Meeting The Maker
The Grapevine. It's an active enough thing. Lets be real. The Denver shadows, while active are NOT an exhaustive thing; It's still a community as opposed to a city. You know people. They know people. And so some how, you got contacted. The information is simple enough. Join a gentleman of station and class at the Palatine Summit, a well-to-do restaurant in the heart of the FTZ, in a AAA sector, for a nice evening of drinks and dinner. That means: No illegal nada. No guns. No magic. No foci. Nothing you don't want a random cop seeing and then throwing you in jail for.

Popper can get his weapons to the door, but not through them. He pulls up in a Ford Americar with plates reading 'Toymakr' and parks or leaves it in the hands of the Valet, whichever turns up. He's dressed up for the occasion, wearing a business suit and looking as out of place as a rock floating on the surface of a lake as he walks into the building.

Frost heads to the place in his best outfit, leaving his special items at home, along with his ally spirit. He actually pulls off the corporate look well, looking like a CEO of a minor corporation at least. He leaves everything at home, trusting that if an emergency comes up, well he still has his elementals.

Slinger, actually, does take most of his foci… relying upon his Masking to help him get through the door. But he does leave his guns and his armor behind. What he /does/ take, though, is the brand new suit that he bought specifically for this event. Good to have nice clothes, even if he hates wearing them. With this crowd, clothing matters. He puts the thing on, carefully, and then drives himself toward the location in question, making sure the SUV is clean of anything that might be a problem. Valet parking, he's sure — which means it's important to give them a nice, clean vehicle.

Duncan Sorenson looks good. He's got nicely coifed black hair, his eyes are a respectable shade of brown. His suit is well pressed. He does not look out of place, not in the AAA sector, not in Detroit's Boardrooms or anywhere else respectable.

He also looks nothing like BSyde. He enters with Bambi, herself dressed in a cocktail gown. He makes his way for the elevator, leaving the very legal looking Gladius downstairs and Scabbard driving around the city.

Slinger glances over at BSyde as the two of them end up next to the elevator. Nods to the dwarf. Blinks. /Stares/. "Holy crap," he says, with a broad grin. "You clean up /nice/!"

Duncan smiles then. "Omae, back in the D-Side, all up in Knight's Hizzouse, You gotta roll legit an'step correct if you don't want no size-troll combat toots on yer crankshaft. Conformity, it's a survival thang, yo!"

SlingGM chuckles. "Yeah. Ditto why I don't wear suits much, but will if I have to. Shuld at least be a nice meal." He steps into the elevator when it arrives, and prepares for the security check to come…

Frost arrives probably just in time to see the elevator close on slinger and byside. He waits for the next one and heads up alone.
Moving forward to the Palatine Summit…


The Palatine Summit

The room screams opulence and wealth, the sort of thing that belongs in a Royal Palace. It is thusly that the Palatine Summit lives up to its name. The marble floor spills out before you, each tile inlaid with over 1000 diamonds, 2400 pieces of mother of pearl, 500 pieces of black onyx, and 400 pieces of abalone shell to create an intricate spiral design in black and white. Black Eaglewood tables with vicuna tablecloths shot through with silver threads are set carefully throughout the room, each placed at precisely the right position to both capture the feng-shei of the room as well as give each the utmost in privacy.

The crystal walls and ceiling reveal the city in its splendor, giving the illusion that one is dining in midair. Carefully hidden Zeiss lamps twinkle like stars, pooling each table in an individual ray of light, adding to the sense of privacy.

The serving staff is impeccably dressed in custom tuxedos or evening gowns depending on their sex, moving silently through the room as they perform their duties. Entry is all but hidden by cunningly designed mirrors in the center of the room, allowing the staff and guests to enter and exit the small ramp to the floor beneath where the kitchen, restroom's, and elevators are positioned.


Met at the front, near the hostesses station, the hostess smiles at Popper. "The private room will be open in a few moments, and that is where your party tonight will be seating. Please, I'm very sorry for the delay…"

Popper smiles, the scar on his face twisting the expression into a near smirk though the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes prove the pleasant intent. "I understand completely ma'am. If nothing else the rest of my party hasn't arrived yet, so I'm happy to wait."

Slinger has already ditched the street accent, and while his hair is a little spiked, it's tastefully so, just in front, while his hair in back is tied in a neat ponytail. He enters along with the dwarf, talking quietly with him, and glances up to see Popper there, waiting. "Well, they haven't thrown you out yet. That's a good sign," he says to the other elf, sotto voce.

Frost arrives on the next elevator and approaches the group once he spots them. He makes no comment, just remains quiet. He does give Byside a second look, but says nothing about the dwarfs appearance.

Popper chuckles softly and shakes his head, "I had a commission once kid, I know how to behave in a place like this, I just don't like it." is his reply, equally soft.

Slinger chuckles. "See, and here I thought it was a nice place until I saw you," he adds, keeping his voice low. Don't want to offend the staff of the place /too/ much. Slinger also very much resists the urge to give Popper a playful punch in the arm.

A soft snort is Pops only reply, though he smirks in appreciation.

Bambi, walking with Blindside, is quiet and simply walks alongside the Dwarf.

"Ah, gentlemen?" Asks the young, very beautiful hostess. "If you'll follow me this way, your accommodations are ready."

Popper falls into step behind the hostess, paying far more attention to the clientele and potential threats than to her womanly charms.


«OOC» Popper says, "Looking for possible armed guards, cops, etc."
«OOC» Popper says, "Oh, and if there are decent windows, checking the skyline for snipers."
«OOC» Vulcan says, "Plenty of windows, but a security check will reveal quarter inch thick, double paned ballistic glass."
«OOC» Popper says, "So no snipers. I'm good with that. :)"
«OOC» Popper says, "Well, it's theoretical possible, but unlikely."
«OOC» Vulcan says, "HARDCORPS is the security provider. 2 armed, but un-uniformed officers are present."


Slinger gives the woman a warm, but chaste, smile, walking after her with the rest of his group. He can cover a meal here, but he suspects the Don will insist upon buying. He proceeds into the room, his attention on who else might be present.

Frost follows along behind the rest of the group, he glances around, but seems to be confident if they wanted him killed, it wouldn't be here.

The private room could seat 40 comfortably, if subdivided in to tables and booths. Instead, tonight, it is a single long conference table, set with many chairs, each bearing a name plate. S. Linger, P. Opper, F. Rost, B. Syde, B. Ambi, N. Ine, Q. Uade, D. Umah, R. Aine, N. Yssa.


«Auto-Judge[]» Nyssa (#3878) rolls Disguise (to Vulcan) for "+4 for Disguise Toolkit and Poly Mask ahead of time":
1 1 5


A look of consternation crosses Popper's features as he notes the name on the placard, but he moves to stand behind his chair and waits for the other shoe to drop.

Frost pauses as he passes the cards for Nine and Quade, his eyes narrow slightly, but he continues on until he reaches the seat designated for him. He stands behind it a moment, waiting until he is told to sit.

Slinger eyes the card, and lets out a slow sigh. "Why?" he mouths, glancing over at Blindside, gesturing at the placards. But he smiles warmly at whoever else might be in the room, and stands behind his seat, waiting for everyone to arrive before being seated.

No one else is currently in the room.. BSyde looks to Slinger… "I dunno. I'm not exactly, uh… Good… at this shadowrunning drek, you know." He says then, looking to his place-setting. "Maybe they are trying to be polite? I mean, just cause we work together, don't mean we know real names?"

Popper comments, "If it was who I was hoping for I'd expect a different name at my place, and frankly would give the man the honor he deserves. Now? Frankly, I'm a bit nervous."

Frost grunts softly "It appears thier intelligence apparatus is far better than anything we could understand. There were things certain people didn't know enough to tell."

Slinger chuckles. "Yeah. But why can't it just say 'Slinger'? Or 'M. Slinger" or "A. Slinger"? It's a single word. Just a name. A handle. It's like they're doing it on purpose. I think they did, in Boston… kind of a reminder that I wasn't one of them.

"They knew I was alive, that limits the possibilities here Frost." says the older of the elves.

She's not running that late, honest. Nyssa, at least one might assume Nyssa, is dressed in a rather nice pantsuit that was surely a pain to find. Because we must all face the fact that Nyssa is not a petite woman. She's larger, sturdier and stronger. But money was paid and the clothes compliment her. Because she's wearing a polymimetic mask, she doesn't look like she ever has before, and her hair is a different color (dark brown). And she wears lightly frosted glasses that really just make it harder to see the natural colors of her eyes. But she doesn't really do anything to hide who she is, she'll hover near her nameplate'd seat and be short on small talk.

"Possibilities." Says the large frame of the man who now darkens the doorway. "Ain't life a bitch with all its possibilities." The cigar smoking ork, black in complexion. He steps in to the room, offering nods to those he knows.

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"Yall have a seat. The others will be in in a few moments."

SlingGM glances over at Frost. "I'm the one who invited you… who asked you to come," the youth says quietly. He glances at the table, hoping to see ashtrays. "We might as well be seated, at least," he mutters, slipping into his chair. Interesting that we are the only ones here. He shifts his vision to the astral. Even if there is something invisible to astral sight like a bomb, sometimes those who planted it will leave a trail of their malevolence.

As quickly as he started to sit down, Slinger stands back up. "Mr. Surcreasi. Good to see you again, sir," Slinger says — and there is genuine respect in his voice. It takes a lot to rise to the rank that he holds. And from what Slinger understands, he's at least vaguely ethical, also difficult in that position.

Popper gives the ork a respectful nod, acknowledging him with simply "Mr. Sucreasi.", and takes a seat.

Frost has no clue who the fellow is, but notes slingers reaction, as well as poppers. He makes no comment though, not being disrespectful, he just doesn't have anything to say. He takes a seat since he was told to sit.

Nyssa looks curiously at the man who comes in to address them. Sucreasi, she learns from Slinger's greeting to the man. She will not give any such greeting. She takes her seat at the man's invitation and closes her hands in front of her.

Luther takes his seat near the head, but not AT the head of the table, at one of the unmarked seats. "So. No little miss niner-fourty-niner, eh?" He says, puffing the cigar. "No Dumah-ass… No Suzy Q-uade. They not get the memo?"

Blindside sits down, his seat next to Bambi and Slinger…

"I wasn't able to reach Quade or Dumah," Slinger explains quietly. "Tried to leave messages, but I had to be discreet. I didn't figure you wanted this sort of business left on voice mail where it could be easily overheard. So I just left messages for them to contact me. Haven't heard back in time. My apologies. As for… the last one." He winces at the mention of her name. "I think she is trying very hard to pretend all of this never happened. She sincerely regrets her involvement with any of it, I believe." He pauses. "I think she's scared, sir," he says.

Frost watches Slinger as he responds, then looks away, he refrains from making any remarks about two of the people mentioned. He looks towards the man in charge at the moment, waiting to see what sort of response comes from this.

Popper simply sits and listens, not having had the opportunity to inform any of the other members.

"Girls got a right to be!" Says Sucreasi then. "She was involved in the death of people who have friends who want to see their killers dead." He shrugs then. "But if they ain't up to coming to a politely offered meeting, well… we'll just have to deal with that later." He stubs out the cigar then. "In a few minutes, the dons of the families are coming in here. I want to know which oen of you asshats is going to speak for the group of you."

Nyssa's eyebrows arch slightly over the rim of her silver glasses. /That's/ interesting. "And what will one of us be speaking…about?" she asks curiously.

Popper offers, "I would be willing to speak if the others aren't comfortable with it. I've had experience with the families dating back to Don Innocenti, as well as having certain personal interest in the good of the families."

Sucreasi exhales, looking over to Nyssa. "Everyone in this room was part and parcel to the death of several respected members of the community. Now, your boy died, so thats something, but the point is… that don't matter much to the boys who really want to kill each and every one of you, especially that fragger who launched the missile. It's personal. Now, this meeting here tonight, is to broker a peace. They stop looking over their shoulders, stop trying to find and kill you… and you get to stop worrying about it yourselves. Yall are gonna walk out of here with a few markers owed, but, if you keep your wits to you, you're gonna walk out of here alive, and with no major issues."

Nysaa's head tilts a bit to the side at that little bit. She mutters something faintly in Japanese. Then her eyes narrow slightly, though thankfully it's hidden a bit behind her glasses. "Perhaps not a terrible idea to offer them our 'missile man' as it were, depending on what they ask." Clearly more for the benefit of the group than to Sucreasi. He's not exactly in the decision making loop.

Popper looks to the others at the table and comments, "Better we know who the face is for this meeting now Nyssa, that person can still take the opinions of the rest into account during dealing, but the heads are going to want to know who to target."

Sucreasi shrugs. "So. Yall figure out who's talken for ya." Says the man as he stands up. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Food will be sent in, drinks too, so relax a bit. None of you are gonna die tonight."

"As long as you're mindful toward not agreeing single-handedly for all of us in any point of…sensitivity, you speaking is acceptable," Nyssa replies after a moment's more thought.

Frost frowns slightly "I'm not comfortable with certain people being unavailble, and possibly punished because of it. You may speak for me though Popper."

Slinger glances to the others, nods quietly. "If others want me to, I can speak. But I tend to tell the truth as I see it." He listens to the ork's words, and exhales a quiet breath into the air, visibly stressed by those words. Right now he could use a smoke. "I figured it was personal, sir, when we did the first part of this mission. If they'd been able to finish torturing Retro, then they woulda gotten even more information. And frankly, if they captured me… I was afraid I'd end up revealing who hired me. I couldn't have that. We had to protect our asset because of what he knew. Even if he was an idiot."
The words given, though, are very welcome. He thought all this had been resolved in Boston, but apparently that is not the case. Apparently there is still more Price owed.

Popper shoots Nyssa a disgusted look then shakes his head. "If you don't feel that I'm qualified, then please don't feel that I'm insisting Nyssa."

Frost frowns slightly "I'm not comfortable with certain people being unavailble, and possibly punished because of it. You may speak for me though Popper."

Slinger glances to the others, nods quietly. "If others want me to, I can speak. But I tend to tell the truth as I see it." He listens to the ork's words, and exhales a quiet breath into the air, visibly stressed by those words. Right now he could use a smoke. "I figured it was personal, sir, when we did the first part of this mission. If they'd been able to finish torturing Retro, then they woulda gotten even more information. And frankly, if they captured me… I was afraid I'd end up revealing who hired me. I couldn't have that. We had to protect our asset because of what he knew. Even if he was an idiot."
The words given, though, are very welcome. He thought all this had been resolved in Boston, but apparently that is not the case. Apparently there is still more Price owed.

Popper shoots Nyssa a disgusted look then shakes his head. "If you don't feel that I'm qualified, then please don't feel that I'm insisting Nyssa."

Nyssa turns her head slowly and looks evenly at Popper and at length. "I did not question your qualification. Mr. Sucreasi suggested that we may end up in some sort of debt to these men. I just requested that you not agree to put me in someone's debt without my consent."

Mr. Sucreasi looks back to SLinger. "Oh, hey, I gotcha man. Shit was what it was. But that don't matter much to the Mancini's that still around, or those in the Ratto Crews who supported them. Gotta save some face on both sides to put this bitch to bed."

Popper gives her a somewhat patronizing smile as he replies "If we end up in debt, it won't be because I agreed to anything Nyssa. These men are seriously offended, and I'll do what I can to appease, but eventually it comes down to what they are willing to accept as compensation. Fair?"

SlingGM nods to Surcreasi. "Sir, what needs to be done needs to be done. As long as you and Mr. Innocenti are pleased with the work that I did, what happens in public can be what it is."
Slinger nods quietly. "I owe one hundred fifty grand a year for life," the youth points out. "To the family of one of the men. Fortunately, I don't think any of them are elves. So that at least somewhat limits the liability. A little."

Nyssa opens her hands towards Popper in a sort of 'so be it' gesture. "You cannot dictate what they accept," she agrees and clasps her hands again, seeming to be done.

Popper nods to Nyssa, then looks around the table again. Seeing no blatant disagreement he then turns to Sucreasi and says "It seems that I'm the face tonight Sir." then falls silent.

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