The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:20 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)

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(Casino)
"Damn, Fixer," the trench-coat wearing gunman curses and rolls out of the booth. "Stay here and cover me. I'm gonna try to talk to that guy leaving." Taking off the SMG and placing it at Fixer's side you catch the shifting of one of the club's security in your peripheral at—what you can only assume—is the distribution of weaponry. But without that very personnel moving to intercept, you continue with your hasty plan.

"Well, frag it," James mutters and shoulders Casino's SMG fully aware of the club's security starting to shift positions about the room. Racked his slide to make sure he had a clear round in the chamber the Tech attempts to snag the round that had been chambered as it's expelled, but misses by mere centimeters when the looming, shadowy figure of a well-clothed black man blocks the stage lighting just as Fixer grumbles, "Hope this don't go too far south."

"Good evening, sir," says the man who had just positioned himself at your left side, effectively caging you in the booth. "But it would appear that something here at the Rat Pack isn't to your satisfaction. If I may, I'd like to resolve your concern."

Casino moves quickly while attempting a non-threatening countenance. Despite your best efforts, it doesn't appear that Lady Luck is on your side.

"I'm not a threat," Casino calls over the music. "I'd just like to talk to Mr. Dog for a few moments, please."

Whether the note that Vegas provided set the mood, or the mobsters are really intent on painting the town red (with blood), doesn't matter. Casino is a large fellow dressed in all black with obvious cyber enhancements. These bodyguards, and Dauntless Dog, aren't surviving in a dark, dangerous world on luck alone. The tattooed Islander steps towards you, Casino, his right hand vanishing into his jacket with apparent boosted reflexes, but that's where it stays. His left hand is held up in a signal indicating that you should stop your advance. Meanwhile, the bodyguard has positioned himself between Dauntless Dog and the rest of the floor (which means he's between you, Fixer, and your line of sight on Dog). He too has his hand beneath his suitcoat. Dauntless Dog continues walking, not stopping, obviously determined to remove himself from the situation.

"Yo, bra," the Poly jerks his head up slightly with each word. "Best thing for you right now is to turn yourself around and go back to your drink."

Your attempts to gain audience with the private Dauntless Dog have very obviously failed, Casino. Awash in the oscillating cascade of dance floor lighting, you find yourself approximately five meters from the stocky Polynesian, and perhaps seven from the other bodyguard. Dauntless Dog is fast putting greater distance between you and will be past the concierge's podium and out the front door in less than ten seconds.

Vegas, you're approximately two-thirds of the way through with your serenade when all of this goes down. Unless you wish to end your performance early, you are unfortunately otherwise engaged.

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The Train | Night City Integrate | Undercity into Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 12:35 - 1:20 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)

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"We could start one of the garbage cans on fire as a distraction," Echo piped up.

Blossom smiled, "Yeah, that should work." Looking over at Bloodbank to confirm, she asked, "Whatdaya say, you up for playing arsonist? I'm thinking you set the fire, Bloodbank. Ghlahn will cover you if you run into trouble. Echo will stay close to me and watch my back while I'm driving in through the lock.

"Let do this."

A pleasant disembodied voice sounds throughout the grimy interior of the train car announcing the pending arrival at the train station.

"Sounds like a plan," Bloodbank responds confidently even though he feels a little reluctant. A trash fire in a public location such as the train station would likely not cause any injuries to innocent bystanders. His concerns rest more in the potential injuries he could sustain should he be spotted by security and forced to engage. But, this was the job and it sure beat hanging out in an emergency room taking orders from a pompous surgeon with a God complex. The medtech mentally reviews his kit for the components to carry out his end of the plan. "Anyone got a lighter?"

"I do," Echo says softly and immediately searches in her bag to produce the small waterproof device and then surreptitiously hands it over to the medtech.

"Fine," Ghlahn gives in to the plan. "I'll stand off a few meters and try to put myself between you and security. You're gonna need to light that can and get out of there quick so as not to attract attention. Best to hit a can further away from the gate, maybe towards the front of the platform."

"What about security cameras?" Echo asks, looking to Blossom for her expertise.

"What about those cameras," Echo asked, looking to Blossom for some thoughts.

"Not sure, really," Blossom turned the sucker around in her mouth with her tongue. "I'm not going to be able to hack in, so we're going to need to do it old school. Maybe we can use a flashlight or laser light to blind the ones near the can? What do you guys think? I've got a flashlight someone can borrow."

For Casino time seemed to stop as Dauntless continued to the door, his bodyguards took up positions of protection, and even the club security was moving to intervene. And through all of this Vegas kept blaring out that damn song. Give him his due, he was good, but now was not the fracking time to be singing.

Having no real choice but to back down, Casino raised his hands and slowly backed towards the table and Fixer. Sitting down he again kept his hands in plain view knowing that club security would ease off seeing him no longer posing a threat. Yeah he and Vegas were well known here, but security was security, and no matter who it was they would act as needed.

Turning to Fixer he mentioned to him to leave the MPK/Gren launcher where it sat so again not to inflame the situation worse. After all if he needed weapons fast he still had his two 44's under his arms and in this closed off of a space he‘d be better off using them if he had to.

"Ok I don't know what the hell Vegas wrote on that slip of paper but it looks to have pissed off Dog. We may not find any info here. You got any idea's?"

As Casino waited for Fixer's answer he watched Vegas continue to sing and made a note to talk to him alone later.....

"Good evening, sir," says the man who had just positioned himself at your left side, effectively caging you in the booth. "But it would appear that something here at the Rat Pack isn't to your satisfaction. If I may, I'd like to resolve your concern."

"Satisfaction's great, friend," James spoke as he took this new factor into the equation. It threw his current predictions into turmoil. "Just my impulsive companion."

James did his best to keep Casino in his field of view while this crony was doing his best to keep James in check. It was a little game that was being played. The tattooed fellow's hand slips into his jacket with boosted reflexes; his other hand came up as if to halt Casino in his path. Casino stood between him and the man, so he could not see his lips to read; they were too far away and too much noise going on to catch what was being said as well. Even his enhanced senses did not help him here.

Casino turned and came back to the table, Fixer letting his uzi once again slip beneath his jacket in what may appease the security. "No situation here."

"Ok I don't know what the hell Vegas wrote on that slip of paper but it looks to have pissed off Dog. We may not find any info here. You got any idea's?" Casino said as he came back to the table.

"Just.....," he said as he trailed off in a moment of thought, "well, wait for Vegas up there to finish up and pursue any other leads." With this, Fixer pulls out his agent and attempts to use it to locate any cameras that may be nearby. If Dog would not let them follow him then perhaps the cameras would tell them where he went.

(OOC: Okay, going to try and use my agent's security location feature to find some cameras to jack into.)

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:22 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)

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"Good evening, sir," says the man who had just positioned himself at your left side, effectively caging you in the booth. "But it would appear that something here at the Rat Pack isn't to your satisfaction. If I may, I'd like to resolve your concern."

"Satisfaction's great, friend," James spoke as he took this new factor into the equation. It threw his current predictions into turmoil. "Just my impulsive companion."

The security guard doesn't even bother to look Casino's direction, but nods his head as though he completely understands the dilemma Fixer finds himself in. Perhaps he does, after all, this is a regular hang out for the two solos.

"Very well," the man intones.

Casino turns back to the table and Fixer allows his Uzi to once again slip beneath his jacket. "No situation here."

"That's right decent of you," Security smiles and abruptly turns to walk away.

Having wisely stepped down when confronted by the two bodyguards, Casino returns to the booth and settles back into the cushioned bench seat. Before Fixer can return his SMG to him, the large solo shakes his head and briefly explains that they best leave it be for the time being.

"Ok I don't know what the hell Vegas wrote on that slip of paper," Casino grumbles and casts a glare his partner's way from the corner of his eye. "But it looks to have pissed off Dog. We may not find any info here. You got any ideas?"

"Just..." Fixer trails off in a moment of thought, "Well, wait for Vegas up there to finish up and pursue any other leads." With this, Fixer pulls out his agent and activates the AI. A couple of quick menu options and he's pulled up his security scanner feature.

The graphic display is that of a pulsing sonar blip that almost immediately returns a number of camera locations about the room, but no listening devices. Fixer instructs the device to expand its scan to the full 100 meter range. This will place the furthest reaches of the device's scan outside of the building and back on the street. Perhaps if he can locate a camera, Blossom might have a chance of tapping into the system remotely, This was one of those times that Fixer wished the agent was a little more versatile. He had purchased the luxury line and it was extremely useful, but the limitations on the security scanner—even the top of the line version—were that while it could locate security systems, bugs, and trackers, it just wasn't a netrunner. The effort was all for naught anyway as the results showed the techie that there weren't any cameras outside the Rat Pack to begin with.

Vegas wraps up and the crowded night club erupts in clapping and cheering. The dapper solo's performance had been enough to please the crowd though he doubts that any will remember it as one of his best. Taking his bow, he smiles and tips his hat to those in the booths and then again to those on the dance floor. With a smile cutting his rugged features the man performs a little additional soft shoe eliciting another round of applause as he dances off stage. With the MC taking control of the mic once again, Vegas drops the performance and makes his way quickly across the fringes of the dance floor and slides up next to Chela just as she finishes collecting some empty glasses from a table occupied by a very overweight, bald caucasian fellow with beady, watery eyes and a ruddy complexion entertaining two beautiful Asian girls in flapper dresses.

"Is there anyone here who knows where Dog and his gang would hole up to lay low from any heat?" he asks the pretty girl in a low voice whispered close to her ear.

"You are incorrigible, Mr. Vegas," Chela whispers with a little heat. "I don't know what you wrote on that napkin, and I don't wanna. Whatever it was coulda blown up and then where would I be? Where would you and your friends be? I told you that Dauntless Dog was bad news.

"I'm sorry Vegas, but I've already extended my neck too much. Sé que cuando no bailar con el diablo. And so should you!" That being said, she shoulders past the suit and walks purposefully towards the bar.

Left with no other options, Vegas calmly returns to the booth and smoothly settles onto the bench next to Casino.

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The Train | Night City Integrate | Midcity into High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:22 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)

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"What about those cameras," Echo asked, looking to Blossom for some thoughts.

"Not sure, really," Blossom turned the sucker around in her mouth with her tongue. "I'm not going to be able to hack in, so we're going to need to do it old school. Maybe we can use a flashlight or laser light to blind the ones near the can? What do you guys think? I've got a flashlight someone can borrow."

"It don't matter whether you blind the cameras or not," Ghlahn sneers. "You gotta get close enough to ‘em to do so, and that means they're seeing you. Besides, we haven't been overly concerned with being caught on camera up to this point." He looks purposefully towards the front of the train car and then the rear to emphasize his point. It's a well known fact that cameras are placed within the casings of the cars at both points.

Echo sighs, "I hate to admit it, but I think he's right."

"Right or wrong, it doesn't matter much now," Bloodbank offers a small smile. "We're about to arrive. I guess the plan stands as is."

[Ding, Ding] Arriving at Night City Integrate, High City, Station 515. Please secure all belongings and prepare for the train to stop. [Ding, Ding]

Momentum shifts and you all feel the deceleration immediately. Your bodies lean towards the front of the train car causing Blossom to slide into Bloodbank a little while Echo and Ghlahn brace themselves against the draw. Metal on metal screeches accompanied by the sound of the hydraulic brakes. The train lurches once, twice, and then slows to a mere crawl. Finally, it comes to a complete stop and the lighting in the car increases by a couple of lumens before the doors slide open revealing a bustling platform.

Even at this time of the morning the residents of Night City Integrate are out en force. Mega Corps have learned that twenty-four seven shifts result in large profits, and the threat of being replaced by robots, AI, and software has pressured the everyday man into a labor situation that is barely above slavery, and for what? A conapt that barely supports their family, enough NCDs to keep them in kibble, but not enough to let them get ahead? That's why you Ride the Razor's Edge. The Grind isn't worth becoming a corpse over. If you're going to become a corpse, best be on your own terms.

The platform's lighting isn't much better than the train car's. The ceiling is three and a half meters overhead, tiled with large meter by meter white, polished ceramic plates that faintly reflect the swilling mass of humanity beneath it. Space just outside the train car is marked by a large yellow strip of painted tile that's stained with the many footprints and scuff marks indicative to a busy port of call. By rule, the space is clear for a time to allow departures room to move, but moments after the lot of you step foot into the stuffy confines of the station, dazzling, colorful waves of people rush to find their seats. The Masses hurrying to their workplaces in Midcity, or Under City. A sad and desperate herd of sheep.

Bloodbank, you lead Ghlahn to the right without so much as a glance at the ladies. You'd already decided not to drop your combat mask at this point lest you draw unwanted attention. True to form there are two security details positioned at the foot of the stairs leading off the platform. Each detail consists of four heavily armed and armored individuals with flat black battle masks and completely black uniforms. They are intimidating by design and armed with automatics—heavy assault rifles if you were to guess. Lethal solutions aside, you catch sight of at least one large, box-ended handgun at the hip of a soldier marked with sergeant stripes and immediately deduce that the weapon is their only non-lethal solution. A net dispenser, high-powered taser, or other such device.

Moving your gaze from the soldiers through the pillars and throng of people (something else to be grateful for) you are able to spot a trash unit located at the base of the first pillar. Too close, and too readily visible to the security. You focus in on the second pillar and find nothing, but the third pillar has another can. This positions you on the opposite side of the platform from where Blossom and Echo will be working their magic on the gate. Once that fire's lit, you'll need to cover close to 100 meters through what you hope will be a panicked crowd in order to rejoin them.

Ghlahn allows some distance to develop between himself and the medtech. He casually takes in the people churning on the platform, moving aside for those who are making their way onto the train. He calmly notes the positions of the security teams and quickly assesses the viability of his weaponry piercing their armor—His Nomad and Colt might be able to punch through their body armor, but there's an equal chance that they won't. He silently hoped that he wouldn't have to find out. Shifting his rifle's weight on his back, the sniper pulls out his agent and begins to play around on it as though he's reviewing some important details, and he waits.

Echo also notes the positions of the security teams, their armor, and their weaponry. Her blood is pumping as she accompanies Blossom through the crowd to the left side of the platform. If things go south, they won't stand a chance against the black-garbed brutes at the foot of the stairs; she doesn't care how much of a cocky S.O.B. Ghlahn is, he couldn't be that good. Their path is direct, but Echo also makes an effort to steer them in a less than straight line in case their behavior trigger behavioral monitors in the cameras and alert the guards. To the right a few meters, then straight towards the wall, back to the left a meter, then back towards the gate, the two of you progress across the forty meters or so without incident. Echo shares a look with Blossom when they stop near the gate and then turns and attempts to take up a casual, patient stance that won't draw attention to the pair of them.

Blossom, it isn't hard to pick out the security even though the mass of humanity between you and them is mostly taller than you. Glimpses of their daunting black uniforms cut through the crowd like lasers through flesh as you follow Echo on her sporadically straight path towards the gate. Having placed the apparent potential enemies, you turn your attention towards the gate. Sure enough, there's a camera overhead covering that vicinity, but there's nothing to be done about that now unless you wish to draw attention to yourself, activate one of your constructs to deal with it (which would likely draw unwanted attention), or spend time trying to wardrive that system. The gate security was the true target.

The security system and lock is wall mounted next to the black-painted iron gate. The closer you come to it, the more you realize you'll need to bypass the lower maintenance panel on the access pad and link in. At least, you hope there's a dataport in that panel. Your right hand slips into your Gibson Combat Jacket pocket and slim fingers wrap about your Swiss Army Knight finding the screwdriver by touch and working it open.

Arriving at the garbage can, you, Bloodbank, refrain from looking about which could draw unwanted attention from the behavioral monitoring systems within the cameras. You thumb the catch on the waterproof lighter that Echo loaned you and then produce the lighter in your left hand, reaching towards the open mouth of the garbage can as though you're going to throw something away.

Human beings are reliable trash producers. Fast food wrappers, disposable cups, printed datasheets, consumable waste. And in a public place such as the train platform at Station 515 such waste is prevalent. One flick of your thumb and the lid to the lighter is lifted revealing the sparking device. One very quick roll of your thumb along the ridged edge of the mechanism followed by the feeling of a click (the crowded platform is too noisy to hear it) and you sense the heat from the erupting flame lick at your knuckles followed by a sudden roar of flames that cause you to reflexively dance back from the canister.

The fire is started, but the reaction is not one of panic. The reaction from the nearby crowd is more like that of a group of people who suddenly find themselves in proximity to a really foul-smelling person behaving poorly. They shuffle back from the sputtering, dancing flames and look at it with apprehension, curiosity, and mild annoyance creating a berth about the can of approximately two meters while at the same time some declare statements of,

"Someone set the garbage on fire."

"This better not delay the train."

"Really? Just one day, one day is all I ask for!"

Then the smoke hits the detector and the alarm begins to sound while the lights brighten to a red hue and begin to slowly flash.

As Blossom exited the train, she casually mingled into the crowd of people on the platform, weaving her way through towards the maintenance gate in a way that she hoped wouldn't catch the attention of security. The smell here was slightly better than the undercity, and the air was noticeably less oppressive.

Arriving at the gate, she tried to discreetly remove the panel. Her mind was out-of-focused though, and she fumbled with getting set up drive the lock. Akira! she could hear her mom's voice for a moment. High City air always trigger memories of her past.

The wardriver rolled her head trying to shake off the ghosts of her past. "Stay here, Akira!" she scolded herself softly. "Time to work."

She attached the trodes the hardpoint on the access panel and prepared to drive in hard. Wiz was loading up and she was ready to go. Rolling the lollipop around in her mouth one more time, she whispered, "Let's see whatcha g,"

Access denied, Error 5431. pinged in her ears and flashed before eyes. "Wai, wha,?" Blossom wondered quietly, the lollipop rolled around once more as she send in Wiz for another round.

Access denied, Error 5431, pinged again. Blossom ran the error code through her agent.

Error 5431 indicates that the hard point connection is loose or damaged. Retry connecting or repair the hard point. Blossom looked down at her trodes and tried to get a better connection.

Access denied, Error 5431, pinged again. Exploring the hard point access a bit more, Blossom discovered that one port wasn't allowing the trode to catch.

Frack!!! The wardriver cursed under her breath. Quickly, she recalled Wiz, retrieved her trodes, and fixed the panel up once more. Turning around, she found Bloodbank and Ghlahn approaching.

As the four gathered together under the flashing red alarm light, Blossom shook her head and tried to speak as quietly as she could while still communicating to her companions over the sound of the alarm. "It's no good. The hard point's damaged here. Time to think quick, gatos!"

Looking around, Blossom tried to quickly assess the situation. "Here's the deal: We're not getting past the security with our guns unless we got the docs to go with them. So, call it off and go home empty; OR go with Ghlahn's plan, ride the top to the other side of the gate, drop down and move on."

"I hate myself already, but I'm for trying Ghlahn's plan. I hate going home empty."

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:40 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 as he waited for Vegas to finish his song, yet underneath he was not happy with his partner. They were here to get info on the kidnapped boy, and though he had been coaxed up on stage, Vegas should have politely declined. This was no time to be singing, no matter how good Vegas was at it.

As his partner finally sat back down the large edgerunner turned to him and Fiver.

"What did you write on that napkin Vegas? Whatever it was it pissed Dauntless Dog right off and out of the club. There went any possible info, so what now?"

Fixer sighed as the search came back up with not what he was hoping for. He knew he wasn't a netrunner that could hack through security with ease, but he knew his way a bit around tech. There were cameras inside the club but none outside. It appeared as if luck would not be a lady this night. All the guys and dolls of the club though seemed to be enjoying Vegas's tune though. The fancied up solo was soon done with his number and joined the other two down on the floor.

".....what now?" came out of Casino's lips.

"Ran a scan for possible cameras I could have looked into splicing in on to get vid on which way y'alls man was headed, but aint none outside of this place." Fixer admitted the failed plan to his companions. "At least none the security scanner could pick up anyways. Time to try some different leads?"

James already had funds invested in this run and did not want to keep hitting dead ends or else they may have to do some bad things for the cash needed to keep on. Or if nothing else, he could do some handiman work to keep the kibble flowing, but that did not appeal to him at all.

Vegas was in his element singing and dancing, but his performance was all a part of providing a way to mix and mingle among the throngs of Rat Packers, without raising any undo suspicions.

Chela was obviously giving him the cold shoulder, but she would come around in time. He knew she was not used to being in the line of fire so to speak, other than being pawed at by the clientele she served drinks to, which was all part of the job.

Vegas understood that the waitress feared for his life, so she would be glad to see him alive, whenever he and Casino chose to return to the Rat Pack at a later date.

Meanwhile, it was time to compare notes with his two partners, so he returned to their booth, where he was immediately confronted by his long time partner Casino:

"What did you write on that napkin Vegas? Whatever it was it pissed Dauntless Dog right off and out of the club. There went any possible info, so what now?"

Vegas grinned at Casino and shot back a question of his own:

"What did you see while I was working the crowd to give you the time to quietly check things and the Rat Packers around the room?"

((OOC: Awaits an answer from Casino before proceeding))

"I Thought So!

"As for your question about the Note, I purposely pushed his button by asking 'Where would I find some fresh and untainted young boy?'

"Chela steered me in his direction when I wanted to know who in this club was into young boys?"

Looking over at Fixer, the Dapper Solo directed a question his way:

"Fixer, were you able to get a bead on the identities of Dog and His Boys?

"Looks like we are going hunting tonight, but first we need to give Dog a bit of running room, Because We Still Need the Taser and Grenades!"

Vegas stood up and looked around the room, his drink in hand, before offering a further explanation:

"We Still Need the Taser and Grenades! Time for me to mingle with the Rat Packers to see if any of my 'Adoring Fans' may have something to share that might give us a lead, while we are waiting on Starlight to deliver the goods!"

He leans in towards his two partners with a tip of his fedora, "Dog should be easy enough to find, especially with the way he left in such in hurry!

"Either of you have a better suggestion, or possibly a contact or two who may be able to help?"

Then the Frank Sinatra look-alike made his way among the crowd of Rat Packers, hopeful that someone would strike up a conversation that would possibly uncover a lead, while Casino and Fixer decided what to do to find the missing boy.

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:50 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)
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"What did you write on that napkin Vegas? Whatever it was it pissed Dauntless Dog right off and out of the club. There went any possible info, so what now?"

Vegas grinned at Casino and shot back a question of his own:

"What did you see while I was working the crowd to give you the time to quietly check things and the Rat Packers around the room?"

Casino said nothing in reply but his ears went red and the big solo could feel the burn of embarrassment. Vegas must have seen the poker game and knew right away that his attention would be drawn there first before anything else. Leaning back in the booth he remained quiet.

"I Thought So!"

"As for your question about the Note, I purposely pushed his button by asking 'Where would I find some fresh and untainted young boy? Chela steered me in his direction when I wanted to know who in this club was into young boys?"

At this Casino did reply trying to cool his ears and cover his lapse in judgment and embarrassment and get the three of them back on track. Leaning forward, his elbows on the table, he replied loud enough for only Fixer, Vegas and himself could hear.

"Well damn it Vegas next time at least tell Fixer and I what you have planned so I don't go off half cocked and almost get us in a firefight. Yeah I f***ed up and got distracted, no excuse. But not telling us what YOU had planned almost got us all in a world of hurt. Just next time talk to us ok?" Leaning back into the leather of the booth once more he took a small drink from the glass in front of him listening to Vegas grill Fixer.

Vegas stood up and looked around the room, his drink in hand, before offering a further explanation:

"Looks like we are going hunting tonight, but first we need to give Dog a bit of running room, Because We Still Need the Taser and Grenades! Time for me to mingle with the Rat Packers to see if any of my 'Adoring Fans' may have something to share that might give us a lead, while we are waiting on Starlight to deliver the goods!"

He leans in towards his two partners with a tip of his fedora.

"Dog should be easy enough to find, especially with the way he left in such in hurry!
Either of you have a better suggestion, or possibly a contact or two who may be able to help?"

Still semi-sulking Casino shook his head no and watched as Vegas headed off into the crowd to try to get more information.

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:25 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)

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"What did you write on that napkin Vegas?" Casino growls the instant his partner slides onto the faux leather bench seat. "Whatever it was it pissed Dauntless Dog right off and out of the club. There went any possible info, so what now?"

Vegas grins, "What did you see while I was working the crowd to give you the time to quietly check things and the Rat Packers around the room?"

The leather-clad solo visibly shrinks as his ears and cheeks flush with color.

"I Thought So!

"As for your question about the Note, I purposely pushed his button by asking 'Where would I find some fresh and untainted young boy?' Chela steered me in his direction when I wanted to know who in this club was into young boys?"

Casino leans forward, his elbows on the table, and replies in a decibel that he hoped wouldn't carry beyond the table, "Well, damn it Vegas! Next time at least tell Fixer and I what you have planned so I don't go off half-cocked and almost get us in a firefight. Yeah, I f***ed up and got distracted—no excuse. But not telling us what YOU had planned almost got us all in a world of hurt. Just next time talk to us, OK?"

Vegas softens his smile a bit and absently runs his fingers along the lip of the glass Chela had brought over for him as he provides his friend a "fair enough" nod. Turning his lazy gaze to Fixer, the Dapper Solo directs the next question his way.

"Fixer, were you able to get a bead on the identities of Dog and His Boys?"

"Ran a scan for possible cameras I could have looked into splicing in on to get vid on which way y'alls man was headed," the techie offers up in response. "But ain't none outside of this place. At least none the security scanner could pick up anyways. Time to try some different leads?"

"Looks like we are going hunting tonight," Vegas takes a deep breath and keeps his smile. "But first we need to give Dog a bit of running room, and we still need the taser and grenades so we can't exactly leave yet." The Sinatra Clone stands and scans the chromatically lit club with his baby blues, his drink in hand, for a few seconds. "Time for me to mingle with the Rat Packers to see if any of my 'Adoring Fans' may have something to share that might give us a lead while we are waiting on Starlight to deliver the goods."

He leans in towards his two partners with a tip of his fedora, "Dog should be easy enough to find, especially with the way he left in such in hurry! Either of you have a better suggestion, or possibly a contact or two who may be able to help?"

Casino shakes his head no, and Vegas takes Fixer's silent stare as one whose immediate options have expired. Righting himself, the Frank Sinatra look-alike turns and makes his way onto the dance floor where the Rat Packers he's been referring to are swaying to the doleful sounds of "Everybody Loves Somebody" being sung by a fellow done up like Dean Martin.

Starlight had stated that she'd be a couple of hours retrieving the taser and grenades. Add in travel time and it's a safe bet that she won't be showing up at the club until close to 2:30 AM. That leaves a lot of time to mingle, brainstorm additional plans of action, get drunk, or go hit the poker game in the back room. The actual task of gathering information was always made to seem easy on the holovids and in the various media outlets that clogged the Net. But the three of you are fast finding that the value of a proper fixer is more than just appropriating goods.

Vegas, you single out a lovely young lady with silver-white TechHair® styled in a glorious beehive do with bright red lips and rose red eyeshadow and thick, white eyelashes. She's wearing a black red rose floral halter Cannes swing dress that reveals the Incan death mask light tattoo on her right shoulder blade. Her feet and lower legs are covered by bright red go go boots with four-inch heels.

Catching her eye you deftly sashay up next to the bloke she had been dancing with—a middle-aged man in a black and white bowling shirt with red lettering across the back spelling out the words "Too MUCH" and white slacks. He wears no socks and has black and white bowling shoes to match his shirt. His exposed forearms are heavily inked and his slicked back black hair and small mustache make him appear to be Cuban. Whether or not he actually is, well, that's nothing to be concerned with.

"Hello, Mr. Chairman," the woman's voice is sweet sugar, sultry and dripping. She deftly dips her head and looks at you from beneath those long, white lashes while hooking her hands behind her back and continuing to sway her hips. "Nice song."

"Mind if I cut in, chap?" Vegas doesn't even bother to look at the man he's forcing out. "Thanks, doll. What's yer moniker? Let me guess: Rose Red? Petal?"

She giggles responsively and leans forward to whisper seductively, "I'm Dimple."

"Hey buddy," the bowler puts his hand on Vegas' shoulder and squeezes ever so lightly. "I was dancin' with her so why don'tcha beat it!"

"Look fella," Vegas still refuses to take his eyes off of the pretty little thing in front of him. "It ain't nothing, ya know? Just a dance. I'm sure Miss Dimple'll be happy to pick up with you again another time." Then to Dimple, he continues his flirtation. "But honey, I don't think I see any dimples."

"Oh, they ain't up here Sugar," she giggles and points to her right cheek with a long, thin finger.

Seeing that he'd been bested, Bowler skiddadles leaving the two to continue their dance. From your vantage at the booth, Fixer and Casino, Bowler doesn't look too happy to have lost his dame. The scowl on his face is evident and the occasional glances he throws over his shoulder are accented by the hunch to his shoulders and his clenched fists. Watching him stride across the dance floor requires you, Fixer, to turn in your seat and drape your left arm over the back of the bench seat. Casino, you've retained a clear view without so much as having to tilt your head. Bowler is not alone.

At his table sits five more slick-dressed bowling fanatics and five more women dressed in similar style to the one Vegas has intercepted. Bowler stops at the edge of the booth rather than dropping into the seat and places both fists knuckle down on the surface of the table as he leans in. Whatever he says draws the attention of his booth-mates towards Vegas and the dame.

Vegas, your dance is going well. Dimples is very flirtatious, and seems to be very interested in you. Good old Sinatra Charm. The small talk is easy to control, and the swaying back and forth while standing opposite each other quickly turns into your left hand on the curve of her lower back while the right continues to hold the drink and your feet guide you both smoothly about the dance floor.

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The Train | Night City Integrate | Midcity into High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:25 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)

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The wardriver rolls her head and mutters to herself, "Stay here, Akira! Time to work."

The command goes unheard by Echo over the noise of the platform and the cries of "Fire!"
Blossom attaches the trodes to the hardpoint on the access panel and prepares to drive in hard. Wiz quickly loaded up displaying the familiar face of the program across her personal visual display. Rolling the lollipop around in her mouth one more time, she whispers, "Let's see whatcha g,"

Access denied, Error 5431.

"Wai, wha,?" Blossom wonders quietly, the lollipop rolling around once more as she sends Wiz in for another round.

Access denied, Error 5431.

Acting quickly, fingers flying across the smart keyboard she'd called up from her left hand bracer, Blossom runs the error code through her Magnanimous Charisma Luxury Agent. Error 5431 indicates that the hard point connection is loose or damaged. Retry connecting or repair the hard point.
Blossom immediately begins inspecting her trodes, jiggling them about a bit in search of a better connection.

"What's going on?" Echo asks, but Blossom is engaged in sending her Wizard's Book program to work once again and doesn't answer.

Access denied, Error 5431.

This time the netrunner pops her trodes from the ports and explores the hard point access in more detail. One port wasn't allowing the trode to catch.

"Frack!!!" The wardriver curses under her breath.

"What?" This time Echo was paying attention to Blossom's quiet commentary.

Activating the macro command to recall the Wizard's Book software, Blossom retrieves her trodes and fixes the panel plate over the hardpoint access once more. She doesn't bother tightening the screws that hold the plate in place, but turns them just enough to not fall out. Deactivating her smart keyboard the netrunner turns just in time to greet Bloodbank and Ghlahn with a tight-lipped look of disappointment.

The four gather together under the flashing red alarm light and Blossom shakes her head. "It's no good." she reports in a voice that requires them to lean in towards her in order to hear. "The hardpoint's damaged here. Time to think quick, gatos!"

Looking around, Blossom quickly assess the situation. "Here's the deal: We're not getting past the security with our guns unless we got the docs to go with them. So, call it off and go home empty; or go with Ghlahn's plan, ride the top to the other side of the gate, drop down, and move on.

"I hate myself already, but I'm for trying Ghlahn's plan. I hate going home empty."

Bloodbank mentally calculates the height of the train and the amount of distance they would need to cover in order to clear the fence. Gigs weren't easy to come by and letting this one flatline already isn't something that he relishes. "All right. Ghlahn's way it is," he agrees.

"This is how it goes down then," the sniper takes momentary command. "The ripdoc puts his back against the train and I'll run towards him. Bloodbank, I'm gonna frackin' climb you and you're gonna have to catch my initial foot and help lift me at the same time. My momentum plus your lift should be enough to get me on the roof.

"Once there, I'll spin around and be ready to catch the hand of our little lollipop suckin' geek. You're gonna have to frackin' do the same thing I just did, and you too nomad. Then, our ripperdoc friend'll have to get his own running head start and we'll lift him."

"Have you done this before?" Echo's brow furrows.

"Naw," Ghlahn smiles dismissively. "Saw it on a S.W.A.T. documentary once though."

With that, he gives Bloodbank a little motion with his head indicating that he should get moving. The medtech shakes his head a little and silently offers up a prayer to the Universe as he runs towards the train. Over Ghlahn's shoulder, Blossom can see that one of the security teams has moved quickly towards the burning can, but hasn't seemed to take notice of your group yet.

Then Ghlahn is off at a sprint, running directly at the braced Bloodbank who has his hands together between his thighs, fingers laced, his bag hanging below his back. Echo whispers something that Blossom doesn't pick up as her attention becomes riveted to the action unfolding before her.

The first part of M'harú Ghlahn's plan goes off without a hitch. He plants his left boot firmly into Bloodbank's clasped hands and as the medtech lifts, he brings his right foot up to Bloodbank's left shoulder, and then leaps and is thrown up to a position where he can grip the roof of the train. Pulling himself to the roof, the black fatigue-wearing soldier quickly spins around on his belly and looks up towards the women with his hands out waiting.

With one final look towards the security team (who all still seem to be unaware of what's happening on the opposite side of the platform), Blossom takes off at a sprint towards Bloodbank and the train, her heavy bag bouncing against her back. It takes a little adjusting, but the netrunner is able to follow Ghlahn's example and through the blur of her actions she feels Bloodbank's strength as he pushes her up and Ghlahn's as he pulls her onto the train.

"Frack, woman!" the snipers huffs as her weight leaves his hands and she rolls onto the roof. "What've you got in that bag! Feels like you weigh a frackin' ton."

(OOC: You can offer up a brief response if you desire,)

Blossom, you don't have a lot of space up there on the train's roof. The tunnel's ceiling is low and requires you to belly crawl, pressing your exposed flesh against the chilly metal of the roof's surface as you make great time in closing the distance you need to cover. Peering over the edge of the train towards the maintenance path on the other side of the gate the distance you're going to have to drop looks much higher than it did getting up there. Sure, it's an optical thing, but nonetheless the distance is intimidating.

Echo's run is smooth as silk. She moves like a cat with grace and athleticism as she runs towards you, Bloodbank. Then her boot is in your hands and you're lifting her over your head to almost immediately experience the elimination of her weight as Ghlahn pulls her up. Pushing from the side of the train, you rush forward a few meters before turning and sprinting back towards the train.

"You, there! On the train! Surrender now!" The security team has noticed, or been informed, of your activities and their enhanced voice commands your immediate compliance.

Fixer turned in his seat as we watched the fellow walk away once he saw he had been bested by Vegas. There was a small smile of smugness on Fixer's face as he saw the punk's mood. Not at all too happy. The lady was a bit of a looker as well to put the icing on the cake. At the table he left for sat a set of five couples; five more men and five women. As the man said something, the attention of near a dozen boosters fixed on Vegas, and Fixer knew that there could soon be a problem.

"This is something that perhaps we could head off," Fixer spoke to Casino, "I've seen these boosters around. The gang calls themselves Grease Monkeys, and our companion broke up what seemed to be a couple's dance."

*May Casino interject at any time*

"All six males are packin' light pistols that I can make out, nothing heavy. I can make out three of em boosted with cybe. An arm that may conceal something nastier. An optic - which may or may not have a dartshooter. And lastly, a neural implant which may indicate a smartgun link.

"One of the female companion has scratchers imbedded in her hand with another sporting a protection field harness - give us a nasty shock if we're too close when she sets it off.

"How do you want to do this. Aint ever have to blast these boosters, but aint got nothing against it."

Fixer's tone was completely analytical as he took in the situation and sharing his observations. He was just straightforward.

The Rat Pack Night Club | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 1:30 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)
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"Time for me to mingle with the Rat Packers to see if any of my 'Adoring Fans' may have something to share that might give us a lead, while we are waiting on Starlight to deliver the goods! Dog should be easy enough to find, especially with the way he left in such in hurry! Either of you have a better suggestion, or possibly a contact or two who may be able to help?"

Casino shakes his head no, and Vegas takes Fixer's silent stare as one whose immediate options have expired. Righting himself, the Frank Sinatra look-alike turns and makes his way onto the dance floor where the Rat Packers he's been referring to are swaying to the doleful sounds of "Everybody Loves Somebody" being sung by a fellow done up like Dean Martin.

As Casino watched, Vegas moved into the crowd and charmed his way between a pretty young lady and her date? boyfriend? client? and start dancing. This time having been reminded what was more important then a card game he kept his eyes on the jilted beau as he moved over to a table of five friends. Looking closer he knew them, Grease Monkey's.

As he watched, the big Solo could tell that the gang of five were not happy with Vegas's cock block of the middle aged club member. Yet he wasn't sure if it was due to Vegas cutting in or the girl's flirty reaction to the Frank Sinatra lookalike‘s charm.. For the moment having no idea of the six pack members intentions or what was going to happen next all he could do was watch. He knew what hidden lethality waited behind the Rat Packs closed doors.

It was then that Fixer at his side turned to him and leaned in to be heard. Clearly the techie noticed the same.

"This is something that perhaps we could head off," Fixer spoke to Casino, "I've seen these boosters around. The gang calls themselves Grease Monkeys, and our companion broke up what seemed to be a couple's dance. All six males are packin' light pistols that I can make out, nothing heavy. I can make out three of em boosted with cybe. An arm that may conceal something nastier. An optic - which may or may not have a dartshooter. And lastly, a neural implant which may indicate a smartgun link. One of the female companion has scratchers imbedded in her hand with another sporting a protection field harness - give us a nasty shock if we're too close when she sets it off. How do you want to do this. Aint ever have to blast these boosters, but aint got nothing against it."

Turning his head to look at the techie, Casino was impressed very fracking impressed he had to admit. He had noticed them but no where near the way Fixer had. Looking more closely he tried to pick out what the techie had said. After a few moments of looking Casino slowly took hold of his SMG, moving it closer to his side. Turning to Fixer he spoke.

"Yeah I know e'm too, bad news all around, but we stay put. This place has both non-lethal security you can see and a very lethal sec force you don‘t. Trust me the lethal ones are damn good. If anything starts we let them deal with it and only get involved if it's life or death for Vegas. You packing anything but that SMG? Not the best place for a sub gun if things go to s*** and we have no choice but to act."

(OOC: If he does not I'll pass him one of my 44's and put the other in my lap as unobtrusive as possible)

Fixer looked at casino with a small smirk, "I will just put it on semi if you're worried about too many rounds going through a crowded place. I've got an autopistol but it ain't carryin the DP rounds that I've got in the uzi."

Fixer showed his side piece and that it was nothing special.

(Fixers side piece is a militech arms avenger, both it and the uzi are linked smartguns.)

Ghlahn heard the voice and knew they had been caught even before the words finished. "Well, do we go quietly or not?" he whispered to his compatriots. How had the security been so alert? They were never that observant. Had someone else alerted them? If they had, they would regret it.