots or put a hand on her the pistol holstered at her hip. To keep her shooting hand busy, she tugged at the end of her two-toned hair, mussed and scattered as though she'd just hairsprayed an unwashed mass. She avoided eye contact, grateful that the others that had been recruited by Sovereign seemed happy to speak up. She hated this part of a job - the introductions, the small talk, the negotiations. Things were easier when the op was underway - just focus on getting the task done, nothing more.

She pulled her leather jacket (with its discrete armored inserts) tighter around her slim frame and kept quiet, unconsciously shifting to the rear of the group. She'd let the others to the talking. Better than sounding like a stammering idiot.

[Arcticus]

The Johnson sputters. Between Phantom's admonishment, Harry's bombastic greeting, and setting eyes on the sheer hulking mass of Ram, he is utterly taken aback. He pinches his nose and exhales, and beckons for you all to sit at the large, dingy-red corner booth with him. A small light hangs several feet from the table, high enough that it's out of the way of everyone save Ram who has it sitting right in his eyes.

"Sorry 'bout the short circuit." he says to Cairo, "I was expecting more... discretion."

He jerks a thumb over at Ram. "I also wasn't expecting a trog—er, troll of his size. Seriously, you could fit like 3 humans in just his chest alone!"

He lets out a little laugh that sounds a little strained.

"Anyways," he continues, "to answer your question, 'Miss Discretion'"—he air quotes at Phantom—"this place is way more discrete than some strip joint or Palace of China or wherever you guys get your jobs at."

He nods vaguely toward the bar area. "Do any of you have a clue who owns this joint?"

Edited October 11, 2023 by Arcticus (see edit history)

[Cairo]

Pop Idol

Elf

Tall & Skinny

Outgoing

Face

Low-Light Vision

 

Harry scoots deeper into the booth to make room for the others, left arm resting casually on the backrest while the right remains ready for anything. His apparent cool is starkly contrasted by the Johnson's momentary loss of composure, but rather than exploiting the stumble the elf is quick to save the man from his own awkward commentary.

"Oh sure, yeah, wouldn't want to be any of those three though, right? Right?" he says jokingly, an easy smile on his lips as his free hand invites the rest of the team to play along.

It's a front, of course; a social nicety to both build rapport and hide Harry's scrutinizing of the Johnson's body language, clothing, the way he speaks.

"The mafia..?" He offers half-heartedly in response to the Johnson's question, while formulating an answer to a question of his own: what's behind this guy's seemingly distracted front?

[Aavarius]

Phantom⌥SIN://>E҉̰̰͎̆͞r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠_(n̸͐̈́͟͟͝u̶͖̖͆̊̈́͡͡l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝) ▣☐
HP: 6/6〘Damage Soak: 5/5〙Trauma: 7
╘ AC: R-15, M-13 | Saves: P-15, E-13, M-15, L-15
╘ Karma: ▣▣▣▣▣ | Strain: 0/9.75

⌥Cyberdeck://>《Access: ▣▣▣▣, Shielding: 5/5, CPU: ▣▣》_System Idle...

---

Speaking of loss of composure, Phantom started to do the same. She plopped down next to Harry in the booth, taking the moment to squeeze her temples with the heels of her hands as she tried to keep the exasperation aneurysm bottled inside. It took her a couple seconds to scoot in enough for somebody else to fit next to her, and by that time she looked a lot more composed. She had managed to refrain from responding to the Johnson's goading lecture--but only just. Dying from a ruptured blood vessel in her brain wasn't on her agenda today.

Everybody's first time is an awkward mess--laws of the universe, right?. Right, sure. Just like opposite day. Today was opposite day, the cosmic singularity in which everything Phantom tries turns out exactly backwards from what she intended. I hope this isn't a sign of things to come...

So rather than risk the universe conspiring to confound anything else she might say to salvage the situation, she decided to just shut up and stop feeding the universe ammo for a bit. Hell, Rampage was probably about to compose a haiku for them and to smooth over all the ruffled feathers.

[Arcticus]

 

[Arcticus]

The Johnson scoffs at Harry's guess. "The-the mafia? Not just the mafia. This pub belongs to the Bigio family. As in Don Bigio? The Capo di Capi of Seattle?"

His mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed, he sighs like he's been greatly burdened. "Che cavolo... runners these days..." he mutters under his breath, just barely audible.

He shakes his head. "Eh, doesn't matter. No one here will narc on us. And I need you guys on the job pronto, not listening to a drekhead like me going on about the Bigios and whatnot."

He leans in, resting his right arm on the table.

"Let me cut right to the quick. There's a warehouse I work out of over by SEATAC. Near the intersection of 24th Avenue and South 208th. Been working there a few years. Easy gig, but nothing to write home about."

He coughs once and winces. The wince disappears and he clears his throat, continuing on. "Anyways... the boss there, an ork fella called Cormac, is a real piece of drek. Made my life real miserable. So I—" he looks around the room, and lowers his voice a little bit "—I decided I was gonna do something about him. So I started moving some of the merchandise out of warehouse. Not stealing it, mind you... just reorganizing."

The Johnson leans back, and runs his right hand through his unruly brown hair. He chuckles. "Man, you shoulda seen the drek-chewing he got. It was legendary. I managed to keep it up for almost two months, until he installed some hidden cameras and caught me moving the merch at night. Called me into his office a week ago and is using it to blackmail me. If I don't do what he says, he sends the recordings to Don himself, which means my life is finito." He draws a line across his neck to emphasize his point.

"Which all brings us to today. I decide, I'm not gonna do any of the sick, twisted drek he's got in mind for me. I hired a team of runners to access his computer and delete all the recordings. And, well..." He shifts uncomfortably. "Cormac was there. He wasn't supposed to be. He was supposed to be at some bosses meeting. But, well... drek kinda hit the fan. Cormac had a lot more guys there than I expected and a shootout started. One of the runners had a pair of cyber attack dogs—don't ask me how or why, I didn't ask—but the dogs short-circuited or something and started attacking anything that moved."

"So to make a long story, short... I need you guys to finish the other teams job. Wipe the recordings from the computer in Cormac's office. You may also need to deal with cyberdog and possibly Cormac—if the cyberdog didn't get to him first."

He pauses, looking expectantly at everyone. "Soo, can you guys get started right away?"

[Neopopulas]

Ram "Rampage" Gils

HP: 10/10 | AC: M16 / R16 | Damage Soak: 6 | Trauma Target: 7

Attack Bonus: +0 | Saves: Phys 11+ | Eva 16+ | Men 15+ | Luck 15+

Ram didn't sit, he usually didn't bother in these situations, and most of the time he wouldn't fit anyway. He does have a small chuckle at the name 'bigio' not because he isn't concerned about who they are.. the name is just kinda funny is all.

"Sounds like a bit of a mix.." his voice is a low gravely rumble "Gotta wipe those drives and merc everything moving..."

[Cairo]

Pop Idol

Elf

Tall & Skinny

Outgoing

Face

Low-Light Vision

 

Harry simply nods when the Johnson describes the owner of the joint as the boss of bosses of the Seattle mafia. That is news to him, and he takes it in with a cool appreciation for the fact that this is not the place to start trouble in. He leans back to take in the story so far; warehouse, Cormac, cyberdogs and all.

"Depends," he responds to the Johnson's question. He nudges his head towards the man's jacket which is covering his left arm, then lowers his voice just enough so those at the table still hear him. "Are you still going to be alive to pay us when the job's done? I gather that's not a foodstain you're covering up."

The elf leans forward a bit, as if he was looking past the jacket at something the Johnson had failed to cover up. Classic move. The man might even fall for it.

[Aavarius]

Phantom⌥SIN://>E҉̰̰͎̆͞r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝r҉̵҉̛̠̩̥̋ͦ̆͆͟͞͡͞͠_(n̸͐̈́͟͟͝u̶͖̖͆̊̈́͡͡l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝l̶҉̰͚͖͕̍̈́̅͗̏̇͢͜͜͝) ▣☐
HP: 6/6〘Damage Soak: 5/5〙Trauma: 7
╘ AC: R-15, M-13 | Saves: P-15, E-13, M-15, L-15
╘ Karma: ▣▣▣▣▣ | Strain: 0/9.75

⌥Cyberdeck://>《Access: ▣▣▣▣, Shielding: 5/5, CPU: ▣▣》_System Idle...

---

As the Johnson went through explaining the job and the reasons behind it, there were several times when Phantom started to speak up and say something. They could see her open her mouth and begin a gesture before quickly restraining herself. She was trying very hard to behave. Really, she was.

But there was so much about this tale of woe that rather bothered Phantom. Why'd the Johnson want to do this one himself? Fixers weren't just middle men that scraped a cut off the top. There was a logistics role they filled, and a lot of the obvious questions Sovereign would have looked into--like doing homework on the Johnson. When she couldn't bite her tongue any more she thought, Frag it. Universe is going to get to reload.

"Um. So... you decided to screw about in the warehouse of the very Don whose name you just invoked at us." It wasn't really a question, more like an involuntary expression of bewilderment. To be fair, maybe Mr. Johnson didn't know at the time he was working for a mob-owned business. But with the kind of holy fear with which he had just invoked the Don, it seemed pretty wild he would want to raid the Capo di Capi's warehouse once he found out. Twice.

It took her a few seconds for Phantom to get her mouth in gear, but once she did, she had a couple intelligence related questions. "What's, uh, what's the state of the place now, Fort Knox? What about the other runners? And, uh, well, what sort of 'sick, twisted drek' are you looking at avoiding?"

She got another idea and asked him an additional question. "I keep backups of all my important data--how do you know ol' Cormac doesn't have one sitting someplace else? It's what I'd do if I were keeping you under my thumb. You're the inside man, so anything you can get us on the building network and security is going to help us out."

[Landid]

Wesley "Doc" Valentine

HP: 7/7 | AC: M16 / R16 | Damage Soak: 2 | Trauma Target: 7

Attack Bonus: +0 | Saves: Phys 14+ | Eva 13+ | Men 13+ | Luck 15+

It sounded like crap had hit the fan quite fantastically. There were a lot of unknowns in this situation and every single one of them could be fatal to their mission or their team. Even if the mission went off without a hitch there could be consequences to their actions down the line. Killing Cormac obviously is what the Johnson wanted and while Wesley wasn't one to actively try to kill people, you get used to death growing up how he did. Pointing his thumb towards Phatom before speaking, "To piggy back off what she is saying... This isn't going to put us on the Don's bad side now is it? Also how long ago was the other team in this warehouse?" He starts to rattle off questions that haven't been asked yet. "When you say a lot more men were there than supposed to be, how many are we talking? Any access you can grant us that we wouldn't have otherwise? Don't hold back on us now, mess needs cleaning up and we need all the cards you can give us." So many questions to ask but they seemed to be short on time. The job had a couple red flags but what job didn't? As long as it paid well he was in.