Darn the MSD

GM: Nightshade Players: + Slinger A pair of youthful brown eyes accustomed to laughter shine within a handsome, slender face. His ears taper to a graceful, understated point, unhidden by the short blond hair atop his head, carefully spiked. A single ruby earstud glistens at the base of his left ear, scintillating as his quick, energetic motions capture the light. There is an innocence in the face, a disarming enthusiasm and aggressive passion that shines through whatever his mood, reflecting the youth's underlying personality. Not quite mature, his body seems caught on the boundary between adolescence and adulthood. His movements carry with them a certain youthful awkwardness that is not fully offset by his natural elfin grace. Clad in a T-shirt for a popular thrash-metal band and a pair of tight-fitting black jeans, he appears to be a typical representative of his age group. A simple trenchcoat is slung over his shoulders, usually left unbuttoned. A pair of stylish velcro-fastened sneakers adorns his feet. + Molly Standing just at 1.7 meters tall the figure before you has their head covered by a form fitting black cowl. Concealing their face from view the headware gives them an almost evil appearance. A pair of black high tech looking goggles cover the eyes, the nearly opaque looking lenses conceal the eyes. A thin layer of black nylon complete the sinister look, removing any hint of humanity one might draw from knowing the ethnicity of the person they look upon. The material of the cowl and mask are matte black, seeming to draw in any light like a blackhole. The clothing the young woman wears is tight fitting, though clearly well armored. A black armored jacket stretches across her chest, the armor designed to flex and ripple like muscles when she moves. A pair of forearm guards stretch down along her arms, scalloped blades extending six inches in a backwards diagonal angle. The only hint of color in the outfit is a dark gray web belt that wraps around her waist. Several packed belt pouches dangle from the heavy belt and a stun baton rests against her right thigh. A pair of tight fitting synthleather pants hug her form like a second skin, the sleek material dives down into a pair of knee high boots. The boots themselves are armored, with forward facing shin guard. A low sensible heel shows that this footwear was designed with an eye to functionality not just style. + Effek A large male troll standing just over 8 foot. Wearing a black ski mask and goggles over his eyes one cannot even see any time of facial detail, one will note he is a troll and that his horns have either been removed or filed down, black pants and black plated combat boots. He is wearing a large black leather jacket, but one with a good look can see the plated armor underneath. Various equipment hang from his belts that are both around his waist and his leg belt. Flashlight, ammo, gas mask etc. The troll is looking more like a private military now more then a runner. + Page This man in his early thirties stands a little over five and a half feet tall. He's caucasian, but well tanned. Freckles dot his skin underneath the dark hair on his arms. His hair is a rich brown tone, like fertile earth, and flows in a gentle wave over his head. His face's features are indistinct at first guess, but the high cheekbones, freckles on his face, and just a hint of red in his hair might point to Irish blood somewhere. His eyebrows hover above his warm brown eyes, blending into the tan of his face. A smile often lurks about his lips, when he's not distracted by something. He is dressed in average, if clean, clothes, with a clean-cut sort of look about him. Black jeans hang down just so, the poly-leather shoes poking out from under them. Over that he wears a plain brown t-shirt made from the latest synthetics, the logo of the Saints on it. All this is wrapped up in a long black cloak. Around his neck, he wears a small black collar, with a little pendant on it fashioned from silver filigree. Synopsis: Plot In Progress Date: Jan, 24 2070 News casters have been running off constantly with upheaval to the south and west of Denver. Rumors of military action, political coups and strange goings on have been pouring in. Stories abound of Ute patriots being persecuted mercilessly. Just recently a short message left by one of your contacts has brought that struggle to your doorstep. A job offer and a request for help finds it's way through the channels to your ears. A rescue mission for the youngest child of a outspoken family supporting the Ute peoples. The contact hinted you could be looking at close to 25k if you were willing and able to do the job. The meet would be held on the move, in a van that would pick you up if you were interested, a disposable cellphone number is left, with instructions to dial it, and say the address where you wanted to be picked up, then disconnect. Page eyes the message in his email. Hmm. That really isn't the way he does things. So he shrugs, and calls up Slinger. "Hey Slinger - got this message about a rescue mission. Sounded like something you'd be interested in." He passes along the contact info. "If you end up taking it and it looks like you could use some more magical support, let me know - I'm not up to anything at the moment." There. Now if it's a trap, Slinger will be able to deal with it and feel all 'ha ha!' about defeating bad guys. If it's not, then Slinger might invite him along. Either way, Page wins. Slinger receives the message. Cautious, yes, the elf does a little checking — and soon finds out that Page received the same message. "Their operational security is good," the elf comments, thoughtfully. "Shall we do different pickup locations, be Mindlinked, just in case something is going badly with it? Gives the other one a chance to rescue the other and all that." Effek reads the mail and sighs, thinking to himself "Another rescue of a child, I do too many of thse. I am like the goddamn tooth fairy!" He grumbles gathering his gear in one big bag. He walsk out to the lobby of his apartment McAffery Towers. He pulls out his pocket secatary and dials the number. "McAffery Towers!" And then he hangs up, although he usually is not supsicious, children usually get picked up in vans on the go? On the phone, Page replies to Slinger, "We don't /both/ need to be in the van. This way someone will be there for backup if you need it." Waking up Molly peers at her poc-sec as it chirps happily. She blinks a few times and rolls out of bed. She brushes her fingers through her hair and she grabs her gear. She walks out of her room and locks the door behind her, heading down the street. She climbs into her van and programs in the address for the meet. «Plot» Slinger says, "Figure Page and Slinger will meet up, Page casts Mindlink on Slinger, and Slinger registers for the meet, with a pickup location in an alleyway outside the Red Rock Diner. Sound good to Page and the GM?" Shortly after dialing a van pulls up near the pickup locations, a pleasant but automated voice chimes out asking, "Sir or madam, did you call for a van?" The vehicle waits for a minute or two then repeats the message. "I did indeed," Slinger comments. He then steps toward the van, switching his vision into the astral realm, and eyes the thing, looking for a ward that might be protecting it. He does, after all, have a spell active. Effek looks at the van, then looks arounf. He laughs alittle aloud as he goes back to being serious, he shakes his head as he throws his bag in and gets inside himself. Slinger also has a rather large backpack, which is more than a bit heavy, and stuffed with his equipment. He was given no specific instructions regarding said equipment, so he brought most of his standard gear. After all, it might come in handy. And if there's a problem, then the J's should properly care for it. Risking one's reputation by not keeping a runner's gear safe, if it can't be transported, isn't good for business. Each van is identical. The driver's compartment is sealed off from the cargo area, which contains 4 captain's chairs, two upsized for trolls. A Trideo screen is on the wall between the driver and cargo area. The vans have no windows, and the chunky heavy doors hint at armoring. A small array of sattelite dishes are mounted on the top of each van. There do not appear to be any wards or active magic on the vans. The driver's area is fully reflective hiding the drive completely from sight. Settling down into one of the chairs, Molly gets comfortable. She folds her gloved hands on her lap, her armored cowl kept back over her shoulders. She looks around her eyes shifting to the astral as she settles in. Slinger climbs into the van, still smoking his cigarette. That's one of the things he brought with him. He places his backpack carefully on the floor beside him, the thing stuffed with what he is hauling. Careful observers would notice it is the disassembled version of his armor, collapsed down for easy transport, along with other magickal goods and gear. He drags on his cigarette as he drops into one of the chairs and belts himself in. "Yo. Good to go," he says, giving a wave to the glass. To Page, Slinger sends, ~Getting picked up by a van behind Red Rock Diner. So far, so good. Got my gear with me. Only thing that bothers me is how much cash this group obviously has, for one Ute child." The astral aura's inside the vans are highly charged, as if arguments have happened here frequently, a BG count of 2 exists from a combination of the emotion and "street noise" from the areas you pass through while the van is in motion. Effek sighs even though the van is alrge, nothing is ever large enough for him. He finds a seat one that is for trolls and plots down. The van may even rock a little when he does. He drags his bag over to him as he starts loading his guns. He grabs his ski mask after all one does not like to be identified so easily. He buckles his armor, Armored vest with Plats and covers his eyes with his goggles. When you settle in there is a polite chime and that same voice says, "Your conference will begin once all the attendees are available, thank you for using confidential conference, your gateway to secure and comfortable conversation." A corporate logo displays on the trid screen with an icon showing musical notes with a finger pushing it. «OOC» Slinger says, "Has Slinger heard of this service?" «OOC» Nightshade says, "TN4 for corporate security, communcations companies, or similar knowskill." «Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Intelligence vs TN 7 for "+3 defaulting penalty for ME3.": 1 1 2 2 2 3 3 4 5 5 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Slinger (#69) rolls Intelligence vs TN 7 for "+3 defaulting penalty for ME3. KP 1/37.": 2 2 3 3 3 4 5 9 11 17 = 3 Successes You paged Slinger with 'One of several communications companies in the area taking advantage of corporate paranoia, they use a number of on call vans that connect point to point with high altitude drones creating micro PLTGs. This provides a highly secure conference call service. You don't recall the parent company.'. Page goes about microwaving himself some dinner. These little frozen things aren't so bad… if you can ignore the plastic flavor. He sighs, settling back in his living room couch. ~How goes it?~ he asks Slinger on the mindlink interface. Slinger filters against the background count when he feels his energies slipping. Before calling for pickup, he used Physical Mask in his focus to disguise himself as someone rather different-looking than what he actually is — older, still blond, but with more rugged features, a little larger and older looking. Wearing something slightly more upscale than your usual ganger attire, but still very, very casual. And very clearly incorporating Saints colors. The youth lights up another cigarette and leans back in the chair. To Page, he sends, ~I've heard of this. Confidential Conference, they call it. Legit, I think. Wanna look it up? Just a way for all of us to join in on a conference, anonymously. Buncha matrixy-security stuff, but it's got a good rep. Might join in on it.~ After a few minutes the voice chimes in again, "Your conference will begin in 5 minutes, if you require more time please press the "Delay" button for an additional 5 minutes." Iconography indicates the on screen button. ~Nah,~ Page says. ~Just let me know how it goes.~ He continues on with his dinner. Mmm. Nutrisoy - it's what bodies crave! Effek looks about the van, the screen is having that blinding effect when one is in a dark room. He blinks alittle to get rid of the soft blue and white light that obscurres his vison. He doesnt press the button, not preffesional too keep one waiting. Pulling her cowl over her face, Molly adjusts the cover so that her features are concealed. She looks to the other chairs and then glances around the rear of the truck for any projection systems. She folds her arms across her stomach as she waits for the conference to begin. ~Roger. Will see if we end up needing you,~ Slinger sends to Page. He flicks his cigarette into the ashtray, then reaches for another one from the pack, casually lighting it up while he sees exactly how far back these chairs will rock. Each van begins moving, though the driving is very smooth and the motion is almost unnoticable after a short while. After the five minutes pass the screen blinks on to reveal an older gentleman, seated in what appears to be a van much like the one you are in. His hair is peppered with gray and stylishly cut though it is mussed on the sides as though he recently had been holding his head in his hands. His suit is well made, but bunched up around his thighs having recently slid forward to the edge of his seat in order to sit up straight. His gaze flickers down towards the ground then back up, shifting between three locations in front of him. He clears his throat then says, "Good evening, my name is," he pauses for a moment, "…Mr. Johnson. I have work that needs to be done." He looks down at a datapad in his hand before continuing, "I need a location and extraction of a," another pause, "…target. The…target is suspected to be in hiding in or around Flagstaff." He stops for a moment looking up but before anyone can get a word in he blinks and looks down quickly, "Sorry." he says then continues, "The pay will be twenty five thousand per individual who assists in her rescue…" His eyes widen a little then he adds quickly trying to cover the word, "extraction." At this point you cannot see or hear eachother, just the man's image filling he screen display. Effek nods but reamins quite. He notes to himself the eye movemnt of three different directions anlong with the studdering voice and the correction of ones — own words. He crosses his arms after setting back down his bag and lifts one foot up over his leg waitinf for the J to continue. Slinger leans forward a little, gazing at the man. "She's your daughter? Granddaughter?" the elf asks. He's showing sympathy, not the cold professionalism he might have expected. "Sir, you don't have to read from a script. This is obviously hard for you. The best thing you can do is tell us the absolute truth, what we can do for you, and how we can help. And if what I heard from my contact is true — there weren't any real details — then I'm going to do everything in my power to make this happen for you." There is passion in voice of the the young 'ganger'. "This isn't the first time the Ute government has done something like this. If they start to pay the price, maybe it'll be stopped, and some family such as yours can be spared this heartbreak. Not everyone can afford to cover the expenses of what we do, and I wish I could spend all my time doing missions like this, and not have to charge for my services. I truly do." Looking to the chairs, Molly hmns and looks back to the screen. She looks at the man, her features concealed. She says, "Clearly I am not working alone on this job sir. Would you mind patching through the team I will be working with?" She remains still, looking more like a statue than a living creature as she addresses the monitor. The man's eyes lock on the far right of the three spots he was looking and a visible wave of relief runs over his face, he opens his mouth to start speaking then pauses his eyes flipping to the center position, "No, I mean, yes." he becomes visibly flustered for a moment, "I have more than one line open." he says taking a deep breath, his eyes keep flickering to the right, "I will be connecting the lines and be able to tell you about…provide details regarding the matter once you have accepted the payment terms and committed." He glances down at the datapad, coloring a little and looking to the right again as he says, "You will receive 5 thousand in advance for your services." He finishes in a bit of a rush. Slinger isn't going to haggle this one, that much is clear. "I'll accept it, tentative to whether this is even possible," the elf replies. "The Ute government may be poor, but they've dumped everything that have into security. So if it's doable, then I'm in. You can call me 'Slinger'." The name might or might not ring a bell to the Johnson, depending whether he's done any research reputation. "And yes, I would like to join the call with the rest of the team." Effek nods "Effek is the name. I aint even going to bother with history, just details. If yo will be so kind." He smiles. "I have no problem with a rescue attempt, however if there is going to be travel required we might run into an issue with equipment. The five thousand in advance is good, that will likely help me hire someone to get me across the boarders," says Molly. She does a little mental calculation thinking of the people she knows that could handle such an undertaking. The distinguished Mr. Johnson's eyes track through first the right, then the left, then the center position he was looking at, nodding each time. He reaches down pressing a button on the datapad and the trideo screens you are each looking at transition from one screen to three, Mr.Johnson's face central on each screen bracketed by the other two runners sitting in vans equipped similarly to your own. "Thank you all for agreeing, if you look below the screens you should see a small slot opening, inside is your deposit payment." He looks down to the datapad, "This is Slinger, Effek, and…I'm sorry, I don't know what the young lady calls herself." As he says each name he taps the datapad and the outline around that persons face lights for a moment. "Creep," answers Molly in regards to her handle. She takes in the names, her expression hidden as she recalls the reputations of each name she has heard. She reaches into the slot with her gloved hand and extracts the credstick from it. She slides it into one of the pockets of her jacket as she looks at the screen. "Who're you calling a creep?" Slinger retorts, but with a grin that indicates he's teasing. That said, he knocks ash from his cigarette and leans forward. "Who is the young lady in question, and where is she being held? What happened? Anything you can tell us might be helpful to our planning, might be a lead we can use to acquire more information." Mr. Johnson smile momentarily at the exchange but looks tired and drawn, "I'm sending you over the data now, it should take just a moment to transfer." There's a whirring sound as information is transferred to an optical chip which will be dispensed from a slot to the right of the screen. "Her name is Gigi, Gwyndollen Grace-Renault. Her family owns a great deal of land and a significant portion of stock in several key companies involved in the current concerns facing the Ute nation. Her father and mother," he pauses for a second, "along with the rest of her family were taken recently. We suspect this is an attempt to cause her families land and holdings to dissolve as she is the last legal heir named on the wills." He pauses looking down at the datapad again, "We think she knew what was happening and ran, her family was always one to be prepared, so she had some training and she was…is" he catches himself,"she is awakened, an adept but she's only 15." "So she's not currently in custody," Slinger fills in. He looks relieved. "That helps. Means we aren't going to have to break into a prison to get her out. But it means that finding her is going to be difficult." The elf contemplates for a moment. He reaches for the chip, slots it into his pocket secretary, and skims along it. He has a datajack, but often uses the old-fashioned technology. "Where are we extracting her to? Where is considered safe?" the elf asks, next. «Plot» Molly is taking a picture of the Johnson with her eyes. "Interesting," says Molly to the magical status of the girl. She nods her head and she says, "Is there any phrase we can use to let her know we're not out to harm her?" Her brows lift behind her mask as she asks, "Would she know you by face?" She keeps her hands rested across her stomach as she speaks in even tones to the Johnson. The datafile on Gwyndollen is extensive, human 1.65 meters tall brown hair with red highlights just a touch overweight. Her skin ruddy in most of the pictures on file though several from when she was young shows paler skin, she probably tans year round. Schools attended, a list a friends, known hangouts, all marked with notes. When you reach the family section reads like an obituary, deceased deceased deceased deceased missing since, missing since, deceased, deceased, deceased for over 80 people. The dates next to each note are within three days of eachother, the last was about two weeks ago. One name is highlighted and the note next to it reads, "Sounded nervous." The name is Judith Simons, the note indicates she runs a charity outreach program for battered women. Mr. Johnson looks at the screens shaking his head, "No, I don't know if they had a safety phrase or anything, and the only place I can think of that would be safe is as deep into the heart of the Ute resistance as we can hide her." The hand holding the datapad shakes a bit, "I grew up with one of her uncles, we served together. I only met Gigi once, when she was still a toddler…she was a terror, pulled a tablecloth off the table and broke every piece of R…" he stops himself, "…of her uncle's finest china set." He sits up a little sobering himself, "I couldn't do anything for him but I'll be damned if I'm going to let whoever did this get away with it. I've got the name of a friend in Pheonix, he can get her inside the resistance where she'll be safe." "I assume Ms. Simmons has been contacted," Slinger remarks, after reading through the file. He also checks the last known location for Ms. Simmons, most notably, which Nation she might be occupying. "Where was Gigi's last known location? Was she in Ute territory, or outside it?" Mr. Johnson looks over at Slinger's image, "Ms Simmons works out of Flagstaff on the PCC side. Gigi was last seen around Flagstaff, I tried calling everyone but I didn't want to cause more harm than good…and I've got family, I can't have happen to them what happened to…" he trails off at the thought of it. Slinger nods firmly. "So if we can get her out of there, somewhere safe, we can first protect her, and second, we can keep the Ute government from some money they desperately need right now, which will help put an end to these atrocities. Once they can't afford the MSD, we'll see less of this. I just wish I could find a way to bring those fraggers down," the elf mutters. «OOC» Nightshade says, "Flagstaff is shared between PCC and UTE, effectively it is part of the border." «OOC» Slinger says, "So, looks like we're heading to Flagstaff. We need to arrange secure transit to there if possible." Mr. Johnson start nodding along with Slinger, sitting a little straighter his shoulders squaring off looking for a moment like a military man, then his shoulders slump, "My family…I can't…I need to…" he takes a breath, "Is there anything more you need? The datafile should be complete. My friend…" he shakes his head obviously trying to salvage some professionalism, "…my contact is holding the balance of your pay, his information is in the packet." "No sir, I think that is all I require," says Molly as she collects the data file. She scans it with a data reader to make sure there is nothing dangerous attached to it. Once the machine beeps clear she uploads it into her poc-sec. She looks around the vehicle and she says, "If you can have this vehicle drop me off at a location with the others we can begin our job and hopefully bring it to a speedy and safe conclusion." Slinger checks the location of the contact, just to make certain. "We will keep your information discreet, sir. Your family has to be your own top priority. But you are doing something amazing for your old friend. I, for one, honor you for it. If there were more like you, this sort of thing wouldn't happen in the first place." To the others, Slinger says, quietly, "Anybody have a problem meeting down in the Warrens, Angel's Delight? Secure location, and no ties to the Ute at all." Effek nods in silent agreement, as he has been doing ever since his pay was mentioned. Slinger pauses. "Sir… I'll also mention, I have one more, who was invited, but would only come along if he thought he was needed. I think his services might be helpful. Would that be a problem? I don't think we need an advance for him. But I think his services and abilities would be useful." Nods, "I sold part of the stock we held together, I thought it would be better used for this than going towards… I had enough budgeted for four of you, if you know someone to bring who could make this succeed, do it." Across the Mindlink, Slinger sends, "Head over to the Angel's Delight, if you get a chance. Got a decent project. Not huge pay, twenty-five kay, but a good cause. Yeah, I know, I know." The elf glances to the others, making sure they are fine with the location. "I have no problem with the Angel's Delight," says Molly as she hears the location being suggested. She shrugs her shoulders and she says, "See you as soon as this meeting is over." The vans circle back taking a few minutes to arrive and drop you off at the same location they picked you up, a chime warns, "Please be sure to take all personal items with you when you leave, the vehicle will be sanitized after you exit." ~Wait, so you actually asked for money this time? Well, that's a start.~ Page seems genuinely amused. ~Alright, I'll meet you there.~ Slinger hrfs. ~Gonna have expenses.~ The youth grabs his equipment, then looks into the van as he leaves, and sends a Sterilize spell into it — making sure the ashtray gets hit by it. Always good to take precautions. Once that's done, he steps out into the alleyway, and starts to walk to where his SUV is parked. ~Want me to pick you up?" he asks Page. When the van door closes there's a muffled fwooshing sound as a sanitizing system kicks in. «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Athletics vs TN 4: 1 1 1 3 4 4 4 4 5 7 8 = 7 Successes Once the van rolls to a stop, Molly gets out and steps into an alley. She runs up the wall and vaults over the edge. Selecting her route she begins running across the rooftop, and she leaps into the air. She lands on the next rooftop, tumbling and rolling to her feet. She drops down off the edge of the building, her cloak fluttering in the air. She lands and pulls out her keyfob, pressing the summon button she calls in her auto-nav, her van moving to pick her up. + Angel's Delight Pool Hall Angel's Delight Pool Hall You are now inside a 20 by 15 meter room of the pool hall. Booths line the walls along the front and the back while pool tables take up the center of the room. The exit is on the south wall near the western corner of the hall. The bar is about two meters away, spreading down the remaining 13 meters where it bends to take up another 4 meters along the north wall. A door to the back marked 'staff only' is on the north wall about 2 meters from the west corner. There is a large presence of gangers wearing yellow bands, or with halos or any of the other various symbols used by the gang known as the Saints. The crowd in here is mostly human and ork, but other races are tolerated. (Elves will get treated worse, but only if they seem 'high-and-mighty'). The walls are synthetic wood paneling, and are covered with various archaic photographs. The hall looks like it hasn't been updated in the last ten years or more. The smell of smoke flows lightly through the room, but the ventilation system keeps it under control. It fits in with the softer sounds from the sound system which plays various songs at a moderate level. There is a panel along the north wall where patrons can pick what they want to hear (for a price, of course). Slinger stops to pick up Page at the High Arcana, then heads into the Warrens not too far away. He tucked his equipment into the secret compartment once he arrives at his vehicle, and it doesn't take long to get to the Angel's Delight. Ah, familiar place. Slinger walks in the front door, shoots a grin to one of the gangers there. "Yo, Michael," he greets one of those familiar to him. "Got some friends comin' in. Got a private space we could use?" + Slinger has the Contact The Saints  -----> Contact for Slinger (#69) <----- Contact Name: The Saints Level: 3 Type: gang GM Note: Slinger has had a long association with the Saints, and is well-known as a protector and an associate of the gang. Nearly all members have at least heard of him, and he has, on several occasions, helped them rescue hostages. During the plague in the Warrens, Slinger ran the blockade to deliver about 200,000 =Y= worth of supplies to them, helping them establish a more dominant position within the Warrens. Angel's Flame is a friend of his from the early days of Shadowrunning, and since then Slinger has slowly earned the trust of Gabriel. %r%rSlinger has a long history of assisting the gang, and while not blooded or flying colors, he is considered to be family. While she's not as well known with the Saints as Slinger is, Molly has has offered her fair share assisting the gang. She's not stopped at the door, or hassled by the rank and file. She's taken the time to put away her armored cowl and tuck her cloak into her duffle bag. Once indoors she begins looking around, her expression calm. Michael nods, "'course Slinger, whatcha need to go with it, a few girls to keep 'em entertained or just some chips?" "Just some chips, maybe a little booze. Maybe a little extra, one of 'em's a troll." He grins and slots his credstick to pay for it. He could probably get it for free, but it's hardly one of the big-ticket expenses for his monthly budget. That done, he gives Michael a clap on the shoulder, then waits for the others before we're led to one of the more private back rooms. He shoots Molly a wave once he recognizes her — though he, himself, looks distinctly different than when she saw him in the vehicle. Effek tromps in, the gangers start puffing out their chests and looking big as the large troll enters, the machismo settles to tolerable levels however once he moves over towards Slinger. Michael nods, "Yeah, sure Sling. You gotta let me hook you up with one of the girls someday though, they're all over me for not sending them your way. Page looks over the group, and just smirks a bit at Michael's comment. Once they're in the back room, he finds himself a comfy-looking spot and sprawls out. "So, Slinger. What's the plan?" Creep gets a few nods and at least one or two warmer smiles from the larger members of the Saints, they're careful not to let their appreciation show too much, god help them if they accidentally insult the guy serving the beer now by smiling at someone who serves the beer at other times. Slinger greets Effek, then shoots Michael a smirk. "I figured the girls woulda given up with all the rumors circulating around about me. Don't tell me nobody's whispered that stuff." He smirks, then glances to Molly. "I'm workin' though, today. Just the room would be cool, scan?" He gives Michael a grin. Michael is actually kind of cute, for an ork. Of course, Slinger tends to like bad boys. Having been waved over, Molly starts in the direction of Slinger. She folds her hands behind her back, resting her knuckles on her hips. She hmns and follows him into the back room. She says in her usual soft tones, "We're going in the back for a meeting, yeah?" Michael laughs showing them into a back room, "Sling, them girls swear they'll straighten you out easier than a paperclip." Once we're in the room, Slinger settles down. "All right. The first thing we need is transport there. I'd rather not go this without my gear. We'll need transport there, smuggled most likely, and some mode of transport once we're there. Might have to rent something. Flagstaff is a divided city like Denver, so the first thing is, everybody got a SIN that'll pass muster? I have two, but frankly, one of them has been busted by the Ute. They don't like me much. So I'll have to use the other." "Getting us in shouldn't be a problem, I have a couple people that run guns through the area, so we can get a ride on one of their shipments," suggests Molly. She takes one of the seats herself and she says, "I have a couple SINs, as if they'll hold up I am pretty sure they will. They're clean." She shrugs her shoulders and she says, "As for transport out, and while we're there, not so sure about that. Most of my people are in Denver." Page gives a little shrug. "You know me," he says. "Borders don't bother me so much." And that seems about it for the mage. Slinger nods. "Right. Ring up you contacts, then, and let's see what we can arrange. I can bring my SUV, but that's likely to increase the smuggling costs. Better to rent something once we get there — if we got a fixer who can hook us up with a clean, nondescript vehicle, so much the better. + Molly has the Contact Crazy Ivan -----> Contact for Molly (#4181) <----- Contact Name: Crazy Ivan Level: 1 Type: weapon smuggler GM Note: Crazy Ivan is smuggling weapons to and from Denver specializing somewhat in dealing with Russia. Uses: -Weapon Aquisistion -Smuggler Infos -Russia Infos -Rare Russian Wares. GM Note: Crazy Ivan's getting a little too old for this drek. He came over to Denver at the behest of the Russian Mob to help facilitate the flow of weapons in and out of Denver. He's loud prefers doing deals in his native Russian. Ivan likes to live large as one might expect for a troll of his size. His large belly is often stuffed into tailor made suits of the latest Eastern European styles. While on the outside he is jovial he's not one that ever forgets a grudge. He's like the loud drinking buddy that pats people on the shoulder a little too hard. Stats:B: 8 Q: 2 S: 8 C: 2 I: 5 W: 4 Skills: Computer: 3 Electronics: 3 Negotiation: 5 Etiquette: 5 Submachine Guns: 5 Brawling: 4 Pistols (B/R): 3 Rifles (B/R): 4 Submachine Guns (B/R): 6 Heavy Weapons (B/R): 6 Knowledge Skills: Weapon Acquisition: 6 Russian History: 4 Smuggling Routes: 4 Underworld Rumors: 4 Ivan picks up the phone, "Hellowski?" There's a half second pause, then he starts laughing holding the phone a little away from himself as he finishes a conversation something vodka. Then returns to the phone, "Dah?" Laughing softly, Molly says, "Pri`viet Ivan," her chipped Russian flawless. She continues speaking to the troll in his native tongue, "I am looking to get some transport for myself and three friends. One of which is almost as big as you are." She looks over the people gathered as she asks, "You can handle that for me, da?" Ivan is still laughing, "I would if it were possible, but you know there no-one even close to as big as Ivan." He switches to English to say , "I am the big man." then drops back into russian, "But you know Ivan is Crazy, so I will try it even if it is impossible, for you. Where do you need to go little Creep?" "We need to go to Flagstaff Ivan," says Molly as she continues in Russian. She paces as she talks on her poc-sec, she then says, "We need to go as soon as we can manage." Slinger rocks his chair back on its rear legs as he lights up another cancer stick, and tosses a wary look toward the door. Was that giggling he heard outside, or was he imagining it? Ivan goes quiet for a bit, "Ah, little Creep, that is not in Denver, even Crazy Ivan knows that it is not." He tsks, "But you know Ivan is Crazy, and that is why you ask him these things." You can hear the tap and click as Ivan works on a datapad. "Let me see if you need to be as Crazy as Ivan to try this little Creep." + Molly Etiquette Test «Plot» Nightshade says, "Let's call it Molly's ettiqutte vs TN 10, to work through with Ivan a way to transport people down untraced. Each success is a person Effek (as the biggest person) is held till last success. He's a gun runner specialized in Denver so the TN is high for being out of scope for him." «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you": 1 3 3 5 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you KP 1/21": 2 5 11 11 = 2 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) - 2 vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you KP 3/21": 1 3 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) - 2 vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you KP 6/21": 3 5 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) - 2 vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you KP 10/21": 4 8 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Molly (#4181) rolls Etiquette (Street) - 2 vs TN 10 for "Karma Pool, I will miss you KP 15/21": 3 21 = 1 Success "It wouldn't be too hard to put us in with a shipment of guns, we'll be sure to keep ourselves out of the way," says Molly as she listens to Ivan speak. She shrugs her shoulders and she says, "Thanks for the help Ivan." A few more taps, "Yes, yes, Crazy Ivan is foxy!" he misses the reference when he drops into English, "You are in luck little creep, I have a shipment that will get you there, and the truck isn't even refrigerated! Ah, four hours little Creep, I can give you eight before it leaves but four would be better. It can pick you up in the Free Trade Zone. You get there and Crazy Ivan will get you anywhere." "Anybody got a contact who can arrange for a rental car once we get there?" he asks the group, casually, once the situation is explained to him. It's a high-risk, low-comfort way of travelling, but it'll get us there. Getting out again may be the challenge. Slinger glances to the others. "Make sure it's a round-trip ticket." "Spasiba, Ivan," says Molly as she hears Slinger speak. She adds, "We'll be counting on you to get us a way back with one of your other deliveries. I wouldn't go to anyone but the one who is crazy like a fox, da?" Ivan laughs, "That is good little Creep, you come to the big man who is foxy and crazy and I will bring you home. For most, I say 1000 each way, but I am crazy, I make it 4000 for all of you, both ways."