Guardian nods in thanks as Blossom and Glahn offer to help him pay for extra med supplies.

'Thanks, guys. Hopefully I can get some cash quickly so I don't have to ask again.'

When Guardian heard of the potential job Glahn had found, his interest was instantly piqued. Talking of getting quick cash...

'I'm in,' he nodded. 'In case things go south for us. I'm also not bad with a gun. Used to practice quite a lot at my local gun range. Though,' he added with a sheepish grin 'I haven't fought much.' He chukled. 'Still, if it comes down to it I will. Anyway, you count on my help.'
He turned to Charlie as he asked what Guardian needed that he couldn't carry.

'Well,' he replied ruefully, 'my bag's quite empty at the moment.' Another awkward chuckle. 'As of now, I think I'll be okay with the stuff in the list I sent to your agents. Why do you ask?'

Vegas could hear the conversations of his comrades, blended with a flood of memories from the songs and sounds of various clubs that the dapper solo had either visited or performed at; memories that were presently amalgamated with the sensations of the healing drugs that had been administered to the Frank Sinatra look-alike, to help him cope and recuperate from his recent trauma.

A Little Flavor

Vegas drifted in-and-out from his hallucinogenic haze, making decisions and determinations, while his consciousness flowed with the effects of the medical components pumping through his battered system.

He was aware of the 2000 credits that had been transferred to his agent by Casino, his share for the troubles he had engaged in to get the recent job done, as well as being aware of the immediate needs of his team members, that were necessary to acquire to be better prepared for the next gig.

Guardian needed med-gear and Vegas knew the importance by the first-hand experience of having vital healing meds handy in case of a crisis.

“I will pony up 1000 creds for you to be equipped with the necessary tools of your trade,” said the charismatic crooner, as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Vegas was still drifting in the healing-induced delirium when Charlie returned with the news that the new asking price for the working madpack reader was now 370 eddies.

The dapper solo struggled to a seated position, raised his right hand, and decreed, “Sold to the Avenger of Jeannette!”

Vegas made it clear to anyone who would listen, that paying the price for the working madpack reader was a small price to pay for avenging the death of the woman who had sheltered and ministered to the wounds of the Frank Sinatra look-alike.

If no one else wanted to know the secrets that died with his unfortunate benefactress, Vegas was certain that the only reason he was now alive was tangled up in those yet-to-be-revealed secrets.

A bit later, Vegas drifted back into the conversation and pledged another 500 credits for Casino to spend on one or more grenades, which could potentially be used as payback for the misery that had been inflicted upon the mountain of a solo a short time ago.

That left Vegas with 130 credits from the 2000 credits that Casino had transferred to the dapper solo’s agent, which was 130 credits more than he had in his possession while trying to escape the corporate compound, where dormant nightmares had been rudely revived several days ago.

Vegas settled back down into the flow of the chemically-induced hallucinogenic haze, content that he had made some sober decisions that would benefit the entire team in the near future, as he began to croon a tune to no one in particular:

The song Vegas is singing

"I'm broke as all get out," Cipher says to the group at large, gesturing to her face with her manicured nails. "I didn't wake up like this, after all. So, I'm out on contributing eddies, but brainpower I can do." Surveying the multitude of takeout and prepackaged food around here, she grimaces. "Am I the only one feeling a bit cramped here? Any chance we could do some recon or go shoppig for those parts ourselves with Cred-Stick's help? I'm dying to get out of this apartment at this point."

Fixer was busy enjoying the downtime.  The last week had been hectic, frantic, fast-paced, exhausting, dangerous, tense and . . . kinda exciting.  But it had left him pretty worn out.  So he took advantage of the time.   There would be work in the future.  This crew would be going out again soon – there were already possible jobs on the docket.  And he might be trying to build a reader soon as well.  He was hardly a veteran campaigner, but he was smart enough to know he should enjoy the times between crises. 

               When the question about medical supplies was raised, he was quick to respond.  “Med tech seems like one of the best investments we could make.  I’d be happier knowing you had the stuff needed to plug holes if I ever get any.  I’ll contribute.  Life lines are good.” 

               The question of the reader was a bit trickier.  “Charlie, I’ll trust you on this one.  I’m happy to try and put things together with whatever to save us some creds, but I can’t make things out of thin air.  Or this smoggy crap we call air here either.  So if you think that is a better deal then continuing to search.  Ok.  You did a great job on the gear, I appreciate the mask and everything else, so I’m buying whatever the super-shopper is selling right now, I guess.”

               His relaxed mood was interrupted when one of the newbies, Cipher, approached and tried to start a conversation.  “So, you always run with these big guns or is this a new team for you too?”  The small fixer looked around the room and noticed that everyone else was ignoring everyone else.  He was the last possible target of conversation for a bored comrade.  But that was ok, he didn’t mind a conversation with someone like Cipher.  He looked up at her.  “Somewhere in the middle, I guess.  The last run was sort of new for all of us and took us in a lot of directions.  But despite some hiccups it ended up working out pretty well.  I’m alive anyway.  And have a few more credits and gadgets than I had before.  Hell, even Vegas is alive, and I don’t think any of us would have taken bets on that a couple of days ago.”  He looked at Cipher at this point and got a bit more serious.  “For a group I haven’t known all that long, we hung together well.  These folks have some skills.  And nobody got left behind.  Even the one that disappeared.  I haven’t known them all long, but right now, I’m not going anywhere.  They’ve earned some trust.  I hope you’ll be a good addition.  Seems like it.” 

               He never had been great talking to those of the female persuasion, so he fiddled a bit with his gadgets as he talked.  He looked up.  “How about you?   Done much running before this?”

               As he talked with Cipher he heard Vegas stressing the need for the madpack reader.  He agreed with the guy, drug-haze or not.  “I’m open to whatever jobs you guys want to take, I think.  But something about helping Vegas’ savior strikes a chord.  That is the kind of work I’d lean towards.  And I’m willing to pony up my share for that reader if that is what it takes.”

               He leaned back and continued his conversation with Cipher.  He wasn’t the leader of this band of merry men and didn’t really want to be.  But he did like the idea of looking into why a nice young lady got killed a bit more than fighting some gangs war for them.  But bills also needed paying.     

As soon as Vegas was coherent enough to speak clearly, the Dapper Solo confirmed to the assembled group how he wanted to allocate his newly acquired 2000 eddies:

“1000 to the med tech to help get whatever medical supplies he needs for the good of the group. 500 for Casino to get whatever type of grenade or grenades my partner needs. 370 for the madpack reader so Blossom or whoever can figure out what secret Jeannette was hiding that cost my short-lived benefactress her life. That leaves me with 130, which is more than I had when I was being tortured somewhere in that compound that I was fortunate enough to escape with a little help from my friends.

“Speaking of friends, it would be nice to get a place with my partner Casino, that we could call home, when we are between jobs, as long as we don’t get killed in the process.

“Therefore, I cast my vote, for what it is worth, to make a run with Ghlahn’s gig, to pick up some quick cash, plus work out the kinks of our working together as a team, before we devote our attention to solving the mystery that the madpack reader can unlock, so I can avenge Jeannette’s death, with the help of anyone who wants to go and help me to balance the scales in her memory!”

EVERYONE

March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 12:30 PM PST - Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate.

Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Very Strong | High: 85°F (29.4°C) | Low: 72°F (22.2°C) | Wind Force: Very Strong | Wind Speed: 35 mph (56.3 kph) | Very Strong Wind: Strong gusts of wind that impose a -4 penalty on Awareness checks and certain ranged weapon attacks. Such gusts automatically extinguish unprotected flames. Flying vehicles struggle with a -2 penalty. | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Very Hot | High: 98°F (36.6°C) - (Very Hot: A character in very hot conditions (above 90°F) must make a CON check each hour (DC 16) or take 1d4 points of Stun Damage. Characters wearing heavy clothing or armor of any sort take a -4 penalty on their checks. A character with the Survival skill may receive a bonus and may be able to apply this bonus to other characters as well. A character who takes any Stun damage from heat exposure now suffers from heatstroke and is fatigued. These penalties end when the character recovers the Stun damage she took from the heat. Stun damage from heat exposure cannot be recovered until the character gets cooled off (reaches shade, survives until nightfall, gets doused in water, is targeted by endure elements, and so forth). Once rendered unconscious through the accumulation of Stun damage, the character begins to take lethal damage at the same rate.) | Low: 83°F (28°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: Very High | High: 115°F (46.1°C) | Low: 101°F (38.3°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 9 mph (14.5 kph))

Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 15 | Undercity = 95 (masks required)

The team has spent the morning focusing on their various pastimes while waiting for Charlie to return from his educator responsibilities. They’ve been subsiding off of Kibble and tap water for the most part, ready fare that’s cheap and though it tastes like manufactured sugar, it’s edible. The tap water is another story altogether. 

Morning news reports indicate that the day is going to be a hot one. Undercity denizens are cautioned to stay indoors and do whatever they can to stay hydrated and cool. The air quality is horrendous in those areas but the strong winds have swept Midcity’s and Upper City’s pollution away for now. Of course, with the heatwave that’s happening, crime is up and the Daily Death Pool numbers are already climbing by the time Charlie rolls in the door.

Patriot is supposed to meet up with everyone at a dive called the Black Piranha around six that evening so everyone can catch a decent bite to eat and get to know him. The decision to knock out the gig that Glhahn has brought back from his enclave is unanimous and after a quick conversation with Patriot, Charlie confirms that the media will tag along using this run as a way to get a picture of this team’s operating abilities. The meeting with Patriot is still on.

The madpack reader is delivered by drone at a little after 1:00 PM (1300 hours) and Fixer uses his skillset to set it up on Charlie’s kitchen counter. At first, the old device is finicky and refuses to read the disk. Fiddling with it, Fixer resolves the problem. By half-past the hour, the shadowrunners are fully aware of what’s on the disk; undoubtedly what Jeannette died for.

Presented on the backlit digital flatscreen are the schematics and plans for a high-end nano-armor and the shield and crossed assault rifles logo of ArmorTech. This armor, called the CADS Mk 2013-3, is cutting edge and like nothing that any of the team can recall seeing on the market, even for corporate operators. It’s a full body suit, complete with helmet, and all of the bells and whistles any self-respecting military would pay millions for.

“ArmorTech…” Blossom whispers as she pulls up what data she can find on the company using her wrist keyboard and deck chip. With glazed over eyes fluttering from right to left and left to right in rapid succession, she recites what she’s discovered. 

“They’re HQ’d in Vancouver, British Columbia,” she delivers in a monotone, “They have known contracts with Militech… they’re big, chooms, like really big. Not as big as Militech, but big enough, and we’ve got the plans to their latest toy. I’ve got press releases from February twenty-fifth and back. Looks like they first announced this CADS armor back in April of last year and their shareholder reports indicate that they’re planning on revealing the final product at the end of the month—like, this month. They’ve got this big media event already scheduled for the eighteenth. Militech brass’ll be there, Orbital Air, Net 54… and the list goes on.”

Cipher hasn’t been sitting idle either. Downloading the data to a physical disk is risky. A search through the installed ICE shows that there are multiple failsafes in place from extremely skilled white hats to wipe the disk completely should any copying be attempted. It’s strong enough of a defense that the netrunner quickly concludes copying the disk is unviable. 

It is through this investigation that Cipher triggers a subroutine containing some recorded communication media files. When playing these back, Vegas immediately recognizes Jeannette’s voice as one of those speaking. After listening to all of the audio it is apparent that Vegas’s savior was working a black ops side job. Her team (the details of which are entirely omitted) procured the CADS plans and have arranged to sell them to an operation called ESPerSRI, who’s representative is a male simply calling himself the Agent. In the final audio track, Jeannette reveals her hand and demands an additional fifty-percent more than the previously agreed upon number (which also isn’t revealed), stating that the danger of the transaction has multiplied. The Agent wasn’t happy with the demand, his tone icy and clipped but level and calm.

“The plans for this suit have got to be worth millions to the right buyer,” Blossom breathes, rightfully in awe of what the team has in their possession. “This is the Show, chooms. We get this deal done—we find a buyer—and we can all retire on our own private islands.”

There’s still a lot to figure in, of course. Fixer could spend hours going over the specs for the suit to get the details on just what it’s capable of. Questions are raised, discussion held, and further Net research performed. Eventually, it’s time to relocate to the Black Piranha to meet their newest team member.

Careful not to share any information about their treasure anywhere in public that might be overheard, the group arrives at the dive that sits just off of one of the blocked canals that used to penetrate deep into the California landscape before the Arasaka Tower Incident. 

Charlie’s truck wouldn’t carry the entire party, and the mess that the fixer had to deal with when closing out the van rental deal (the details of which he kept entirely to himself) were enough to warrant the use of public transportation. A couple of buses put the troupe within walking distance.

The heat of the day hammers the team with relentless, angry fire. Jackets and double-layer clothing has to be shed unless it consists of smart tech that cools the wearer using their own sweat as a power source. Even then, all second layer clothing is carried.

Outside of the Black Piranha the adjacent parking lot is home to a number of homeless. Tents are erected in a ramshackle maze of stinking community, though even as the evening hours loom on the horizon, the occupants are deep in the shaded protection of their abodes. Some of the more drugged out or brain fried citizens of Night City lie near the doorway or stumble along like zombies back and forth in front of the establishment. Whether it’s the sheer number of the company, or the capable appearance that they carry themselves with, the team is unmolested as they make their march from the bus stop inside the bar and grill. 

A blast of cooler air strikes their faces, chilling the sweat on their skill, accompanied by the dubious aroma of cooking meat. Cyberoptics quickly adjust to the dimmed lighting revealing a deep establishment with a podium near the door covered in stickers promoting various lifestyle products, a couple of vending machines ready to dispense flavor-cigs, condemns, and other oddities pertaining to hygiene. The kitchen is in the back, out of sight; enclosed booths run the length of the walls, each with ratty padded benches that wrap about in a broad U-shape and scarred laminate-covered tables. The decor is Latino with brightly colored art and murals covering the walls. Most of the tables are filled, and the patrons look to be a mix of gang members and locals. As the hostess approaches, an average-sized black man with dreaded TechHair® cuts her off. His long black dreads descend past his shoulders, with strands of glowing red woven through the braids. He wears a thin mustache and small goatee and has a charismatic and good-looking face. He moves confidently with eyes that dart about capturing the world around him. A light tattoo is emblazoned on his right forearm and is a simple rendition of Lady Justice. Another light tattoo is displayed on his left bicep and is a Kanji.

“It’s okay,” he says in a slight Jamaican accent, “They’re with me.” 

The hostess nods, smiles a welcome, and glides back towards the kitchen. The tattooed man stops directly in front of the team, particularly face-to-face with Charlie, and smiles a brilliant white toothy grin. 

“They serve a preem enchilada, choom,” he spreads his arms wide in his own welcome and turns slightly to motion the group forward. “I have us set up in the conference room just back there.”

Once everyone is seated in a chamber where the Latino music is just loud enough to drown out any quiet conversation except for those who have enhanced hearing, a waitress arrives through the only door in or out of the room. Orders are placed (the cost is between eight and twenty credits), along with any beverages including beer (the cost is between two-fifty and five credits), and the waitress vanishes back through the door.

“Well, then,” the black man grins and looks around the table in a charismatic way. “You’ve likely figured out that I’m Patriot, but I’m going to need some names to associate with faces as Cred Stick Charlie hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with that information.”

Holding up his right hand, he quickly adds, “We're free to discuss our biz here. I’ve never had any problems here.”  

(OOC: March 13th, Day 7 - Thursday, Time is 6:15 PM PST - Mid-City, The Black Piranha Bar & Grill, X00105:4.Y00272:01.Z00385:00, South Night City Integrate.)

March 10th, Day 5 – Monday, Time is 12:30 PM PST – Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate. Weather Conditions: High City (Very Windy, 25 mph winds from the West.) | Midcity (Windy, 13mph winds from the West.) | Undercity (Slight Wind, 5mph gusts from the West.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 35 | Undercity = 65 (masks required)

“Hey can we talk?” Echo approaches Casino.

“Sure what’s up?” The pain in his arm is forgotten as paranoia sets in. Rising to his feet, the big solo swallows his concern over what the nomad beauty could possibly want to talk about—Is she leaving? Is she puttin' the stop on us?—as Echo heads out the apartment's front door into the hallway and then makes her way outside to stand on a landing in the bustling wind away from the rest of the group. Casino waits for what Echo has to say.

“I can’t stay here," Elizabeth begins strongly, "it’s too cramped. I need someplace away from the crowd in there.”

Oh, my god! She is leaving. Damn, damn! “Okay," Keith attempts to present a stoic front but fails as his eyes widen and uncontrolled emotion paints his rugged face, "so you're leaving then?”

Seeing the big solo’s eyes fly open in pain, Echo knows right away Casino has taken her desire to find a separate living area for the two of them wrong. Then again, thinking quickly back, in her nervousness she had not been very clear. “No, no I meant for you and me, and I was thinking here in the enclave if they have open housing and will let a Rolling State stay in an Edgerunner roost.” She tries to make the last bit humorous to calm the big guy down.

Looking around the landing and the bustle of the enclave, the big solo is unsure of their success, though relieved that she's not leaving and more than a little caught up in the moment. “I’m not sure, what do you mean; a monthly thing? Might be easier to rent a smaller place weekly, but I’ll talk to Charlie about a place for us, okay?”

Smiling up at the big solo the nomad says nothing more and without any pause grabs his head, pulling him down to her mouth and kissing him.

With the question of if they are to move forward with this almost overnight relationship now agreed upon, the two return to Charlie's apartment where the sight of the resting Vegas reminds Keith of his professional partnership and the way they've been living their lives practically joined at the hip. Echo's desire for the two of them—just Casino and Echo—living apart from the group may just throw a wrench in the way the two solos have been living.

“Echo,” Blossom says as though she just found a secret decoder ring in a box of cereal, “do you think your tribe has a madpack they’ll loan or sell us?”

"Let me see what I can do,” Moving into the back of the apartment, Echo makes a call. The image displayed on her agent is that of a scruffy, blonde man with a narrow face. Luke... perhaps the last friend she has amongst the El Lay. She has no idea where the tribe is right now or what they're doing. She can only hope that he answers. Instead, a message appears on her screen, the call ends. I'll call you back. Can't talk - Luke.

Casino plays through the request with the fixer, the complications of abandoning his long-time partner in favor of living with Echo, whom he's only known for less than a week, causing him no end of nervousness. “Charlie, can you get me a small place within the enclave, something between a Red Door Inn cubicle and a month-long lease apartment, priority on the apartment, by the end of the day?“ He really should have a discussion about their plans with Vegas before he goes off forgetting the man exists.

March 12th, Day 6 – Wednesday, Time is 01:30 PM PST – Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate. Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Moderate | High: 78°F (25.5°C) | Low: 69°F (20.5°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35.4 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Moderate | High: 87°F (30°C) | Low: 77°F (25°C) | Wind Force: Moderate | Wind Speed: 12 mph (19 kph) | Moderate Wind: A steady wind with a 50% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: High | High: 98°F (36.6°C) | Low: 91°F (32.7°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 6 mph (9.6 kph)) Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 35 | Undercity = 70 (masks required)

With Charlie’s return from whatever is keeping him engaged all morning and Vegas’s offer of 500 credits to go towards grenades, Casino takes advantage of the wares the fixer has access to.

“OK, Charlie I’ll grab two of those illumination grenades, two WP grenades, two HEP grenades, two HEDP grenades, two flash bangs,” The solo allows for a slight pause as he mentally considers the catalog. “Next, let me get three each of those beanbag’s and splatshells, and lastly an EMP.”

Charlie explains that they'll need to go collect the boom booms later that evening but he'll arrange the meet. After all of the shopping is taken care of, Casino and Echo split to pick up the remaining two skill chips that he ordered; working the arrangements through Cred Stick once again. These haven't been paid for yet so the solo calls in some of his favors (OOC: Giri) to cover the bill. The SMG REF chip level 3 and Ambidexarity REF chip are quickly inserted as soon as he has his hands on them, taking up all four of his open slots.

Happy as all hell, the big solo and Echo add a quick supply run of their own within the enclave searching for a waist-rigged grenade pouch harness that will hold eight total grenades, four on each side. The search is long and the results aren't as nova as he would have liked. He's able to get four double-pack grenade pouches that slide onto a belt for 15c apiece totaling 60c. With the day's outings resolved, the evening consists of more relaxed time with Echo and the rest of the team in Charlie's apartment. However it was during this time and Vegas’s next words that brought Casino to the realization he had said nothing to him about Echo and he looking for a crash pad and that his agreement was needed as to their next job.

“Speaking of friends, it would be nice to get a place with my partner Casino, that we could call home, when we are between jobs, as long as we don’t get killed in the process. Therefore, I cast my vote, for what it is worth, to make a run with Ghlahn’s gig, to pick up some quick cash, plus work out the kinks of our working together as a team, before we devote our attention to solving the mystery that the madpack reader can unlock, so I can avenge Jeannette’s death, with the help of anyone who wants to go and help me to balance the scales in her memory!”

A brief look to Echo and a nod of her head and Casino gave his and the nomad’s vote.

“Yeah count us into Ghlahn’s gig, sounds like a good way to make some change while we work on this Jennette’s death and the Yakuza gig”

Catching Vegas’s eye he motions for his partner to join him outside the apartment for the unbelievable first time alone just the two of them since getting him out of his captivity. As Vegas was clear and the apartment door closed Casino gave the Frank Sinatra a good hug.

“Glad your still alive brother, was on edge thinking you were dead then finding out you were being held was even worse. Sorry it’s taken me this long to get my head out of my ass and truly welcome you home.”

Letting go he stood back.

(Add Vegas Reply)

“Yeah I hear ya. Now that your back you going to take back over as group leader? I’m so cool in dropping back as number 2, though you might have a harder time with Charlie letting you take over. We were sharing the lead, so to speak, with me in charge on ops and him in charge at home and getting us jobs, however even getting there was not an easy feat for both of us”

(Add Vegas Reply)

“Cool, Cool, you know I’ll back your play no matter what you decide. If you decide you don’t want to take it back then I’ll keep sharing it with Charlie. Ahh something else I wanted to let you know ~A brief pause~ Somewhere through that kid run me and Echo became an item, IDK what you want to call it, but we are going for the BF/GF thingi and looking to get a cube or apt together here in this enclave to be close to Charlie for any runs he comes up with. However I talked it over with her, and we want you with us for the friendship and yeah, not gonna lie, to help cut the cost. F***ing things are expensive. Please tell me you’ll crash, even if its on a couch. If so I promise to find you damn good couch. What do you say?”

(Add Vegas Reply)

March 13th, Day 7 – Thursday, Time is 12:30 PM PST – Mid-City, Edgerunner Enclave (China Town), Charlie’s Apartment X00050:2.Y00310:08.Z00410:15, South Night City Integrate. Weather Conditions: High City (Windy, Temperature: Very Strong | High: 85°F (29.4°C) | Low: 72°F (22.2°C) | Wind Force: Very Strong | Wind Speed: 35 mph (56.3 kph) | Very Strong Wind: Strong gusts of wind that impose a -4 penalty on Awareness checks and certain ranged weapon attacks. Such gusts automatically extinguish unprotected flames. Flying vehicles struggle with a -2 penalty. | Midcity (Windy, Temperature: Very Hot | High: 98°F (36.6°C) - | Low: 83°F (28°C) | Wind Force: Strong | Wind Speed: 22 mph (35 kph) | Strong Wind: A steady wind with a 75% chance of extinguishing unprotected flames.) | Undercity (Windy, Temperature: Very High | High: 115°F (46.1°C) | Low: 101°F (38.3°C) | Wind Force: Light | Wind Speed: 9 mph (14.5 kph)) Air Quality Index: High City = 0 | Midcity = 15 | Undercity = 95 (masks required)

The options for the afternoon are wide open. Patriot is supposed to meet up with everyone at a dive called the Black Piranha around six that evening so everyone can catch a decent bite to eat and get to know him. Aside from that appointment, there’s nothing on the docket. Looking around Charlie’s apartment feeling much better then he had for days Casino is still curious about this new Patriot person.

“So," he asks, "anyone got any more info on this Patriot guy?”…………………..

"Hey everyone, I got more info on the job from the Cree-metal.  Seems a group of wannbe netrunners calling themselves The Tychoons have been a bit of a thorn in their side.  They would like us to send them a message.  When we send a message it isn't a mean e-mail if you catch my drift.  It is up to us to find these idiots, let them know the Cree-Metal are not amused and ensure the message is delivered.  Personally, I find it hard for a corpse to cause trouble and most of my alt-cult would agree so this is gonna be a fast, hard and messy hit.  Hopefully we can catch them as a group.  Cipher, Blossum I am sending you a digital footprint we captured.  Can you find them and where they are hiding?  Those interested will make a plan to deliver the message once we know where they are.  Each Tychoon that is eliminated is worth 2,000c.  So who wants in on the job?"

Guardian nodded to Ghalahn and replied, 'as I said, I'm in. I need the cash, but I'm hoping you don't need me if catch my meaning. Anyway, sign me up.'

The hug from Casino was well received and seemed long overdue, but neither of the Solos ever seemed to go out of their way to express their deep affections as true heart friends.

“It seemed like an eternity and more while they had me chained and hanging in their torture chamber. I seemed to hallucinate and re-live all of our past adventures dozens of times over, which seemed to help me to focus through the indescribable pain and hold out hope that I would somehow escape to have some new adventures with my long-time partner.”

Vegas pondered the question from Casino, before nodding an affirmative realization that the group leader position was still an option for the Frank Sinatra look-alike.

“As long as the rest of the group are cool with following my orders or lead, then I am ready to once again be the group leader. As for Charlie, there is plenty of room to make this work out for the best.”

The Dapper Solo was glad to hear that Casino was cool with stepping back from leading the group, in favor of the Charismatic Crooner.

“I appreciate your backing my play as the group leader my friend,” responded Vegas with a sly smile as he added, “and a couch of my own sounds much better than where I have been trying to sleep the past few weeks! Glad to hear you and Echo are an item. I been thinking about settling down a bit, especially after meeting and losing Jeannette in a matter of hours. Maybe we can get a place together that will provide me some space, just in case I get lucky like you and Echo.”

Vegas nodded his approval as Ghalahn laid out his cards regarding the possible job.

“Deal me in!”

Then the Dapper Solo turned to the rest of the group, asking them to consider any plan of action, no matter how reasonable or unreasonable their idea might seem to be, so that Vegas could consider the input from every member of the group.

Then he approached Ghalahn to have a discussion about what information he had that would help in formulating a plan of action to ‘send the right message!’

((OOC: Okay Brom, whatever roll and information can be provided for Vegas to help lead the group to ‘send the right message’ for the gig that Ghalahn has acquired from his alt-cult))

'Well,' he replied ruefully, 'my bag's quite empty at the moment.' Another awkward chuckle. 'As of now, I think I'll be okay with the stuff in the list I sent to your agents. Why do you ask?'

" Well Guardian.... because if we all save and chip into one big pot that we could upgrade the beast downstairs to include a auto medical doc for serious injuries while edge running" Luther commented. 

Vegas was the glue for sure before Luther showed up and with him donating a lot to the group spoke volumes to Luther. 

“I will pony up 1000 creds for you to be equipped with the necessary tools of your trade,” 

When Luther spoke about a madpack reader, again Vegas provided for the team without hesitation. 

 “Sold to the Avenger of Jeannette!” Luther couldn’t help but smile at the comments

Vegas threw another 500 credits again to assist with more grenades for his solo brother in arms. 

Charlie simply just continued to smile and nod his head in acknowledgment of his choices.

 “Charlie, I’ll trust you on this one.  I’m happy to try and put things together with whatever to save us some creds, but I can’t make things out of thin air.  Or this smoggy crap we call air here either.  So if you think that is a better deal then continuing to search.  Ok.  You did a great job on the gear, I appreciate the mask and everything else, so I’m buying whatever the super-shopper is selling right now, I guess.”

" Thank you for the compliment, Fixer.... Looks like we could just take the deal but I would ask if you could look over everyone's gear before we go out again. With all the upgrades maybe you can "fine-tune" a few items and help the solo get "dialed" in" 

Casino plays through the request with the fixer, the complications of abandoning his long-time partner in favor of living with Echo, whom he's only known for less than a week, causing him no end of nervousness. “Charlie, can you get me a small place within the enclave, something between a Red Door Inn cubicle and a month-long lease apartment, priority on the apartment, by the end of the day?“ He really should have a discussion about their plans with Vegas before he goes off forgetting the man exists.

 

“Sure, I can look into that for you” 

 

Brom, can I use my street deal for this, please?