The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Preacher sniffed and suppressed a cough brought on by the sting in the air. Looking out from beneath the rain pouring off the brim of his hat, the gunslinger pulled his sunglasses down a bit and eyed Coyote. Time was ticking and if they didn’t get things underway soon—“Hey, pardn’r,” Preacher intoned suddenly. Over Coyote’s shoulder he saw Spiff, Peacekeeper, and Firewind make their way up the stoop. “Looks like we might be a bit too late.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Mr. Bald and Pierced blinked and frowned a bit. “Stallion’s waitin’ on you three? He never told me.”

Peacekeeper tensed as the hall filled up with Wild Things. There were men and women alike wearing leather, chains, steel plating, and carrying matching weapons. The gangers didn’t look as though they weren’t buying Spiff’s story and she had to give it to him; he’d gotten them in the door, but the atmosphere certainly wasn’t as friendly as one could have hoped. She knew that one wrong statement could send the whole lot of them into a flurry of lead.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am

Firewind definitely felt out of place in the situation. He still stood ready to do whatever was needed. His primary goal was to get out of this situation alive preferably with the mission accomplished. He hoped all the time spent at the range with his mentor would pay off. He knew that his skill with a pistol would amaze people who knew his skill with medicine. He was almost as good with the weapon as he was with a scalpel, If necessary he would kill. It would be removing part of a cancer from society’s body.

Mr. Bald and Pierced blinked and frowned a bit. “Stallion’s waitin’ on you three? He never told me.”

Spiff glanced about himself as the hall filled with Wild Things, glad that his glasses hid his eyes. "Ah..." He turned back to Mr. Bald and Pierced, lowering his glasses from his eyes. "So you are prepared." He readjusted his glasses and resumed his whimsical demeanor. "No, he's not waitin' on us. You haven't been kept out of the loop, buddy. It's a surprise. And don't tell him yet, I want to see if Ol' Stallion's on top of his game." He grinned wider and turned back to head deeper into the Hole. He raised his hand as he left in a half-wave. "It's alright if you don't know where he is, gato. I'll find him." And he started to step through the door at the end of the hall.

(Player's Note: Is there a door? That wasn't in the room description that I recall.)

As Croaker continued to watch the street awaiting word from Coyote as to the status of the sentries, Preacher’s words cut through his concentration.

"Hey, pardn’r, Looks like we might be a bit too late.”

Following Preacher’s gaze Croaker saw the receding shapes of Spiff, Peacekeeper and Firewind enter the building.

“Damn, Ok we have no more time to think about this we need to move now. Ok Preacher, you and I will cross first then you Coyote. Once again with your eyes Coyote keep watch over us and provide covering fire if we need it. Once we are set we will cover you as you cross. Everyone ready ok lets do it."

Without another word Croaker moved out onto the street to cross it..........

Peacekeeper looked the one they called “Mr. Bald and Pierced” right in the eye as he looked her over, never changing her expression or giving any hints as to her disgust at his action, or his innuendo-filled comment. She remained silent and allowed Spiff to do the talking.

She moved to follow Spiff as he stepped past the first ganger, then paused as he stopped to inform the man not to underestimate her. She could not help but give him a smile sweet enough to kill, and only barely managed to suppress a chuckle at Spiff’s comment.

As momentarily amused as Peacekeeper was by the brief exchange, she was growing more aware of the fact that there were more gangers in the building than there first appeared to be, and it didn’t take long before she saw them practically come out of the wood-work. She grew tense as she watched the room grow smaller by the second, and she readied herself for what may happen next, though she hoped it wouldn’t.

Though she was slightly impressed that Spiff was actually able to bulls*** his way into the building, Peacekeeper wasn’t all too confident in his ability after he so nonchalantly made his way deeper into the Hole and waved off Mr. Bald and Pierced. She readied herself in the event that that would cause any trouble, and very cautiously followed Spiff, keeping a close watch on their surroundings and her ears pealed for the slightest hint of a sound that would suggest anyone had made a move to attack. She only hoped that Croaker and his group were ready and in position to do what needed to be done when the time came.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Croaker’s orders were as quick as his response and the result was that two men rushed out into the rain, splashed through the gutter water, and hoofed it across the blacktop, blurred headlights heading towards them from the south, but easily outside of any danger range. Coyote remained where he was until Croaker and Preacher resolved their new position crouched down near the cement dais bearing the large tree. Caution had been placed on the back burner in an effort to get into a position where they could back up those Croaker had sent inside; so much so, as a matter-of-fact, that the two men barely registered the swiveling security camera at the entrance to the apartment building they’d just crouched in front of.

The position wasn’t enough though. They were still easily a hundred meters from the Hole and in this weather that made for poor marksmanship. Ahead of them, north along the east side of the street, was the private drive, and another, smaller tree planted in a simple box planter. This position would put them within fifty meters and almost kitty-corner to the Hole while staying across the street. The only problem with that was that it gave an angled view of the entrance; still, no matter how you looked at it, the approach would likely be spotted by those watching from the rooftop.

Coyote peered through the rain at the individual shadow he saw perched on the corner of the Hole’s roof for any sign that the man might have noticed Croaker and Preacher’s approach and taken it the right way; which was to say that they were advancing in an aggressive manner, and the gangers up there could never be certain as to their intention. Good money said that they should perk right up, take aim, and see if the threat was on their position, but these were gangers so Coyote hoped beyond hope that they were just miserable in their post, head ducked against the rain, and not all that observant. After all, a dead man don’t get paid, and a man who let his meal ticket get diced in a rival gang’s cubby hole wasn’t worth much on the Street anyway. So, Coyote kept glancing back and forth between the two men he was supposed to be covering and the guard on the roof. It wouldn’t necessarily be accurate at this distance, but the spray of lead might be discouraging, so Coyote had his miniuzi in hand, ready to pelt the rooftop should it be necessary.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
The hall that the three intrepid edgerunners found themselves in was wide at five meters and tall at three and a half meters. The interior floor was ceramic tile, tan in color with a slight peppering of white. The walls were a bubbled plaster painted eggshell white and the ceiling was orange peel textured drywall with a coat of white paint. It was clean; an odd feature for any gang hangout and one that stood out to all three of them. The other oddity was that none of the Wild Things seemed to be drunk. There were a few with beers in hand, and more than one with joints or cigarettes, but no one was passed out on the floor, no one had airhypos in sight, and there wasn’t a single crushed beer can anywhere in around. Of course, living on the edge meant rolling with the punches, and in this case, the punches were all too corporate.

“So you are prepared.” Spiff was making a desperate play. He’d bluffed his way in the door, obviously putting Mr. Bald and Pierced off his guard, but the man was recovering quickly and the fixer knew this could get very messy, very quick, especially with all of the hardware these roughs were packing. “No, he’s not waitin’ on us. You haven’t been kept out of the loop, buddy. It’s a surpise. And don’t tell him yet, I want to see if Ol’ Stallion’s on top of his game… It’s all right if you don’t know where he is, gato. I’ll find him.”

It was a decent play, especially for one who had already fallen into the shark pit and was now swimming with a swarm of great whites, docile though they appeared for the moment. Unfortunately, whether it was that the Wild Things were tough veterans of the Street, or this new-found organization, Spiff, Peacekeeper, and Firewind didn’t know, but the ruse had worn thin and the first of the great whites was coming closer to take a bite.

“No,” Mr. Bald and Pierced grinned wickedly. “You ain’t gonna go find him on yer own, gato.” The man raised his submachine gun so that it was leveled at Spiff’s retreating back, putting his arm within a meter and a half of Peacekeeper and Firewind. The others who’d poured into the hall to see what the commotion was about didn’t follow suit right away, but their stances said they were more than ready to bring weapons to bear. “Stallion don’t like surprises an’ wouldn’t look too kindly on you just waltzin’ in swingin’ yer balls about as though you owned the place; giving up the information or not. If ya know what’s good for you, the lot of ya will sit tight an’ look pretty while I have me a conversation with Stallion to see what he wants us to do to—er, with you.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am

“Can I help you?” the voice asked him. He turned an about face and stared into the eyes of the seductive AI program. Her voice was like a symphonic orchestra, beautiful, melodic and sweet. Whoever designed this program definitely knew what they were doing. Her bent over form revealed the cleavage that he had so noticed earlier, making his heart race slightly faster. Jazzer was always better able to associate with net entities more so than women in real life.

“Umm....uhhh....yeah,” he replied as he raised his gaze to the green dots that were supposed to be her pupils. He had not expected for his invisiblity to be pierced by the AI, it having had worked all night. “Is there any way that I could perhaps check the mail of one Merideth Ackerman. Her father has hired to help in the case of her disappearance. I am a private investigator and not a cop, so I have no credentials to show you.”

He tried to keep his voice steady and attempted to persuade the AI that he was for real here.

Coyote watched Croaker and Preacher move out across the wide open stretch of concrete, more than a bit sure that the gangers on the roof were about to shoot some serious lead into them. He kept a close eye on the gangers for any signs of movement as he pulled out his cell.

Let’s see where Lobo’s at… Coyote thought hopefully. Definitely got myself a here. He punched in the speed dial number for his friend.

[OOC: Assuming Lobo picks up…]

“Yo, amigo!” Coyoto whispered. “I could use a little distraction, si… quick, too. Wondering if you can help out.”

[OOC: Brom… sent you a PM for what I’m looking for…]

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
As the two gunmen left his side, Coyote hit his contact in the hopes of some assistance. Lobo answered quickly, his voice tense on the other end.

“¿Qué?” Lobo queried. “Where are you, hombre? We lost you about an hour ago.”

The location was delivered in quick, hushed tones followed by a small term of silence on the other end. Then, “I can get something en route in about five minutes. That’s the closest we’ve got in the vicinity. That be quick enough?”

Meanwhile, Croaker and Preacher crouched some hundred meters from the Hole ready to make their move.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am

---

Meat Location: The Farris Family Inn – Night City – 10:15pm; The Net: Night City Grid – Night City University Net Campus/Administration Building.
“Can I help you?” the voice asked him. He turned an about face and stared into the eyes of the seductive AI program. Her voice was like a symphonic orchestra, beautiful, melodic and sweet. Whoever designed this program definitely knew what they were doing. Her bent over form revealed the cleavage that he had so noticed earlier, making his heart race slightly faster. Jazzer was always better able to associate with net entities more so than women in real life.

“Umm....uhhh....yeah,” he replied as he raised his gaze to the green dots that were supposed to be her pupils. He had not expected for his invisiblity to be pierced by the AI, it having had worked all night. “Is there any way that I could perhaps check the mail of one Merideth Ackerman. Her father has hired to help in the case of her disappearance. I am a private investigator and not a cop, so I have no credentials to show you.”

He tried to keep his voice steady and attempted to persuade the AI that he was for real here.

Artificial intelligence was a different challenge to persuade than a real person. Though they were programmed to mimic various personalities they were, in fact, algorithms and logic guided their processes. But Jazzer knew this. He was an experienced programmer, one of the best on the market as a matter of fact, and he knew the proper ploy he needed to play. The role of a private investigator would most likely make sense, and since logic was the driving factor within the AI, Jazzer was gambling on the fact that if this Merideth had been missing for long enough the AI would likely conclude that an investigation made sense… His gamble paid off.

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The AI turned about and led the way to the wall of boxes, then waved her hand similarly to the way a gameshow hostess presents prizes. The box that was Merideth’s lit up, outlined by a blue glow. Imagery of letters began to flow from within the box though the door hadn’t opened. They were carried by dove wings and flew out to hover in front of Jazzer. The AI swiveled about again and walked her sexy walk to behind the counter once more where she busied herself with pretend post office work.

There weren’t many emails. Especially for a beautiful college girl. Jazzer filtered through the emails quickly, looking at subject lines and trying to determine whether something was interesting enough to copy. After a couple of seconds he quickly copied everything, releasing the emails back to the box and closing it down. This left the netrunner alone in the post office with the inattentive AI.

Meat Location: The Farris Family Inn – Night City – 10:15pm; The Net: Night City Grid – Night City University Net Campus/Student Union/Bookstore.

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:48pm
DigitalScribe tapped Guardian on the shoulder with a quick, back of the hand swat. He’d seen the procession as well and now he was eager to see what was going on inside. “OK, ideas on how we’re going to get the skinny on this meet?” The fact that the media was asking his bodyguard’s advice on the matter was not just born from the man’s lack of tactical knowledge for urban infiltration, but that he was really stumped how they were going to get anything worth while from their current location.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:48am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
As Croaker waited with Preacher at the side of the building for Coyote to cross he scaned the Hole before them and could see that there was a lot of open ground between them and it. Not good, not good at all the Nomad thought to himself.

“So Preacher any ideas how we get across without getting fragged, we need a diversion or something to draw eyes away from this back area.”

(OOC: I assume we are to the rear of the building as that’s what I was trying for with the long detour earlier.)
Croaker spoke these words and looked around for Coyote who he noticed, still as yet had not crossed to join them. As he did so he noticed that the banger was on his cell phone talking to somebody. Croaker not the most trusting of people at the best of times, and having already this night been betrayed, immediately thought the worst.

“Frag Preacher, Coyote’s on his cell, think he is selling us out because of what happened in the van? Or calling in friends? Either way we could be in trouble“”

Croaker thought about turning the silenced Smart linked SMG towards the banger and killing him right then and there, but had to admit that he was not 100% sure that Coyote was selling them. Once the banger was across the street he would ask him point blank and then see if Coyote would lie. Turning his attention back to the area in front of them he tried to come up with a plan....

Spiff paused, a drop of acidic water rolling down his cheek. He raised his right eyebrow as he turned to the gangbanger. He had to be honest with himself that such a flashy entrance was a terrible idea to begin with, but what choice did he have. His mind grazed over the possible approaches to this situation and Spiff grinned at Mr. Bald and Pierced as he settled on a decision, his sunglasses reflecting the gangers gun.

"You're right, chico, but I can tell you what he's gonna say. He's gonna want to meet the man who just set him up for the gangers that are probably not far behind us. Then he's gonna yell at you for leaving your post because there will probably already be gunfire. Think about it, hombre, he's gonna send you right back here to make sure that we don't have any info he needs. In other words, chico, why the FRACK do you think I came down here? I don't want to get shot! I ain't no fighter!" Spiff thought about mentioning that the three of them were still armed to the hilt and the ganger would certainly get his ass handed to him for not disarming them, but there was no way to use that bit of information to his advantage...yet.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
“Seems t’ me that the street’s pretty well covered,” the solo drawled in answer to Croaker’s question. Behind his shades, Preacher scanned the rooftop, hoping for some sign of what Coyote had seen; some way to place their possible shooters, but it was gray and black, sheets of rain impeding their vision. “It’s likely as a dust bowl havin’ dust that they placed a couple o’ shades such as ourselves doggin’ their corner. Hell, Coyote spotted the gunmen on their roof from here an’ he’s wearin’ their skin more’n we are, so we best be figurin’ that they got at least what he’s got.

“So, like I said, I figure they know where we are, an’ they know we’re comin’. I don’t think we’re getting’ closer without getting’ plugged.”


The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am

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The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
"You're right, chico, but I can tell you what he's gonna say. He's gonna want to meet the man who just set him up for the gangers that are probably not far behind us. Then he's gonna yell at you for leaving your post because there will probably already be gunfire. Think about it, hombre, he's gonna send you right back here to make sure that we don't have any info he needs. In other words, chico, why the FRACK do you think I came down here? I don't want to get shot! I ain't no fighter!"

There were a lot of glances exchanged. If there were a going rate that the edgerunners could have collected on, they’d have raked in the dough. As it was, Spiff knew almost immediately that his gamble had paid off. The stares that these gangers were sharing were filled with concern, but to the observant fixer the anxiety wasn’t directed at the three of them. There was something knowing in these gazes; these people have been waiting for something to go down, and Spiff figured it was likely not their arrival. What he’d said spurred a wave of doubt. Just what he needed to make his ruse work.

Firewind felt his shoulders relax a little as well, for he saw it in these Wild Things’ eyes. The medic had trained himself to read people. He watched for the dilation of their pupils, the widening of their eye, the way their shoulders hung from their frame, and he knew that they’d bought into Spiff’s bull.

Only Peacekeeper remained coiled like a flying squirrel ready to spring from a python. Since these looks of sudden apprehension by so many people carrying military-grade weapons could lead off in any direction at any second, she wasn’t about to let her guard down. She’d seen it often enough before; the careless, or foolish, believing that the situation was well within hand, and then it explodes. She’d been in on a couple of undercover busts where everything was going so smooth and then someone had done something stupid to blow their cover. So much lead… so much blood… this was not what she wanted, but she was ready.

“All right,” the bald guard growled, pulling his submachine gun off Spiff and resting it against his shoulder. “But you got it all wrong, Gato. We ain’t low-techin’ no more, so I don’t have t’ go stompin’ up all these stairs to let Stallion know you’re on your way.”

Before Spiff could respond, the ganger had pulled a comlink from his pocket and had activated it.

“Stallion, yo.”

“What?”
“Got some balls-out glory hounds here t’ meet’cha. Should I let ‘em up?” He wagged his eyebrows at the three as he waited for the delayed response.

“Who are they?”

“They’re those that let Elizabeth know about the trouble brewin’ tonight.” Baldy gave Spiff a smile that said, “Gotcha.” Then continued through the grin, “I think they’re after some sort o’ reward.”

There was more silence during which the three stood cautiously in their place. Finally, the comlink cracked and Stallion’s voice came back over it. “Send them up.”

Mr. Bald and Pierced looked surprised for a moment before nodding into the comlink and placing it back in his pocket. “Top floor, room six-thirty-three.”

There wasn’t much time to savor the victory. Living on the Edge you learn to take what small gifts are presented you and run with them. They’re few and far between as it is, so when a little bit of grifting lands you in the sweet spot; ya just keep tickling until you’ve had your fun. With a nod and a confident smile, Spiff turned and began to trot up the stairs, Firewind and Peacekeeper following close behind. There was likely an elevator, but the three hadn’t been directed to one, and didn’t see one off-hand, so the stairs it was.

After a time the thighs start to burn, but there’s no reduction in pace. Stalling too long could end poorly and they were riding a wave of luck. Two floors gone they still hadn’t seen a single drunk Wild Thing. Three floors and they were passing men and women armed to the teeth with a serious, deadly look about them, none of the usual high, none of the usual inebriation. Four and five went by with more of the same: deadpan expressions, serious stares, and a whole lot of military-grade weaponry. Then they were at the sixth floor, stepping out into a carpeted hall from the stairwell.

The hall wasn’t very long. Spiff knew from his past that this was the floor where the penthouse suite was located, so the majority of the whole level would be dedicated to that spacious quarter, if not the whole thing. The truncated hall was no surprise to him. Firewind had been in a similar local once before during his medical internship. It had been filled with superficial interns waiting hand and foot on a few residents and full-fledged doctors. The experience hadn’t been pleasant, but Sohe had thought it quaint… of course, she’d dumped a whole buttload of escargot on the chief resident when the conversation had turned to politics, but that was a different story. Peacekeeper didn’t have the opportunity to visit these places as much. Most of her clientele were located in dives, piss-filled holes-in-the-wall. Still, there was no real difference in the results a firefight incurred were stains on the carpet instead of the bare cement.

Peacekeeper scanned the hall, running her eyes along the whole length of it, looking for anything that might indicate trouble. Some dealers set the hall outside their safe room with automatic, AI controlled, machine guns, but she didn’t see any of that here. No cameras, nothing but a group of four very large gangers at the end of the hall standing around the double doors leading into the penthouse suite.

Firewind felt the calming sensation from his stress chip activate and thanked whatever divine being had invented them for the adrenaline detection release module. His eyes were darting about as well, jumping from the walls to the ceiling, ceiling to the floor, to the door, to the goons—at least down there they could have made a break for the door. Here? There was no where to go.

Spiff didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the hall either. His was a quick scan, more used to the grunts such as Peacekeeper doing that sort of work than having to work through the details himself. Instead, he did what he did best and focused on the guards, trying to get a read on them.

The first of the guards stood leaning against the wall. He was about six foot, long black hair that draped his shoulders, a thick face with some Chinese in it, and thin, black sunglasses. He wore a black vest over a bare chest and his right arm was chromed to a beautiful, reflective sheen. His body bulged with muscle and the scowl on his face said he didn’t like that he was letting anyone into the room, let alone these three. Held in his hands was an impressive-looking shotgun.

The guard across from him stood two inches taller, wore his hair in a Mohawk, pulled back into a long ponytail. It was obviously TechHair™ and the whole length of it kept changing shades of green in waves. He had enough earrings in each ear and piercings in his face to be brutal in appearance, and the whole length of his neck had the skin pierced in regular intervals with thin slivers of metal on each side. He was bare-chested as well, ripped, and carrying a large submachine gun.

The two in the back were twins, standing on either side of the door like huge, Viking statues. They each had long, pale blonde hair worn nearly to their waists. They were broad in the shoulders and large than either of the men in front of them. Their mirrorshades covered their eyes, they wore Gibson armored jackets and carried some more of those submachine guns. The one on the left had a defining scar on his chin, but that was really the only way they could be told apart.

As the party approached, Spiff could see that they weren’t going to impede their progress and sure enough, the three of them were admitted without difficulty. The room beyond was luxurious and wide. The floors were marble, the walls were white wood with rails and runners. There were trestle tables with vases and flowers to either side of the door and a large, polished table in the center of the room forced the woman who walked purposefully towards them to round out to the right side some ways before righting herself again. Beyond her, the room ran to a wall of windows that would have overlooked the northern factory across the street, but its blinds were tightly drawn.

“I’m Dawn,” the woman said as she drew up in front of them. She was shorter than Peacekeeper by about two inches. Her hair was blue, cropped really short in the back, but for a long tail, and angling down to her chin up front. It was parted in the middle. She had two eyebrow rings over her left eye, a diamond nose stud, and a pierced bottom lip. As she spoke, the three could easily see that her tongue bore three silver balls down the length of it. She wore a lacy black bra visible beneath a fishnet tank top that revealed two Asian-relief coy fish tattoo sleeves. She had two handguns tucked into her baggy black pants at the waist enough that they road the pants down a bit revealing that she wore striped white and blue men’s boxers underneath.

“He ain’t gonna wait long.” She was sizing them up, had already passed over Spiff, dismissed Firewind with a cursory glance, and now was concentrating on Peacekeeper like a matron wolf who’d just been challenged. “So you better come this way.”

She turned and began to retrace her steps with the gait of a man filled with temper. “Don’t think on drawing steel here, boys and girls. One shot fired and this place lights up faster than the Mid-east, if you know what I’m saying.”

As she spoke they were led around the table, to the wall, on to the left and down another short hall with equally impressive decorations to another elaborately crafted door. Through the door they found themselves in a sitting room. There were three couches of soft brown microfiber material, a polished brown coffee table between them, and an electric fireplace to the open space. The rest of the room was amply decorated, but the whole of the focus was on this area. Against the far wall were some windows whose blinds were also drawn. Their position, though, would place them facing to the east.

On the couch facing the entrance were two people. One was a well-muscled (likely enhanced) male with a mane of brown hair that drifted about his shoulders as though it had a life of its own. His low eyebrows were furrowed, though not in what appeared to be anger, but more likely out of habit. There were shadows under his eyes, a sign that Firewind registered as drug withdrawal, though enough time had passed that he was definitely on the upswing of it. He wore a black tank top, dark blue jeans, and had a heavy handgun sitting on the couch next to him. His chest bore a blocky, first generation light tattoo depicting a horse’s head in brilliant whites and reds.

Next to him, sitting seductively, but looking pale and a little piqued. She wore a white tank top over a red bra. Her face was nearly perfectly symmetrical, her eyes slightly slanted and alluring. Her lips were full and shaped with that full upper lip and slightly smaller lip that was made popular by fashion models of the early decade. Her bone structure provided her with smooth features and the shape of her face was not to angular while retaining nice lines. She wore her blond hair up though it could easily be below the shoulders. It was cut in a shag style, with jutting shocks of hair sticking out of large clips. It was obvious that the hair was technologically advanced; the tips held a pinpoint starlight glow of red and the sheen that kept playing over the hair made it appear as though she were walking down a long hallway with intermittent lighting. Her body was tone—a very sexy shape. Piercings in both ears; an ink tattoo of the goddess Isis on her left calf, visible below her capris. Both eyebrows were pierced, though the left had a stud and the right a ring. Her tank top was wrinkled up near her rib cage revealing a belly button piercing with a dangling silver rose. She carried no weapons.

“So,” Stallion drew the word out in a gravel-filled voice as the three approached the couches, Dawn stepping off to their right side and folding her arms across her small chest. “You’re the heroes that let Liz know ‘bout our trouble brewin’?”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

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Meat Location: The Farris Family Inn – Night City – 10:15pm; The Net: Night City Grid – Night City University Net Campus/Administration Building.
“Can I help you?” the voice asked him. He turned an about face and stared into the eyes of the seductive AI program. Her voice was like a symphonic orchestra, beautiful, melodic and sweet. Whoever designed this program definitely knew what they were doing. Her bent over form revealed the cleavage that he had so noticed earlier, making his heart race slightly faster. Jazzer was always better able to associate with net entities more so than women in real life.

“Umm....uhhh....yeah,” he replied as he raised his gaze to the green dots that were supposed to be her pupils. He had not expected for his invisiblity to be pierced by the AI, it having had worked all night. “Is there any way that I could perhaps check the mail of one Merideth Ackerman. Her father has hired to help in the case of her disappearance. I am a private investigator and not a cop, so I have no credentials to show you.”

He tried to keep his voice steady and attempted to persuade the AI that he was for real here.

Artificial intelligence was a different challenge to persuade than a real person. Though they were programmed to mimic various personalities they were, in fact, algorithms and logic guided their processes. But Jazzer knew this. He was an experienced programmer, one of the best on the market as a matter of fact, and he knew the proper ploy he needed to play. The role of a private investigator would most likely make sense, and since logic was the driving factor within the AI, Jazzer was gambling on the fact that if this Merideth had been missing for long enough the AI would likely conclude that an investigation made sense… His gamble paid off.

“Certainly, sir. Right this way.” The AI turned about and led the way to the wall of boxes, then waved her hand similarly to the way a gameshow hostess presents prizes. The box that was Merideth’s lit up, outlined by a blue glow. Imagery of letters began to flow from within the box though the door hadn’t opened. They were carried by dove wings and flew out to hover in front of Jazzer. The AI swiveled about again and walked her sexy walk to behind the counter once more where she busied herself with pretend post office work.

There weren’t many emails. Especially for a beautiful college girl. Jazzer filtered through the emails quickly, looking at subject lines and trying to determine whether something was interesting enough to copy. After a couple of seconds he quickly copied everything, releasing the emails back to the box and closing it down. This left the netrunner alone in the post office with the inattentive AI.

Meat Location: The Farris Family Inn – Night City – 10:15pm; The Net: Night City Grid – Night City University Net Campus/Student Union/Bookstore.

---

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:48pm
Guardian scanned the building and finally resolved himself to a blank. They’d been staring at the brick monstrosity for some time now and he’d been playing entry options over in his head, knowing that DigitalScribe’d likely want to get a peak inside. Still, nothing short of jumping the buildings and opening up on the gangers stood out as an option… and that jump would be trying.

“We could jump over there,” DigitalScribe offered. “You could take out the opposition and… ah, hell! Who’m I kidding? That won’t work. Besides, we’re impartial observers. Impartial observers can’t go around shooting the subjects… with guns that is. Frack!

Frack!

Frack!”

Here they were, on the outskirts of what Frankie thought would be a high-paying gig, and they were sitting atop a roof, in the rain, with no options.

“You don’t wanna take out those guys on the roof and we jump across, do you Guardian?” DigitalScribe sighed at the ridiculous nature of the question and went back to watching.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:49am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am
As Croaker again listened to Preacher’s words he once again had to agree, getting from where they were at, to where they needed to be was gonna be a bitch.
But in the long run they really had no choice.

“Your right Preacher in that getting across is gonna be a real pain, but as far as them knowing that we were already here, no I don’t think so. If they did know we were here they’d be all over us by now for sure. We need some kind of distraction to get those guys on the roof to move away long enough for us to get across the street."
Taking his cell phone from his pocket his fingers dialed a well known number, a number he thought he’d never dial again.

(Assuming the phone is picked up)
“Hello Frankie, its Richard, before you hang up hear me out.” (Assuming he continues to listen)
“I am not happy about you wanting a story so bad that you had to try and follow us and hired that pair of runners to help you. I thought you and I were chummers.” (Brief pause by Croaker)
“But be that as it may and with the trouble you have caused I should just write you off as a chummer find you and kill you, but I need your help. I need you to meet me here.” (Croaker gives directions to an abandoned building 2 miles away)
“How long will it take for you to get there?” (Listening to his response)
“Also if you can get ahold of one or two extra runners we could use the firepower. Do this for me Frankie and you’ll get your story, I will get the girl, and then we will go our separate ways without having to look over our shoulder wondering which one of us kills the other first." (A second pause to let Croakers words sink in)
“So we got a deal.”
(OOC: ok Brom to post part two of this post I need to know his response to my phone call, and if he really takes it or just does not answer. Thanks)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am Croaker seemed to think about what Preacher had said for a moment. In the interim, the other man crouched behind the tree and continued to try and make out anything pronounced from the shadows on the rooftop. There still hadn’t been any sign of what’s going on inside.

“Your right Preacher, in that getting across is gonna be a real pain, but as far as them knowing that we were already here, no, I don’t think so. If they did know we were here they’d be all over us by now for sure. We need some kind of distraction to get those guys on the roof to move away long enough for us to get across the street."

Preacher glanced at Croaker as the man produced his cell and began to dial. A distraction sure would be nice, but the solo wasn’t fooling himself; they knew something was brewing. After all, hadn’t that fixer said that the Wild Things already know something’s up? Preacher knew technology pretty well, and these types of street roughs loved to hook up on the latest and greatest, some going alpha, not even waiting for beta versions to pass through testing. As a matter-of-fact, some corporations used them as test markets for new cyberware. No… Croaker was over-confident if he thought they didn’t know the three of them were approaching. Still, Preacher was content to hang out behind the rather non-existent cover that the tree provided while Coyote joined them and Croaker made his phone call.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am

---

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:49pm
The two watchers were still trying to formulate a plan on how to get into the thick of it for the detail shot. Rain drizzling down his face and plastering his TecHair™ to his head, Frankie was frustrated. His camera was focused on the rooftop, but he’d stopped the recording a while ago… no sense in wasting the battery just yet, after all. He felt wet clean through to his boxer shorts, the water on the roof pooling about his body where it connected with the gravel. It was cold too. The wind biting at his exposed flesh, but this was the price of glory; this was the price of bringing the stories to the public. Sure, he’d “exposed” some real, bottom-of-the-trashcan stuff to make his bills, but he always sought the good story, the real raw deal. Something deep in his gut told him that this could very well be it: the breaking story that the networks would air. And here they were, sitting on a rooftop meters away from it with no way to see. The aggravation he felt was about to boil over.

Frankie Tordesky was a man who enjoyed the more eclectic sounds of the pre-modern era. The techno-mixed industrial grunge of the modern music scene hadn’t caught his attention yet, so when the soft sounds of Kansas’ Carry On My Wayward Son began to drift through the night air, DigitalScribe found himself momentarily reprieved from his miserable situation… then, he realized that it was his cell and cursed himself as he scrambled to silence the thing before someone from across the way heard it. Cold fingers fumbling the device he finally rolled away from the edge and flipped the phone. The glow of the interface was cupped in the crook of his jacket, hidden from view as the media put the phone to his ear refusing to look at his bodyguard just in case Guardian was giving him one of those reproachful stares that made a person feel like an juve caught red handed tagging an overpass. It was only when he’d put the phone to his ear that he realized the ring tone was Croaker’s.

“Hello Frankie, it’s Richard. Before you hang up, hear me out.” The silence must have clued the nomad in that DigitalScribe was on the phone.

“Hey, brother,” Frankie whispered with as much friendliness as he could muster, though inside he was curled up tight wondering if Croaker had hired a netrunner to run a trace on him. Maybe the deal had gone down already and now the large nomad was gunning for some revenge? As usual though, Frankie played it cool. “I’m not the one stole away into the night with his panties in a bunch. Speak on, Choomba.”

“I am not happy about you wanting a story so bad that you had to try and follow us, and hired that pair of runners to help you. I though you and I were chummers.” There was a pause just long enough for Frankie to open his mouth before Richard continued. ”But be that as it may, and with the trouble you have caused I should just write you off as a chummer, find you, and kill you, but I need your help. I need you to meet me here:”
DigitalScribe heard the address and mentally placed himself in association with the location, then shook his head. He wasn’t leaving the rooftop unless it was to get inside. Croaker probably had an inkling he was near and wanted him out of there.

”How long will it take for you to get there?”
“Sorry, Rich, but I’m not able to make it.” Frankie chuckled into the phone and tumbled some gravel between his fingers. “I don’t have much time to explain my reasons for tailing you tonight beyond stating that I think you’re on to something big. You know I’ve got a duty to the People to report on that, Choomba. As far as the two edgerunners; well, I’m not about to run this gauntlet without some protection. I’m bold, not stupid. Besides, what would you want with me at that address? Peacekeeper probably put you up to this in order to slice ‘n dice me. She’s pretty an’ all, but I’m not into that, savvy? I’m no good to you in a firefight, and you know it, so what’s the also?”

”Also, if you can get a hold of one or two extra runners, we could use the firepower. Do this for me, Frankie, and you’ll get your story, I will get the girl, and then we will go our separate ways without having to look over our shoulder wondering which one of us kills the other first.” Another pause before Croaker finished. ”So, we got a deal?”
Frankie thought about it a second more before deciding that Croaker really did want their friendship to end no matter the results of this conversation. He also knew that Croaker and his group were right there—right at the same location, and that some of them had gone inside, so meeting a few miles away just seemed strange to the media. And what was this about getting a girl? Peacekeeper and Croaker were as tight as any input/output DigitalScribe had ever seen so to whom was he referring? Was he trying to find a girl? Was that the gig? Now, beyond his original assumption that they were onto something big, Frankie’s curiosity was piqued.

“I got another deal for you, Croaker.” DigitalScribe decided to get even bolder. “Whatever you’re up to, you’ve already let on that you need more guns. I’ve got some help with me now—“ Frankie glanced over to where Guardian lay prone, the rain dancing off his leather. “—some real good help. You lay your cards on the table and I’ll see if it really is worth me providing the cavalry.

“As far as our friendship’s concerned; well, you knew me, and knew what I do before you ever called me for help initially. So, if you want to go ahead and hold a grudge, that’s your business. I’m just being me, and I got no hard feelings so far. That’s not to say if you threaten me again that won’t change, but right now, we’re still solid as far as I’m concerned. I helped you in a bind twice today already and the only thing I get for it is some big Zero threatening to put me on ice. Makes a guy want to turn his back on a friend, ya know?

“So, the ball is in your court now. You decide how it’s going to go down. You can either tell me what kinda mess you’re in and see if I can help you a third time, or we can continue to do things on our own and see who comes out on top.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:52am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:52am
“Hello Frankie, its Richard. Before you hang up, hear me out.”
“Hey, brother, I’m not the one stole away into the night with his panties in a bunch. Speak on, Choomba.”
“I am not happy about you wanting a story so bad that you had to try and follow us, and hired that pair of runners to help you. I though you and I were chummers. But be that as it may, and with the trouble you have caused I should just write you off as a chummer, find you, and kill you, but I need your help. I need you to meet me here. How long will it take for you to get there?”
“Sorry, Rich, but I’m not able to make it. I don’t have much time to explain my reasons for tailing you tonight beyond stating that I think you’re on to something big. You know I’ve got a duty to the People to report on that, Choomba. As far as the two edgerunners; well, I’m not about to run this gauntlet without some protection. I’m bold, not stupid. Besides, what would you want with me at that address? Peacekeeper probably put you up to this in order to slice ‘n dice me. She’s pretty an’ all, but I’m not into that, savvy? I’m no good to you in a firefight, and you know it, so what’s the also?”
”No need to worry about Peacekeeper Frankie she is not aware of this call, look if you can get a hold of one or two extra runners, we could use the firepower. Do this for me, Frankie, and you’ll get your story, I will get the girl, and then we will go our separate ways without having to look over our shoulder wondering which one of us kills the other first. So, we got a deal?”
“I got another deal for you, Croaker. Whatever you’re up to, you’ve already let on that you need more guns. I’ve got some help with me now some real good help. You lay your cards on the table and I’ll see if it really is worth me providing the cavalry. As far as our friendship’s concerned; well, you knew me, and knew what I do before you ever called me for help initially. So, if you want to go ahead and hold a grudge, that’s your business. I’m just being me, and I got no hard feelings so far. That’s not to say if you threaten me again that won’t change, but right now, we’re still solid as far as I’m concerned. I helped you in a bind twice today already and the only thing I get for it is some big Zero threatening to put me on ice. Makes a guy want to turn his back on a friend, ya know?
So, the ball is in your court now. You decide how it’s going to go down. You can either tell me what kinda mess you’re in and see if I can help you a third time, or we can continue to do things on our own and see who comes out on top.”
Croaker was silent for the moment after Frankie’s rejection of a possible meet. His plan to kill two birds with 1 stone had not worked. As much as he hated to admit it he was at a loss of what to do next. It was clear that they needed some type of distraction to clear or at least get the rooftop Wild Things looking somewhere else. But at the moment Croaker was at a loss as to how, maybe he could still use Frankie.

“Ok Frankie, ever hear of a place called the Hole. Well that’s where those Runners you got and I are at right now. We are on a side street across from it and need to get across said street, but its got guards on the roof covering all access. If we try to cross we get fragged and that’s no good for anyone. So there’s the deal how long will it take you to get here?”
Croaker at this point could only hope Frankie and “his” runner were close enough to help, but knowing the news hound as he did Frankie would find a way.
Looking once again at the Hole as he awaited an answer he could not help but worry on how Spiff, Firewind and the girl he loved more then his own life were doing inside the hole....

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:54am