"This isn't my area - either going in straight up or contacting the cult.  I'm more than willing to let Charlie ply his trade.  We have to go in at some point - and soon - that isn't negotiable.  But if he can make that move easier I am all for it.  But we are not rich in time."  He looked up and down the street.  "Do we really want to keep standing here across from the door?  We don't exactly fit in this neighborhood.  Whether its the cult or the maid who spots us, that doesn't seem good.  Where do we sit while Charlie works his magic?  I wouldn't mind getting out of this rain, but I really want to get out of sight.  Makes me nervous."

Bloodbank felt that same sense of nervousness. It was a creeping feeling that itched at the small of his back. Furtively, he glanced up and down the street, eyeing the smattering of homeless on the street. He felt as though each and every one of them was eyeing the group of Edgerunners, appraising the gathering as one might a particularly juicy cut of steak at the butchers. Suppressing a small shudder, and unconsciously resting his hand on his sidearm. As he idly stroked the hard metal of the weapon, Bloodbank nodded. 

"I'm with Fixer on this. Let's pull down the street here a little way or somethin'.  I don't really care where just as long as we're not all loitering out in front of this building as though we mean to raid it." Bloodbank paused for a second there, considering the fact that that just might be what they ended up doing. He hoped not. 

Instead, a nasty little voice whispered inside his head, you're sending in some homeless bum to do it for you. 

With a slight twitch to his lips, Bloodbank disregarded that thought out of hand. It was just some nameless bum whose only real worth to this world would be the assistance he gave the group tonight. Honestly, if the bum ended up dead, it'd probably be a blessing for him, no longer having to spend his days wallowing in the filth and rot of this Midcity slum. 

Suddenly, with a crashing jolt, Bloodbank realized what he was thinking. What was he thinking!? His pistol suddenly seemed to burn in where he rested his hand, and without really thinking of how he looked, he snatched his hand away to rub the palm. He'd been on this job for mere days and already he was sliding back into habits that he'd spent months and months trying to purge from his psyche. Months of rejecting job offers, of alienating friends and colleagues, of tarnishing the slight reputation that he'd built in his trade while he lived in near destitution. All to try to be a more upright individual, and look at how well he was accomplishing that!

He grimaced, thinking back to his actions the past couple of days. Sure, he'd protested whenever the group had done something that had seemed even slightly morally gray, but that all seemed so hollow. So fake and forced. So illegitimate. Bloodbank felt a fraud, lying to the others and himself in an attempt to feel righteous and good. 

This isn't really who I am, Bloodbank thought morosely. I can pretend to be otherwise, but in the end, I'm just as I've always been: self-absorbed and quick to the gun. I can't change that. I can't change me. 

"Who am I fooling," Bloodbank mumbled softly, the quiet words lost against the inside of his Battlemask. 

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Rya Mendez’s Listed Address - Outside on the Street  | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 6:40 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

The plan, as Cred Stick Charlie lays it out for them, is to hire one of the homeless to go into the building and sess out if Rya Mendez is even at the apartment. Charlie can also attempt to get information from the homeless concerning the Reef’s social position on the building and what the Edgers may run into.

“A scouting mission,” Echo mutters appreciatively.

“Well, there’s no lack of homeless people,” Blossom chirps and tugs her coat about her small frame to ward against a particularly fierce gust of soaking wind.

“I like this a hell of a lot better than splitting up again and walking in blind,” Bloodbank adds his agreement. “No offense, Casino, but that other plan had me on edge.”

“And it’s obvious that Charlie has dealt with the Reef Alt-Cult before,” Blossom adds. “I haven’t. If it ain’t sushi, I tend to stay away from seafood.”

“Fixer? Ghlahn?” Bloodbank looks to the other two for their input, pointing to where the Techie had already stored his mask. “You aren’t going to want to stand around out here without that on for much longer.”

Already, the pollutants in the air are tickling at the man’s throat threatening to make his dissolve into a coughing fit. Fixer listens to the others outline their respective plans and even as Bloodbank recommends he put his mask back on he takes it out and put it back in place. He breathes in a deep breath and shrugs his shoulders in response to the questions being bandied about.

"This isn't my area—either going in straight up or contacting the cult. I'm more than willing to let Charlie ply his trade. We have to go in at some point—and soon—that isn't negotiable. But if he can make that move easier, I am all for it. But we are not rich in time." He looks up and down the street. "Do we really want to keep standing here across from the door? We don't exactly fit in this neighborhood. Whether it’s the cult or the maid who spots us, that doesn't seem good. Where do we sit while Charlie works his magic? I wouldn't mind getting out of this rain, but I really want to get out of sight. Makes me nervous."

As much as Casino dislikes Starlight’s watchdog, he has to admit Charlie’s idea is better than his own. The big solo cannot help but smile, after all, he had asked for a better one. To Casino, rescuing the kid has fallen in priority to just becoming a step in the process of getting to Vegas, to rescuing him or avenging him. The quicker they accomplish this, the quicker they can get what matters most to Casino.

Not saying a word, Casino nods his head in agreement and prepares to let Charlie do his thing.

Bloodbank feels that same sense of nervousness. It is a creeping feeling that itches at the small of his back. Furtively, he glances up and down the street, eyeing the smattering of homeless. He feels as though each and every one of them is eyeing the group of Edgerunners, appraising the gathering as one might a particularly juicy cut of steak at the butchers. Suppressing a small shudder, the medtech unconsciously rests his hand on his sidearm. As he idly strokes the hard metal of the weapon, Bloodbank nods.

"I'm with Fixer on this. Let's pull down the street here a little ways or somethin'. I don't really care where just as long as we're not all loitering out in front of this building as though we mean to raid it." Bloodbank pauses for a second, considering the fact that this just might be what they end up doing. He hopes not.

Instead, a nasty little voice whispers inside his head, you're sending in some homeless bum to do it for you.

With a slight twitch to his lips, Bloodbank disregards that thought out of hand. It is just some nameless bum whose only real worth to this world would be the assistance he gives the group tonight. Honestly, if the bum ends up dead, it'd probably be a blessing for him, no longer having to spend his days wallowing in the filth and rot of this Undercity slum.

Suddenly, with a crashing jolt, Bloodbank realizes what he is thinking. What is he thinking!? His pistol suddenly seems to burn where he rests his hand, and without really thinking of how he looks, he snatches his hand away to rub the palm. He's been on this job for mere days and already he is sliding back into habits that he has spent months and months trying to purge from his psyche. Months of rejecting job offers, of alienating friends and colleagues, of tarnishing the slight reputation that he'd built in his trade while he lived in near destitution. All to try to be a more upright individual, and look at how well he is accomplishing that!

He grimaces, thinking back to his actions the past couple of days. Sure, he'd protested whenever the group had done something that had seemed even slightly morally gray, but that all seems so hollow. So fake and forced. So illegitimate. Bloodbank feels a fraud, lying to the others and himself in an attempt to feel righteous and good.

This isn't really who I am, Bloodbank thinks morosely. I can pretend to be otherwise, but in the end, I'm just as I've always been: self-absorbed and quick to the gun. I can't change that. I can't change me.

"Who am I fooling," Bloodbank mumbles softly, the quiet words lost against the inside of his Battlemask.

“There you have it,” Blossom spreads her hands wide and looks to Charlie. “Do your thang, pretty boy.”

“Let’s pull the jeep back there,” Echo dips her head further down the street. “We can keep an eye on the building and the… messenger, Charlie picks for us from there without appearing threatening to those in the building.” Your education is showing, she grimaces beneath her balaclava. Slipping out of street slang and sounding like a private school girl.

With the decision made, there’s but one more thing to be put in place. Charlie needs a bodyguard. No self-respecting fixer is going to be walking around these streets without someone to guard his six. Echo might not be taken as seriously as the big brute of a solo, but Luther is well aware that Casino doesn’t favor him, and Ghlahn has already expressed a preference to an overwatch position as opposed to close quarters combat.

(OOC: I’ll let you all decide who goes with Charlie&hellip

Seeking out the right individual amongst the homeless is a skill. There needs to be enough desperation that they will take on the risk but not enough that they’ll be crazy and run with the money. The appearance needs to be such that they’ll not be immediately kicked to the curb or made into a Shark-boy’s plaything. And, they need to not be drugged out as they’ll require their senses about them.

Strolling amongst the makeshift tents, deteriorating biodegradable plastic shipping blocks, shopping carts, and whatever other pieces of trash that can be jury-rigged together to form a shelter, the time of day is both a blessing and a curse. Most of the street rats are asleep, completely in the grips of their preferred drug, or drunk off their asses and not likely to recover for hours. At the same time, the two Edgerunners aren’t being accosted and pressed for “donations.”

Finally, Luther stops, his gaze piercing the predawn gloom. Near a dumpster sits a well-constructed tent made of old military grade canvas. No trash exists within two meters of it and the space that the other homeless are giving the abode shows a certain level of respect. Furthermore, there’s a light on inside, small and dim but visible through the centimeter wide crack between the flaps and Luther has seen the light be blotted out on a couple of occasions indicating that the occupant is awake.

Up the street a ways, Echo parks the jeep facing back towards the building. The negotiating party is well within sight and the Edgers have a decent vantage to watch everything transpire.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 06:50 AM PST)

  Ghalan listened to the plan.  Seemed that Charlie would be scouting out a homeless person to do some snooping.  Never a great plan to depend on others but in this case it was probably the best.  At least the homeless would blend in a bit.  Ghalan was well aware that he stood out.  If Charlie was going to go wandering around he might need a bit of backup.  "I'll go with you Charlie. Might need some overwatch in case things go south."

Fixer just nodded as the plan was developed.  Again, this wasn't his area.  How often had he said that today?  Plenty.  But it was true.  They each had their skill set.  Guarding Charlie wasn't his area either.  

So instead of participating in aything much at this time he just went wtih Echo to the car.  Everyone would be watching Charlie and his bodyguard closely.  Fixer made it his task to watch every other direction.  Someone had to.  He might not be skilled in the tasks of the moment, but he had eyes and he knew how to use them.  And so he watched and waited.  The waiting felt like it was going to kill him.  That mental clock in his head kept ticking.  Every minute that passed felt like sand slipping through the hourglass.  Did hourlgasses tick?  No.  He was mixing his time-related metaphors.  And getting nervous.  

How much time did Jace have?  For that matter, how much time did they have?  Or Vegas, if he was even savable.  Every task in front of them seemed to be funtioning on a fast moving clock.  And here they were sitting in a car and staring at Charlie chatting with a homeless guy.  Every nerve in Fixer urged him to jump up and run.  Do somethng and do it quickly.  Rush the building.  Something.  But the techie had been in many spots before where patience was critical.  When you are messing with alarms and other systems speed could kill.  Patience.  Patience in the face of adrenaline.  Many a life had been saved or lost based on the success or failure of patience.  

So the Fixer took a calming breath, kept his weapon easily at hand, and watched the streets.  

Contris: Open

Tag: Brom Sal, Ghalan

Goals:

• Dealing with solos and Neo-corps
• File yet another report to Starlight with a sitrep ( mission update )
• Make contact with Homeless person in tent

Pending: see below

studying: Chinese Language

Study Chinese culture

Look into his option of identity printers later

Contacting: Tomas`

Trigger: Police contact ( Stress )

Vices:

Sex

Drugs

Goals:

1. To keep alive and recover the kid before the second team kills all of us
2. Contact Tomas and start the network

Charlie attempt to make contact with a homeless woman and cuts a deal so that someone will make the recce for him. Hopefully also will let the reefers know that an edgerunner wishes to communicate with them.

if Rya Mendez is even at the apartment. Charlie can also attempt to get information from the homeless concerning the Reef’s social position on the building and what the Edgers may run into.

Charile’s plan was really two fold......

In a watery world of the reef, what better than to get ... more teeth?.

Chariles’ group couldn’t take the chance of messing up even more, the other team  was closing in and these reefers would be chariles’s ticket to slow them down if not set them back for a bit.

The metalhead offer to assit Charlie and he accepted with a nod while procceding to find someone that would....

Strolling amongst the makeshift tents, deteriorating biodegradable plastic shipping blocks, shopping carts, and whatever other pieces of trash that can be jury-rigged together to form a shelter, the time of day is both a blessing and a curse. Most of the street rats are asleep, completely in the grips of their preferred drug, or drunk off their asses and not likely to recover for hours. At the same time, the two Edgerunners aren’t being accosted and pressed for “donations.”

Finally, Luther stops, his gaze piercing the predawn gloom. Near a dumpster sits a well-constructed tent made of old military grade canvas. No trash exists within two meters of it and the space that the other homeless are giving the abode shows a certain level of respect. Furthermore, there’s a light on inside, small and dim but visible through the centimeter wide crack between the flaps and Luther has seen the light be blotted out on a couple of occasions indicating that the occupant is awake.

“ Evening Choombata, I  hope that I’m not disturbing you in your tent while others are in the sandman’s playbox”. Charile annouces himself from a distance “ If you have the time to parley perhaps this night might end up benniting two praties instead of one,  interested Choomba”

Charile waits for a reply or some monvement

 It was with dark thoughts that Bloodbank slipped into the back seat of the Jeep that Credstick had supplied. Even the dry respite of the vehicle's interior was no relief compared to the storm that raged inside his mind. Back and forth his thoughts raced, circling around the source of his internal anguish: despite his most heartfelt desire and intentions, he was still the same violent man he was all those months ago. Honestly, it felt like a lifetime.

He was a part of a gang of Edgerunners, a gang that took the money where they could find it; and the most money usually was found in the most unsavory places. During his stint with them, Bloodbank had murdered, robbed, and blackmailed all in the name of credits. Creds where all that he'd cared about. With credits, you could live a good life. With credits, you'd never have to give anything up. It was because of the need for credits that he'd grown up running drugs for the Bozos after his own parents had sold him away like secondhand garbage. With credits, he'd never have to live the life he'd grown up living.

That was the motto he lived his life by... Until one particular job. Late at night, when he was just drifting on the edge of sleep, he could sometimes hear the screams, the crying of the children. Clenching his fists, Bloodbank shook the thought from his head. He tried not to dwell on that night.

Bloodbank didn't acknowledge the soft jolt of the Jeep pulling to a stop. He didn't even glance out the window to see where they stopped. He just stared at his lap, a scowl painting his hidden face. Slowly, he pulled his handgun from its sheath and held it in his lap. He felt the weight of it in his gloved hands. This weapon had been with him almost from the start, it had saved his life several times and had ended so many more. He hated it, but despite his feelings toward it, he just could not give it up. He had tried.

Yes... He had tried... He had tried. 

The thought echoed in his head. He wanted to change, so very badly. Wasn't it the intent to change that really mattered? After all, a change didn't happen overnight. But it wasn't just overnight, it was months of nights. Months of nights sleeping in the cold after he couldn't afford rent. Months of nights where all he had to eat were tasteless Kibblepacks. Surely that would've been long enough to change, right? Well... Months were an insignificant amount of time compared the years of habitual selfish self-preservation that he'd developed beforehand. Maybe he just needed more time.

Still... He felt that as long as he held on to this handgun... This... This anchor to his past that he'd never quite been able to let go of.

Taking a deep breath, Bloodbank placed the handgun on the seat next to him. He would be better. No matter how long it took.

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Rya Mendez’s Listed Address - Outside on the Street  | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 6:50 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Finally, Luther stops, Ghlahn at his side, his gaze piercing the predawn gloom. Near a dumpster sits a well-constructed tent made of old military grade canvas. No trash exists within two meters of it and the space that the other homeless are giving the abode shows a certain level of respect. Furthermore, there’s a light on inside, small and dim but visible through the centimeter wide crack between the flaps and Luther has seen the light be blotted out on a couple of occasions indicating that the occupant is awake.

Up the street a ways, Echo parks the jeep facing back towards the building. The negotiating party is well within sight and the Edgers have a decent vantage to watch everything transpire.

“Morning, Choombatta. I hope that I’m not disturbing you in your tent while others are in the Sandman’s Playbox,” Charlie announces himself from where he has stopped. “If you have the time to parlay, perhaps this night might end up benefiting two parties instead of one. Interested, Choomba?”

“Go the **** away, corpse,” a low male voice growls from within the depths of the canvas castle. “Leave me in peace.”

His initial approach ineffective, Cred Stick Charlie dips his head a bit and allows the rain that has gathered on the brim of his fedora to drizzle off in a small waterfall before his face. This man is exactly who he wants to work their cause. He’s obviously a loner, but his response shows mettle and his desire to be left alone in his own version of serenity tells the fixer that he’s likely a thoughtful man. Just what’s needed for something like the task the Edgerunners are facing.

He attempts another approach, this time attempting to just draw the target into the false dawn for a better look at him. This takes a few tries and well thought out phrases but eventually the man emerges.

He stands almost two meters in height, flowing from the interior of his abode much like an octopus from his hole. He’s thin, gangly, and one-legged using an old crutch wrapped in duct tape. His black face is scarred by acid or fire making him hideous to behold. To Ghlahn, it is obvious that he’s the victim of a napalm attack. His missing leg combined with that injury and his inability to replace the limb with cybernetics and get a skinjob means he was most likely military—probably fought in one of the many wars the U.S. is engaged in within the jungles of South America or the wilds of Africa and the Middle East. He’s a casualty of patriotism, or, at the very least, a man who had no future and banked it all on serving his country. To Cred Stick Charlie, he’s a wounded soul who hides from Public scrutiny—a tragedy of the World as it is now and a cast off from humanity.

No matter how the two Edgerunners view the man, the conversation continues with Luther slowly winning him over. His name is Edgar but the “locals” call him The Alien. Whether Edgar cares for the moniker or not isn’t apparent. He’s cautious. He has lost faith in the World. It is to this casualty that Cred Stick Charlie latches onto. The Alien has a chance to do some good, to help a young boy in trouble. The gamble pays off. Fifty credits and Edgar will go into the building, to Rya Mendez’s conapt where he will see if she’s home. He’ll recon the area and see if there are any Reefers hanging around that the Edgerunners might have to contend with. Then he’ll reconnect with Charlie and Ghlahn at his tent to give his report. The fifty also buys his silence.

As far as the Reef is concerned, they claim the territory but not as an Enclave. There are frequent engagements between the Reef and local boosters, crime syndicates, and other powers in the area. Cops are practically non-existent so the homeless attempt to remain neutral in every way. The privileged living indoors have to deal with builder nanites tearing apart their insides of their buildings for materials to use elsewhere. Often, these inhabitants are aligning themselves with one faction or another just out of necessity. Without some affiliation, they become prey. Whether there are any Reef inside the building is yet to be seen. It’s a little after seven in the morning on a Sunday… Edgar is doubtful that he’ll run into any unless they’ve got business (personal or professional) with someone in the building that’s concluding or beginning. The Reef have their Enclave nearby and that’s where they would be residing. Less likely they are ambushed by an enemy within their walls.

If there are Reef present, The Alien will check and see if they want to meet with Luther. Edgar doesn’t want to know what about and he obviously doesn’t accept that it is related to the rescue of the boy.

“That’s one tall dude,” Blossom whistles past the stick protruding from her plump lips. She’s running three background apps as they sit in the air jeep watching the fixer and his CEE-metal companion work. One app is monitoring power usage in the area, another is keeping tabs on traffic cameras (though there aren’t any in the area, she’s hoping that she can spot anything that looks like trouble coming their way no matter the odds), and the third is scanning message boards and chat sites for any mention of the missing boy. She doesn’t need to monitor the work since the AI in her agent will notify her if any of her parameters are met. She can focus on the Real World instead.

“He is that,” Echo replies leaning forward and crossing her arms on the steering wheel. “Probably doesn’t blend in too well.”

Blossom laughs lightly. She’s seated in back of Echo on the bench seat with Bloodbank and Fixer while Casino is in the passenger seat up front. Glancing away from the working fixer, her attention is drawn to the medtech as he places his weapon on his seat. Rolling the sucker from her right cheek over to the left, she narrows her eyes behind her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“Expecting trouble, sweetcheeks?” she asks when he sets it on the seat next to him.

“They’re on the move,” Echo interrupts. Blossom quickly readjusts her focus and watches as Cred Stick Charlie and Ghlahn begin to make their way towards the jeep while the tall Frankenstein’s Monster begins hobbling off in the direction of the building.

“Looks like it worked,” the netrunner states.

“Whatever ‘it’ was,” Echo casts a sideways glance at Casino in an attempt to gauge his thoughts. She hasn’t known the mountain of a Solo for long but feels an irresistible draw to him. He’s moody, unpredictable, maybe even impulsive, but he’s a deep well and she recognizes a lot of emotion within him. Is he broken? Luke says she’s into projects. He’s warned her against those kinds of relationships many, many times. The funny thing about it? That kiss back in the alley… that’s as close to a relationship as she’s ever had. She’s been too afraid to open herself up to anyone in the Family, romantically, that is. Confusion over the way she feels about this brooding soldier floods her mind as she takes in his rough features. Why now? Why him? No answers are readily available.

Arriving at the air jeep, Charlie and Ghlahn rejoin their companions and report on their success. Now comes the waiting part. Every op has at least one period of time where this is the name of the game. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier. Minutes pass just watching The Alien—a name that Blossom thinks fitting—make his way down the street to the stoop. When he disappears inside, the tension in and around the vehicle is palpable. Nearly a half hour passes before Edgar hobbles out the door and down the stoop. This is the catalyst that sets Charlie and Ghlahn back in motion, returning to the homeless man’s hovel.

Timing their arrival at the tent so that they meet up with The Alien, Charlie offers a greeting with a nod of his head.

“Your Rya Mendez ain’t home,” Edgar rumbles through his burnt lips. “Some old lady was there. Named Marta. Weren’t no Reef inside to deal with. That Marta, she didn’t let me in and didn’t open the door wide enough for me to see past her. Couldn’t tell if there’s a kid in there. Sorry.”

Paying the man his fifty credits in cash, the pair of Edgerunners return to their companions and fill them in.

“So, we go pay this Marta a visit and see what we can learn, right?” Blossom remarks.

“Nicely?” Echo adds, moving from the driver’s seat so that Charlie can take possession once again. Standing in the misty morning air, wind gusting about her, the nomad leans down so she can hear what the others are saying. “I’m not keen on roughing up a gray-hair.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 07:43 AM PST)

Address, X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5 | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 4:05 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Casino sat quietly in the passenger seat watching Charlie make his moves but not really there. His mind on Vegas and the time ticking away for his partners life.

Come on, lets go, lets go, kept going through the big solo’s mind, his hands clutching and unflinching. Casino’s right foot moving up and down and the big solo almost grinding his teeth in frustration

“They’re on the move” Echo suddenly speaks up as Charlie and Ghlahn start to head back towards the car.

“Looks like it worked,” Blossom answered

“Whatever ‘it’ was,” Echo replied as she cast a sideways glance at Casino.

Looking to where Ghlahn and Charlie were returning he actually found himself becoming calmer and more focused with the possibility to get things moving forward once more. Within a matter of minutes what information they had gathered was relaid to the others.

“So, we go pay this Marta a visit and see what we can learn, right?” Blossom remarks.

“Nicely?” Echo adds, moving from the driver’s seat so that Charlie can take possession once again. Standing in the misty morning air, wind gusting about her, the nomad leans down so she can hear what the others are saying. “I’m not keen on roughing up a gray-hair.”

Not saying a word but clearly showing his desire to get on with things Casino stepped from the car and joining Echo on the street, waiting for the groups next move........................

Fixer sat and waited as the homeless man exited the building.  It had been a long wait.  He had wondered as he sat there if there was a way to use the radios to get a fix on Vegas' position once this trip was done.  Whoever had the big guy had one of the walkies he had made.  Could he triangulate based off of that information later?  Maybe.  It would be worth checking if they ever reached that stage of this adventure.  In the mantime he waited for the Casino and Ghlan to get word from the stooge.  

The word, it seemed, was go.  The lady was there and the cult was not.  Time to move out.  It was like working a job.  Wait, wait, wait, wait and wait some more while the technicals were figured out and then run.  Go as quick as possible once the dye had been cast.  

"Ok, so we go in.  I'm guessing we still need someone to stay here and watch the door.  Maybe give a warning if someone comes.  We still have two of the walkies amongst us.  They can be overheard, but even just a single word might give warning of the need for a different exit.  So, whoever is planning this thing - who goes in and who watches?" 

“Expecting trouble, sweetcheeks?” Blossom asked when Bloodbank set his firearm on the seat next to him.

"Hopefully not." Was all that Bloodbank had to say.

“They’re on the move,” Echo interrupts. Blossom quickly readjusted her focus and watched as Cred Stick Charlie and Ghlahn began to make their way towards the jeep while the tall Frankenstein’s Monster began to hobble off in the direction of the building.

“Looks like it worked,” the Blossom stated.

“Whatever ‘it’ was,” Echo cast a sideways glance at Casino in an attempt to gauge his thoughts. She hadn’t known the mountain of a Solo for long but felt an irresistible draw to him. He’s moody, unpredictable, maybe even impulsive, but he’s a deep well and she recognized a lot of emotion within him. Is he broken? Luke says she’s into projects. He’s warned her against those kinds of relationships many, many times. The funny thing about it? That kiss back in the alley… that’s as close to a relationship as she’d ever had. She’d been too afraid to open herself up to anyone in the Family, romantically, that is. Confusion over the way she feels about this brooding soldier flooded her mind as she took in his rough features. Why now? Why him? No answer was readily available.

Arriving at the air jeep, Charlie and Ghlahn rejoined their companions and report on their success. Now came the waiting part. Every op has at least one period of time where this was the name of the game. Knowing that didn't make it any easier. Minutes passed just watching The Alien—a name that Blossom thought fitting—made his way down the street to the stoop. When he disappeared inside, the tension in and around the vehicle was palpable. Nearly a half hour passed before Edgar hobbled out the door and down the stoop. This was the catalyst that set Charlie and Ghlahn back in motion, returning to the homeless man’s hovel.

Timing their arrival at the tent so that they met up with The Alien, Charlie offered a greeting with a nod of his head.

“Your Rya Mendez ain’t home,” Edgar rumbled through his burnt lips. “Some old lady was there. Named Marta. Weren’t no Reef inside to deal with. That Marta, she didn’t let me in and didn’t open the door wide enough for me to see past her. Couldn’t tell if there’s a kid in there. Sorry.”

Paying the man his fifty credits in cash, the pair of Edgerunners returned to their companions and filled them in.

“So, we go pay this Marta a visit and see what we can learn, right?” Blossom remarked.

“Nicely?” Echo added, moving from the driver’s seat so that Charlie can take possession once again. Standing in the misty morning air, the wind gusted about her, the nomad leaned down so she can hear what the others are saying. “I’m not keen on roughing up a gray-hair.”

"Nicely." Bloodbank agreed, trying to put all his newfound conviction behind that single word.

"Ok, so we go in." Fixer stated. "I'm guessing we still need someone to stay here and watch the door.  Maybe give a warning if someone comes.  We still have two of the walkies amongst us.  They can be overheard, but even just a single word might give warning of the need for a different exit.  So, whoever is planning this thing - who goes in and who watches?" 

"Glahn?" Bloodbank suggested. "You like keeping an eye on things from afar, right? Perhaps Blossom can accompany you? Maybe use some of that technological magic to keep an even broader eye out? I'd like to go in; following Cred-Stick's lead, I assume."

Bloodbank paused there. There was a lot of distrust of Cred-Stick Charlie, something that Bloodbank didn't quite understand. The group hadn't known each other much longer than they had known Charlie, after all. Everyone else in the group was almost just as much of an unknown as the Charlie, and yet Bloodbank trusted them all with his life. He had to, just as they all had to trust him to have their back and to do his job.

"After all," The MedTech continued. "He's been very effective so far."

"Alright, I'll keep an eye on things.  Fair warning, you touch my radio and you will end up dead.  Not gonna repeat that last encounter.  Just let me know when and where you plan on entering and I'll find an overwatch spot."  

Contris: Open

Tag: Brom Sal

Goals:

• Dealing with solos and Neo-corps
• File yet another report to Starlight with a sitrep ( mission update )
• contact Rya Mendez

Pending: see below

studying: Chinese Language

Study Chinese culture

Look into his option of identity printers later

Contacting: Tomas`

Trigger: Police contact ( Stress )

Vices:

Sex

Drugs

Goals:

1. To keep alive and recover the kid before the second team kills all of us
2. Contact Tomas and start the network

Charlie will continue to sit this one out, as a fixer he knew his role in running the shadows. With the air raft parked across the street charlie just made sure if that other team showed up that he had more than one avenue to egress from.

Once again he pulled out his phone and tapped away at the keys as the other make their way into the area that had been recently investigated.

Rya Mendez..... I hope that boy is in that space so we could wrap this job up before this team gets placed out of action permanently, Charile thought to himself.

Charile continued to watch the streets for another group to show up.... It was a matter of time, lack of trust and this type of ad hoc structure didn’t help them any. Time will tell.....

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Rya Mendez’s Listed Address - Outside on the Street  | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 7:43 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“So, we go pay this Marta a visit and see what we can learn, right?” Blossom remarks.

“Nicely?” Echo adds, moving from the driver’s seat so that Charlie can take possession of the air jeep once again. Standing in the misty morning air, the wind gusting about her, the nomad leans down so she can hear what the others are saying. “I’m not keen on roughing up a gray-hair.”

"Nicely," Bloodbank agrees, trying to put all his newfound conviction behind that single word.

"Ok, so we go in," Fixer states. "I'm guessing we still need someone to stay here and watch the door. Maybe give a warning if someone comes. We still have two of the walkies amongst us. They can be overheard, but even just a single word might give warning of the need for a different exit. So, whoever is planning this thing—who goes in and who watches?" 

"Glahn?" Bloodbank suggests. "You like keeping an eye on things from afar, right? Perhaps Blossom can accompany you? Maybe use some of that technological magic to keep an even broader eye out? I'd like to go in; following Cred-Stick's lead, I assume."

Bloodbank pauses here. There is a lot of distrust of Cred-Stick Charlie, something that Bloodbank doesn't quite understand. The group hasn't known each other much longer than they have known Charlie, after all. Everyone else in the group is almost just as much of an unknown as Charlie, and yet Bloodbank trusts them all with his life. He has to, just as they all have to trust him to have their back and to do his job.

Charlie's initial thought was that he will continue to sit this one out. As a fixer, he knows his role in running the Shadows. With the air jeep parked across the street, Charlie just has to make sure that if that other team shows up, he has more than one avenue to egress from. Once again he pulls out his phone and taps away at the touch screen keys as the others make their plans to enter the building... at least, until his name is used by the MedTech.

"After all," The MedTech continues. "He's been very effective so far."

"Alright," Ghlahn declares, "I'll keep an eye on things. Fair warning, you touch my radio and you will end up dead. Not gonna repeat that last encounter. Just let me know when and where you plan on entering and I'll find an overwatch spot." This elicits a giggle from the netrunner.

Well, looks like I'm going in after all. The thought settles in a sour pool of distaste within the Fixer's mind. Rya Mendez... I hope that boy is in that space so we could wrap this job up before this team gets placed out of action permanently.

"We're going in the front door," Echo peers at Ghlahn over the edge of the ruddy balaclava keeping the pollutants at bay. "The gray-hair lives on the sixth floor."

"Where we off too, Bubbles?" Blossom chirps at the sniper while smiling around her lolli-stick.

(OOC: Making a decision for the group to move things along. If this isn't something you'd do, let me know.)

Drawing in a deep breath through his filtration mask, Cred Stick Charlie looks down at the steering wheel wishing he was in a position where he didn't have to potentially put himself in the line of fire. But then, Starlight obviously wasn't in such a position and she was higher then he was on the ladder so such luxuries are obviously a ways off.

Ghlahn suggests that they wait to approach the building until he has procured a perch. He'll radio when he's settled. So, the group of Edgerunners wait as their party once again splits up.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

X00032:7.Y00001:12.Z00054:4, Building Across the Street from Rya Mendez's Listed Address  | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 7:50 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Blossom tagging along, Ghlahn makes his way to the building across the street from the target's. The best place for him to set up overwatch would be between the sixth and ninth floors as the building continues to vanish from view in the overhead smog and there is no obvious rooftop. The UrbanZone has its benefits. One is that a locked building door is rarely encountered. Hand close to his sidearm, enhanced vision sweeping the trash-filled lobby, M'harú Ghlahn quickly registers the sleeping forms of at least three people huddled under trash and old blankets. Rats also scurry about, jauntily moving through the debris at the edge of the room, scurrying into view and then hiding beneath boxes only to pop out again as they dart into the open, out-of-service elevator. Acidic ozone with a flush of urine odor penetrates the edgers masks and they hurry through the lobby to tackle the stairs. 

Still keeping an eye out for any trouble, the pair crest the second level and move on past the crumpled forms of more homeless. then the third floor, the fourth floor, the fifth floor, and finally up to the sixth floor. Here, the majority of the floor has been reconstituted by the builder nanites leaving a wide swath of space that's held up by support beams. Twilight ribbons of light penetrate the cavernous chamber from the windows on the street-facing wall which has been mostly boarded up, trash bags stretched across and secured with duct tape or spray-painted black. Each support column is roughly a meter squared and serve as a gathering point for garbage. Filtered aromas of human feces and mildew waft in through the edgerunner's masks as tiny flakes of dust drift in and out of the faint beams of light.

Activating his infrared vision, Ghlahn peers about the room while Blossom suppresses a cough. There are at least thirty people in this chamber, each of them appears to be huddled beneath their shelters of trash and still asleep. Motioning for the netrunner to be quiet, Ghlahn moves them up the stairs to the seventh floor and finally the eighth floor as the seventh was much the same as the sixth. 

The eighth-floor sports the type of landing the sniper was expecting. Unfortunately, upon opening the door that should lead to a hall and the conapts, he finds more of the bore out cavern he'd witnessed on the previous floors. Closing the door, he makes to head up to the ninth floor when Blossom catches his arm.

"As much as I hate to say this, cowboy," the war driver leans in and whispers, "we're burning daylight. Let's just go set up on the sixth and make at being homeless."

(OOC: I'm not going to assume that Ghlahn accepts this suggestion, but what I am going to do is move to the other group as they'll get the radio message that Ghlahn is set.)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5, Rya Mendez’s Listed Address | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 8:02 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15 mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

With Ghlahn and Blossom in position, the team files into the cramped seats of the air jeep. It makes sense to have their escape vehicle right outside the building they are heading into for easy access, and presentation does matter. Owning a vehicle means that you've some prestige among Edgerunners. Maybe even amongst the alt-cults.

Casino takes the lead, acting as Charlie's bodyguard. Charlie follows with Fixer and Bloodbank hot on his heels and Echo bringing up the rear. Stepping into the foyer, the team is struck by the relative cleanliness of the spacious fifteen-meters by twenty-meters entry. At one time, this building's interior decorating algorithm had designated the space industrial age suave but the nano-builders had left very little of the original decor in their reconstituting efforts. The residents, however, have added a few couches and some rickety tables whereupon chess sets are sitting mid-game. The elevator doors are propped open and a sign hangs on a rope in front of the gaping space that reads: Tiamat's Pool. The stairs are wide enough for three to walk abreast and are clear of homeless bodies and trash. 

Proceeding up the flights to their target conapt without impediment, the team takes the short hall to the front of the building and there, Charlie instructs his fellows to stand to the side enough that they won't be readily visible through the peephole in the door. With Casino on his right and Echo on his left (followed by Fixer and Bloodbank) pressed against the wall and out of the immediate line of sight, Charlie knocks.

Nothing. Luther knocks again and straightens his damp overcoat.

Still nothing. Dropping his gaze from the door, the fixer removes his fedora and presses his black hair back on his head in a smooth motion before knocking again.

"I don' know you. What do you want?" The voice barely drifts through the door but the edgers closest to it can easily tell that the speaker is older.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 08:10 AM PST)

Contris: Open

Tag: Brom Sal

Goals:

• Dealing with solos and Neo-corps
• find the kid and not get killed
• Make contact with Rya

Pending: see below

studying: Chinese Language

Study Chinese culture

Look into his option of identity printers later

Contacting: Tomas`

Trigger: Police contact ( Stress )

Vices: semi active

Sex

Drugs

Goals:

1. To keep alive and recover the kid before the second team kills all of us
2. Contact Tomas and start the network
3. Contact Rya
4. not in order......

Fast talk & persuasion of 19

“ Rya?.... Is that you?”

waits.....

“ I’m Mr body....as in Nobody, so let me set this straight. All comms have been compromised, I’m playing clean up man for god know who and why things are messed up I don’t know, Questions are above my pay grade so don’t ask Choomba. So either you or Rya open this door up now or you can take the heat because this kitchen is now on fire, you feel me, Player.  

If you want to call someone and let them know where the kids is at, please go right ahead so that I can leave this place and read about it in the screamsheet later, so... please do so.

Charile attempts to whisper in passive threats and confidence but what is a con man after all?.

Human perception 19

“ I’m here to move the kid, so that makes me the clean up as well as the bag man today.

Charile smiles a toothy grin that then the reefers would smile back at him for. And leans into the door

“ Clean, Fix, transport... as long as the creds are good, I’m .....

**Charlie would have done the  unthinkable if he was younger and stick one of his 100 credit shoes in the doorway but no dice here with a closed door.

*Charile Sighs aloud

“ ChOOmba, Are you really going to leave me out here in the hallway, don’t make me mess these Faux gator cut wing tips because I have no shame in taking it out of your cut, ¿Entiendes? (understand?/Spanish)”

Charlie begins to feel out the voice and attempts to cast doubt in hoping to prevent anyone on the other side of the door to check with others by telling them its all compromised.

Human perception 19

“ Look....I’m just one man.... You got the kid, lets get everyone to a safehouse, the quicker the better before the heat gets hotter”.

Charile places his hands on the metal frame of the door as if he was holding it up as he leaned into the door, then Charile looks down the hall pass casino and the others, acting as if they don’t exist, then turning his head back to the door.

“ Look man....”

*Charile then stand straighter and holds up his false credit stick so that if someone is watching they should be able to see the darker color of it.

“ I just want to do my job and get you, rya, the baby boy and anyone else out of here, pronto. You feel me? How many am I transporting today?. Look it don’t matter... just open up and let me in”

Address, X00032:8.Y00001:12.Z00054:5
| Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 08:10 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Taking the lead as Charlie’s bodyguard Casino had to stop himself from laughing. In reality, given different circumstances, he was the last person Charlie should want as a bodyguard. Casino was just as liable to kill him, then protect him.
However if this was the quickest way to recover this kid and get this run done then he was all for it. In his mind his real priority was to find Vegas and do some killing of the people holding him.

As the wanna be fixer banged on, hopefully the right door, Casino did as he was supposed to, looking at everything and everyone with his amped up vision.(*) Though his face was hidden behind the crow mask, his eyes were not, and as caught some people eye to eye, it was they who quickly looked away. Leaving nothing to chance anything he thought was out of the ordinary got a closer look from him using his telescopic vision. For now all he could do was act the part of Charlie’s ‘bodyguard’ and hope things moved along quickly…..

(*Using Awareness/Notice)