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GM: Feather
Players: Posh, Lost, Nine
Synopsis: A craving for chinese food turns into a run-in with a Triad boss for Posh and Lost. World's worst first impression for Feather.
Date: January 3rd, 2074
OOC NOTE: The group starts on Central Lowery in the CAS Sector.
There isn't a lot of good, genuine Chinese food in Denver. Not a lot of immigrants with firsthand experience cooking it make it this far into the interior of North America. So the vast majority of what's available in the city is the usual Anglicized soy-based fare: not bad but not great, especially for an enthusiast. And if you want something a step up from that, well … you have to make compromises. Because most of the actual Chinese transplants in Denver? They're either Triad members themselves or under the thumb of said groups.
Which brings you to Three Happiness. The word is that you can get potentially great Chinese food here, though for those not familiar with this place, there might be … complications. But if you're the enterprising sort, maybe you'd try your luck anyway.
Sometimes there is no greater quest one can undertake in life than finding the best places to eat in whatever town one happens to call home. In this case, Lost likely wouldn't know the difference between good, authentic Chinese and the stuff you normally get. But anyone would prefer to at least be served /real/ food rather than a load of processed soy-drek. So, following the rumors, the dark-haired elf takes a cab out to the restaurant, bundled up a little extra for Denver winter conditions.
Posh had heard about Three Happiness, and had been hoping for a place to find Asian carp cooked with chili oil and Sichuan pepper, holding hope against hope that it won't just be another boneless ribs and chicken fingers joint. "I'll admit, I love going to a place like this," says Posh to Lost. "One rule I learned while traveling: always go to the places workers eat. Workers are unlikely to want to be ripped off, and they like good comfort food," she says.
And sure enough, the Three Happiness has an inviting exterior. Though in this case, inviting almost means the opposite of what it usually does. It looks genuine-ly less than impressive. It's tucked into a quiet corner of a AA tech area, so it certainly doesn't look bad, but by the same token, it's thoroughly absent of flair. Whoever runs this place seems content to rely solely on word of mouth to generate foot traffic, or so it seems, and that's probably a good sign if you're looking for good non-franchisey food.
Milling about the front are a handful of people, though, who look less than friendly, their clothing tending to fall somewhere between traditional Chinese and snappy Western business attire. Maybe it's just you; they could just have their biases against non-Chinese. Or maybe it's them; some of these guys don't look like they'd be friendly on the best day.
And one girl. Leaning against a sleek-looking crotch rocket of a Suzuki Motorcycle is a girl. Beyond that, not much is obvious about her, as she's still wearing a full body riding suit and her helmet, and she doesn't seem to have any time to talk to you. Though she does look up, give the two of you a long stare, and then look back down at her wrist computer.
"Yeah, a couple of, uh…" She snaps her fingers a few times, "I can't remember, what's the common Chinese slur for whitey?" Lost laughs, "Anyway, I know what you mean. It can be a gamble, sure, but the worst thing that happens is you have a bad meal, right?" Considering what the other elf says about eating while travelling, she nods, "That makes sense. Figure some wageslave has got a half hour for lunch on average, too… so they'd know where to go to get served quickly." She glances at the group of people loitering near the front of the building, then toward the girl and the bike. With a slight shrug, she just keeps walking toward the restaurant, a smile ready for any of the people in the group should they happen to make eye contact.
Posh gives a little chuckle, and then nods. "That's right," she says. "Most working folk know how to get a good deal. It's wise to trust their judgement," she says, nodding to Lost, then a glance over to the girl in the crotch rocket, returning her stare, or at least what she assumes is, through her helmet. So she moves to sidle on up to any sort of queue she sees forming; failing that, she's apparently traveled enough worldwide to know that you've got to push if there's not a queue, and with her heft, she's not the worst at pushing.
OOC Note: I confirm that both Lost and Posh are of European appearance and speak neither Mandarin or Cantonese. I confirm that Lost has no knowskills which would give her knowledge of the Triads or Chinese culture. Posh offers the following two knowskills:
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls History (Imperial):
1 3 4 7 11
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Gang Identification:
2 4 10 11
«Plot» Posh says, "Posh would have knowledge of the Triads, both from the street knowledge side via Gang Identification, and through the knowledge of them as formed, like many organized crime syndicates, as a resistance movement against an empire (in this case, the Qing)."
«OOC» Feather says, "Lets assume you both go inside, then."
OOC NOTE: The group enters Three Happiness.
Posh looks around, taking the decor in, seeing if she recognizes any iconography she saw in 'Symbols of Resistance: Counter-Iconography and Anti-Qing 'Brotherhoods.' such as the Paoge or the Green Gang. Her 'street' knowledge of the Triads would be reasonably current, while of course her historical knowledge would be about events from the 1920s in Guangdong Province and Hong Kong.
Posh gets her head out of the clouds and takes a deep breath. "Mmm. Smells delicious." She grins at Lost. "I'm going all out. I just got my dietware installed. It's time to make a waiter look at me funny," she brags, utterly delighted.
Lost, on the other hand, has no knowledge of such things. The only thing she knows is that she's hungry. Turning to Posh after making her way inside, she grins, nodding in agreement, "Well… I'm jealous. I guess I'll just help eat whatever you don't, if you don't mind sharing." Chuckling, she continues, "I know how a lot of people can be when it comes to sharing meals. So. Table or booth? Booth, right?" The way she asks, it's almost as if she assumes no one would prefer to sit at a table. Ever.
Posh pies a small private booth suitable for no more than four and grins, guiding Lost over to it. She knows enough, it seems, to just go and sit down - there's no being shown to a table in a proper Chinese restaurant - just go find one, clean or not, and the waiter will come by, give it a whisk with a damp cloth. "Blue Girl," she asks for, but she'll take Carlsberg or San Miguel if they have it.
OOC Note: Minor continuity error here. They posed without letting me set. Pose order was mostly followed after this.
Once you're inside, though, the place looks almost disappointing. There's really nothing out of the ordinary here. The wait stuff, bored and disinterested, looks like they don't much care if they get awful marks for hospitality. And something is a bit off about the cooking too.
You can smell real Chinese cooking, but what's being dished out to the people on this floor seems anything but, looking rather pedestrian and smelling … well, not at all. And while the crowd outside was mostly Chinese, this crowd looks to be a mix of white tech workers from the nearby corp campuses, along with Filipino and Korean workers. But you do see a pair of snappily-dressed Chinese men, like the ones outside, temporarily lifting the red velet cordon and heading up the stairs, before closing it behind them.
And then the door opens behind you. Miss Motorcycle seems to have followed you in, and you know it's you when she addresses you, her words clipped and heavy with a Chinese accent. "Hey. Gwailos." Gwailo, roughly translating to "ghost face." That's a step above pinkskin, at least, so far as racial slurs go. Or maybe not.
Posh turns around, looking as Miss Motorcycle follows her in, apparently still wearing the helmet, and she glances to Lost with a look of surprise. "I'm going to -assume- you're addressing us, and have a desire to be rude," she says. "We just heard that this was a good place plug this hole I have in me."
Lost certainly notices that the crowd inside seems considerably whiter than she expected, and the two men heading up the stairs also catch her attention. Turning toward Posh, she tilts her head to the side, arching an eyebrow "Does anything seem off with this picture to you?" When Motorcycle girl speaks up from behind the pair, she whirls around and points, grinning brightly, "That's what it was! Gwailo." Laughing softly, she hardly seems at all insulted. Maybe having her memory jogged was enough to offset any offense she might have taken.
«Plot» Feather says, "There's nothing here which seems to fit into any particular historical context. Nor do you spot people bearing any particular gang colors or outfits in enough numbers to catch your eye. This floor, at least, just seems like an underwhelming Chinese restaurant: above average decor, below average food."
OOC Note: These were the results of her above rolls of Imperial History and Gang Identification. However, I held onto the above rolls to determine her approximate knowledge level.
Posh looks around a little bit disappointed, if anything, seeing all her fellow gwailo, and then back at the now helmetless figure that's entered to challenge her and her lunch companion.
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) spends 100 nuyen.
OOC NOTE: This expenditure is for a single-meal pass to gain entry to the upstairs dining room.
The girl slides her helmet off, revealing a rather ordinary-looking Chinese girl, quite a bit of black hair rolled into a compatc bun. Her lips spread in a forced smile that only serves, in fact, to make her look more unfriendly. "Perhaps you would like to go upstairs?" Her attention turns toward the young woman manning the front desk. A rather frenzied conversation erupts between the two of them in Chinese. It's Cantonese, to be specific, though you probably can't tell the difference. They seem to be arguing about you two. And then, about ten seconds later, it's done, and Miss Motorcycle turns back toward the two of you. "The upstairs dining room serves food with a wider range of spices. You might find it more to your liking. I could take you." Another forced smile. Her words, this time, are polite, though the tone behind them is not.
She doesn't like you, and she's not afraid to show it, and so the only reason she'd offer you something is if she wants something from you. But of the people coming and going down that staircase, almost all are Chinese. A few look like other Asian ethnicities, but there are certainly no "gwailos." Miss Motorcycle might be your only ticket up there.
Posh glances over at the woman, and then at the woman addressing her, and then she rests a hand on her hip. "Well, all right then," she says. "That sounds good. We're more 'secret menu' type folks anyway," she replies quite happily, doing her best to try to break the hostile exterior with silly gwailo affability.
Lost's own smile fades a bit, particularly as Motorcycle Girl and the hostess seem to break out in a bit of an argument. Still, she's not likely to turn down what is likely to be the superior culinary experience. Nodding to Posh, she too seems to be opting to overwhelm the girl's icy exterior by cranking up on the friendliness, leveling a bright smile on the girl. "Yeah, we might as well, I mean, we came out for the real deal anyway, right? Thanks for offering to escort us!"
"You are most welcome," the girl responds, inclining her head slightly. She turns about and makes her way to the stairway leading up, next to which is standing one of the two security guards manning the first floor. They look pretty fit, like they know what they're doing, though it's not clear why this Chinese restaurant needs security. Miss Motorcycle gestures briefly toward the two of you before heading up the stairs herself, letting the two of you follow her at your own pace.
«Plot» Feather says, "Let me know whenever you want to go up. Free pose between each other if you want until then."
Posh glances over at the two security guards, and then nods to Miss Motorcycle. "All right," she says, accepting the invitation, and moving to follow MM's lead.
Lost also eyes the guards briefly before falling in step behind Motorcycle Girl and Posh, heading up the stairs slowly. With a smile to MM, she motions toward herself, "I'm Morgan, it's very nice to meet you. And thanks again for giving us an in here."
OOC NOTE: Posh and Lost enter the upstairs dining room.
«OOC» Feather says, "Everyone want to roll perception?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Intelligence:
2 3 3 4 4 11
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence:
2 2 2 3 4 8
OOC NOTE: This roll is to determine how well Posh and Lost notice the social reactions of the other patrons.
The three of you head up the stairs, Miss Motorcycle leading you into what immediately strikes you as a much nicer dining area. Miss Motorcycle has a brief exchange with another, more serious man at the top of the stairs as you look around. The smells too, are much stronger here, the aroma of fresh and authentic Guangdong cuisine wafting toward you. That's presumably what most of the people up here are ordering. Here, finally, you may have struck your goal, though you immediately begin to wonder if the price might be a little too high.
You start to notice it quickly. For a few brief moments, not long enough to be considered impolite, everybody here is staring at you. You're not only the only "gwailos" here, but you're also one of very few people who don't seem to be matching a pretty specific dress code. It's not quite as cut-and-dried as typical gang insignia, but a lot of the people here are wearing some variation of black clothing with very specific red-stitched patterns. And then a server approaches to seat you.
Miss Motorcycle, meanwhile, is … somewhere. It's not quite clear where she went, but she's gone.
«Plot» Feather says, "Posh recognizes that these man are likely members of the Black Dragon triad, one of the organized crime players in Denver, though not the most powerful Triad in the city. This place is likely one of their bases and front operations. Given all the attention you're getting, both of you may or may not consider that the whole reason you were invited up here was to be a bit of a distraction."
OOC Note: The insight re: Feather's motivation was given for high perception rolls.
OOC NOTE: Nine arrives from Central Lowery.
Lost takes a moment to breathe in the smells of the authentic cooking deeply, hardly noticing that the rest of the restaurant is staring at them… for the first few moments, at least. Once she breaks the spell the smell of food has on her, she looks around, smiles as warmly as she can manage, and glances briefly toward Posh, "Something seems a bit off up here, too…" She mentions quietly, before turning toward Miss Motorcycle, "So, what's your…" She starts to trail off when she notices the girl is no longer there, "Huh." Looking back to Posh, she snickers, "Well, that was rude…"
Posh looks around, realizing that she's been invited up here on a rather false pretenses, and looking around. "There's something fishy here," she says, to Lost. "Let's see how this one plays out," she says, glancing around, and then smiling as she sees the server approaching. "Thank you, we'd love a table. We heard you've got a better range of spices up here," she says to the server in her high tea accent.
For the moment, though, nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary, aside from Miss Motorcycle's odd behavior. The waitstaff guides you to a table, at which are waiting menus and the usual place settings. A bottle of premium bottled water arrives soon after, along with some glasses. Yes, this floor seems to cater to an "exclusive" clientele, but you're not the only ones here who don't visibly belong to their number. A handful of other, more normal-looking patrons are scattered about this floor. Some people certainly do come up here for the food, it seems, and if the menu is any indication, you've got some pretty nice choices, not only of Chinese, but of other Asian cuisine as well. Well, not Japanese-food. "Who would want that garbage" is likely the prevailing opinion here.
«OOC» Feather says, "Please roll perception again."
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence:
1 1 2 5 5 14
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Intelligence:
1 1 2 2 3 10
OOC Note: This roll is to determine if anyone spots Feather sneaking off. She has Traceless Walk and a R6 Ruthenium Coating on her helmet and jumpsuit.
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) rolls Stealth:
1 1 2 4 4 5
OOC NOTE: 5 (stealth) + 6 (ruth) = TN 11. Lost succeeds. Posh fails.
Posh certainly doesn't seem to be interested in Japanese food - instead, she's greedy. And she orders everything she can - char siu pork, carp with sichuan pepper and chili oil, noodles, steamed veggies, ma fa dofu, chicken feet, everything under the sun. She does seem to favor pork and noodles, a typical Anglo palate, but she has the saving grace of also liking spice and veggies. Good for her!
«Plot» Feather says, "There's a pretty standard set of swinging half-doors leading into what is likely a service stairwell; the staff don't bring food up here the same way you got up here, obviously. There are probably back rooms, too. Posh doesn't notice it, but out of the corner of Lost's eye, she catches something. One of the doors opens ever-so-slightly, seemingly by itself, though you could swear you caught the online of a person going through it."
Nine steps inside the door of the chinese food place, which called her name to get her to come here. She tummy rumbles quietly as the anticipation of food to soon fill that space in her belly that aches for noodle yummies.
Posh's giant order saves Lost from the trouble of having to make sure she orders something appropriately authentic. It simply wouldn't do to have her order sneered at after all the attention the pair has been giving just coming up the stairs. Her lack of knowledge of Chinese cuisine is made up for at least in part by a spirit of culinary adventurousness. Grinning as Posh puts in her order, she tilts her head to the side,
"You're not going to eat /all/ of that, are you?" Leaning back in her seat, she chuckles softly, but suddenly arches a brow when she notices something potentially out of the ordinary. "I think I just saw someone sneak through one of the doors…" She whispers conspiratorially to Posh, leaning in to open the bottle of water and pour herself a glass.
Posh gives a grin and is most happy to share, beginning to dig in on that fish first, which is what had her really excited. She's of course eager to go for the char siu as well - delish - the red sweet savory pork one a sort of wicked comfort food, and she grins. Posh clearly doesn't keep herself away from the meat, it seems, though she's just as brutal to the steamed veggies. She's happily oblivious to anyone sneaking in the back, just intent on having an utter feast. The display she makes is almost obscene, though her manners are good - she's triggered on her wired reflexes, and so it looks like she's politely eating in bullet time!
Remember that guy? His name is Cheung Jia, a 23 year-old transplant from Hong Kong. You probably remember him as security guard #1 from the first floor. Nine sees him right now, in fact, a hand reaching up to his ear to tap his an earpiece. He utters a few clipped words in Chinese before heading up the stairs. And then Posh and Lost see him, this time as he blocks the stairwell, doing his best to look like an even more of an implacable jerk than before.
And suddenly, all of the _other_ non-triad diners on the second floor? Well, they look very nervous. And then they look at you with suspicious eyes. Surely it's the filthy gwailos' fault.
Nine gets seated in a booth somewhere out of the way where she can order up a few rounds of moo shu gai pan (one to go but one for here) and being all like, "What is that one with udon noodles and beef with veggies? That one, yeah… two of those and one boxed up to go!" she tells the server, "Gonna also need a big order of fried cheese wantons."
OOC Note: I confirm that Nine speaks Cantone but not Mandarin, and she offers the following underworld knowskills.
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Shadowrunner Haunts (to Feather):
2 3 4 7
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Shadowscene Players (to Feather):
1 2 3
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Urban Survival (to Feather):
1 2 2 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Street Rumors (to Feather):
1 5
Lost does her best to take some initiative and take some food before Posh stows it all away in her hollow leg. Pork and steamed veggies sing a siren song she can't resist, and the carp is delicious as well. She's helped herself to a solid portion, but she can't hope to match Posh's pace. In fact, every so often, she just has to sit in awe of the other elf. In fact, she's almost too distracted to notice Cheung Jia make his way to block the stairwell, but she definitely notices as the rest of the patrons start to look a bit jumpy. To Posh, "I think something's about to happen…" She muses softly, before grinning at the meal before them, "Doesn't matter, totally worth it!" That said, she turns her focus back to the meal.
«Plot» Feather says, "If Nine _were_ to try to go upstairs, now that the guard is out of the way, she'd probably be stopped by him at the top of the stairs, but since Posh and Lost are, purely by coincidence, in the same restaurant and close enough to see her and claim she's part of their party, it might not be an issue. If we're interested in making this one big happy family."
«Plot» Nine says, "Nine will probably not risk it and stay sitting on the first floor for the time being because it is an AA sector and if anything goes wrong, the fight to run is going to be a hard one."
«Plot» Feather says, "I understand. Since you've been a champ posing away alone, I just wanted to give you a chance to join in."
«Plot» Feather says, "You're also the only person here who could translate."
«Plot» Feather says, "So it's partially selfish, as you'd serve an important purpose."
«Plot» Feather says, "Got any audio ware, Nine?"
Nine pages: Nine has no cyber. She is very smart tho. On a normal perception, she might be lucky to notice/hear from position.
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Intelligence + 1 (KP) (to Feather):
1 1 1 1 2 3 4 4 5 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Intelligence + 1 (KP) (to Feather) for "KP2":
2 2 3 3 4 4 4 5 5 13
Something _is_ going down, it seems. Angry, raised voices can be heard from the double doors leading into the back area on the second floor, though it's not quite audible on the first floor, due to the distance and larger traffic volume there. It's odd. Posh knows of this culture, specifically how the British turned it against its people during the turn of the 20th century.
She knows that etiquette is everything in China, as is saving face. Outspoken confrontation is certainly not the norm, even to one's enemies. This applies even to the Triads. Unlike the Yakuza or Mafia, the Triads may hold a grudge, but they don't act rashly, and they will at least be courteous as they kill you. So for raised voices to be heard, it must be something important. Or bad.
It gets worse, of course. Doesn't it always? A few men enter from the door to the second floor's back area, and they begin to clear the floor of everyone who doesn't look like a Triad member. Poor Posh. All that wasted food. After everyone else leaves with no fuss, they arrive at your table.
Posh is interrupted with a mouthful of carp, which she heroically slams down her throat and swallows half-chewed. It sticks there for a second, the pain swelling through her throat for a moment, and her eyes water, but then it's passed, and down into her tummy, already a little stretched. Posh looks up expectantly to those who arrive. "Is there something I can do to help you two gentlemen?" she asks, dipping her head in a vaguely polite gesture.
There's a moment of concern for Posh as Lost watches the other elf nearly choke. But once the danger seems to pass, she stops eating and turns toward the security types as well, fixing a smile on the two of them after noticing how empty the rest of the room has become, waiting for them to respond to the British elf's polite query.
On the first floor, Nine senses something stirring in this place (besides the various woks and other noodle pans in the kitchen). She does indeed glance to the where the security guard normally stands, and then up toward the doors as the mass exodus of non gooks happens, and she watches (like probably everyone else does) as various folks exit to leave the good food space. Nine whispers a tiny prayer for all those who are leaving, since many could not finish eating all the fine upstairs foods. Her sorrow for them is most evident!
On the ground floor, Nine notices a large group of patrons who don't seem to be part of the same party leaving at once. She's not the only one who notices. A number of patrons on the bottom floor seem to have some understanding or suspicion of what's going on, as the ambient noise instantly drops a few decibles and a few hands go up to ask for checks. If the odd occurrence piques her interest enough to pay closer attention, she might recognize Posh's voice from the direction of the stairwell. And then, much louder, a back-and-forth between two men in distinctly Hong Kong-flavored Cantonese.
Back on the second floor, the two Triad soldiers who had approached Posh and Lost speak first in polite, restrained tones, in fluent but heavily accented English. "I'm sorry. You're going to have to leave immediately. Do not mind the cheque." Free food? Wow. Score.
Or not. Remember Cheung Jia? Cheung Jia was always a god damned narc, even in high school. Fucking Cheung Jia, man, they would say. In Cantonese, though. As the two soldiers seem about to let you go, he stands, saying something loudly in Cantonese. And so starts the exchange that Lost hears. They seem to be talking about you. Cheung Jia isn't actually a narc, but it's always the little things that get you, like the fact that he was the same security guard Miss Motorcycle talked to, to clear your path up here. The same party, it would seem. Whatever hornet's nest she kicked, you're now attached to the mess.
The older-looking of the two soldiers says to Posh matter-of-factly, "Please come with us." A few others soldiers near you cease their meals and stand, an extra show of force behind that command. This is turning out wonderfully.
«Plot» Feather says, "Knowing what you know about Chinese culture and history, whatever you decide to say, you think respect and etiquette are probably paramount, and verbal confrontation is probably not the best option. You also know that, if these men are from Hong Kong, the center for many of the Triads, their view of you is more treacherous Imperial betrayer (Britain) than hapless bumbler (American)."
Nine notices the wisened folks asking for checks and her whole demeanor droops, but she decides to follow suite because they are. If she can possibly get the attention of the server long enough, Nine asks softly, "What is happening, and why does everyone flee?"
"Leave?" Lost replies, blinking at the two gentlemen, looking as utterly harmless as she possibly can. She glances toward Posh, but doesn't seem likely to cause any trouble. With a bit of a sigh, she dips her head to both men before slowly moving to stand, keeping her palms flat on the table as she rises from her seat. "Alright then. I'm not sure what this is all about, but I'm sure we can clear up whatever sort of misunderstanding we've got on our hands here…" The dark-haired elf says, smiling politely at the soldiers.
Posh nods to the older looking of the two soldiers, and then turns back to Lost. "I think the gentleman would like to have a word with us," she says, turning back to the man with a smile. "Thank you for the invitation. It appears that we have no choice but to accept, but it is much appreciated, all the same," she says to the man, as she places her chopsticks down - she at least has the dexterity to make a reasonable show with them. The rather…hefty…gwailo woman, at eighty kilos probably one of the weightier people in the room, male or female, rises to her full six-one in boots as she stands up. "Shall we, sir,?" she asks, with a smile, making sure to keep her hands in view, but not obtrusively so.
«Plot» Feather says, "Roll etiquette Miss Posh, please."
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Etiquette + 2 for "Pheremones!":
1 1 2 3 4 5 5 16
OOC Note: This was to determine how suspicious the two Triad soldiers think she is. Charisma 3, sees Posh as suspicious, result neutral, so TN 5. A failure would have resulted in them being detained separately and questioned further. Since they got 3 successes, I decided they figured she was harmless enough to take her straight to the boss.
The response to Nine is pretty blase, coming with an obviously false smile. "Nothing is the matter, ma'am. We've just closed for lunch on the top floor." It's barely past noon, though. The server's demeanor is telling. She has been down this road before, and whatever's happening, she has either numbed herself to it, or she genuinely doesn't care. A few feet away, though, the remaining guard on the first floor talks into his comm, quietly but loud enough for Nine to pick up, likely assuming the nearby European-looking woman doesn't speak his language. She only catches half of the conversation, but it's something about a "Phoenix Lodge" and two gwailos.
Meanwhile, the soldiers dealing with Lost and Posh look at each other briefly. For whatever it's worth, their expressions soften slightly, and they lead the two ladies past the same doors the invisible woman had breached earlier and down a long hallway. Eventually, they're escorted into a large rectangular room. There, they're finally reunited with Miss Motorcycle. She's sitting in a chair across from a desk, behind which is a rather important-looking elderly man in a way-too-expensive suit. His office has a really nice view, if that's any consolation. Miss Motorcycle doesn't look like she's having fun, considering the five men standing behind her don't have friendly looks on their faces.
"These two are with her," your escorts say.
Posh smiles elegantly, waiting to be shown in. Instead of obection verbally to what the man says, she briefly allows her disagreement to show on her face, but she doesn't -say- anything. If the man is at all willing to enquire as to the nature of this disagreement, he will, but if he is going to trust his man's word implicitly, Posh is not going to embarrass everyone by protesting aloud. She's been in enough ganglord, or even corporate, settings to understand this rule.
Lost looks around the room briefly as she's led in, keeping her expression as polite and neutral as is possible given the circumstances. When she notices that Miss Motorcycle in the room, she glances at the girl briefly, but then focuses her attention on the man in the expensive suit, as clearly he's the one who will be doing the talking. She too decides to keep quiet for now, opting to follow Posh's lead instead of protesting any sort of nefarious association between herself, Posh, and the mysterious girl with the motorcycle.
Nine nods to the server person before handing over a certified credstick to pay while mourning silently inside and hoping at least one of the dishes is done and that she might acquire it before anything goes south. Using Masking, the young-looking woman quietly views the astral realm and checks for those who may be awakened in this place, as far as she can might be able to notice.
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Intelligence (to Feather) for "Astral Perception from First Floor to notice awakened type folks.":
1 2 2 4 4 4 4 5 17
«OOC» Feather says, "Is Lost Awakened?"
«OOC» Lost is, yes.
The Triads tend to be even more cloaked in mysticism than the Yakuza, but even they are held back by the sheer rarity of the Awakened. In the Astral, Nine spots a few Awakened people, more than she'd normally expect in a single building but still not a large number. Most of the action right now seems to be centered in a single room above her, with five noteworthy auras and four normal mundanes. One is noteworthy for its dim, heavily-cybered aspect, and the other four have the bright glow of an Awakened individuals. Two of them are colored a serene, calm blue, the other glowing an angry red, one of the blue ones much brighter than the rest. Given how wide her view is, she can't make out much more than that without looking for specific detail.
Above her, the older man speaks. "I didn't think the Phoenix Lodge had stooped to playing with the old boys clubs." The voice you hear is old and raspy, almost vulnerable in its frailty. But its clear nonetheless that this man is some kind of boss. His voice is sure and certain, used to authority, used to being seen as a source of wisdom, and the aura of deference toward him from the soldiers here is immediately obvious. When he speaks, it's not vicious or unfriendly, nor is it laden with any hint of menace or threat. But to know the triads is to know that such a thing don't mean you're in the clear. He holds a hand up to Miss Motorcycle, as if to silence whatever she was about to say in response, then looks toward Posh and Lost, staring at them long and hard.
"Is that true?" he asks them.
«Plot» Feather says, "Given Posh's personal history and knowledge of British history, she can probably figure out that, by "old boys clubs," he's probably generally referring to some of the residual British crime groups operating in Hong Kong post-reunification. She doesn't know much more about them specifically."
It is quite clear that Lost doesn't have any idea what the revered man is talking about. And she seems to have no qualms in saying so, "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Any affiliation with British crime groups on her part is unlikely, the dark-haired elf possessing a pretty typical UCAS accent. She glances toward Miss Motorcycle looking as if she's about to elaborate, but thinks better of it. She answered the question that was directly asked, and that seems to be enough. The man seems the sort who will prompt them when he wants a specific answer.
Posh shakes her head. "I can assure you of nothing except my ignorance, sir," she replies. "We had heard that the food was good here, and my palate was trained on vindaloo and tikka korma," she explains. "We were a little disappointed to see so many other Anglos," she explains, "and I think that our friend here saw an opportunity to work us for patsies," she says, looking a little disapprovingly at Miss Motorcycle. "I do thank you for the opportunity to speak, sir, and to let you know how surprised I am that anything of this sort has happened."
«Plot» Feather says, "Perception from Posh and Lost?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Intelligence:
1 3 4 5 8 10
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence:
1 2 3 4 4 7
OOC Note: This is to determine if Posh and Lost spot the color difference in Feather's outfit. TN 6.
«Plot» Feather says, "Can you roll Gang Identification, Posh?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Gang Identification:
2 3 4 10
OOC Note: TN 10 to identify the colors of a small Triad without a significant Denver presence.
Nine pushes her cat-eye sunglasses up closer to her eye balls then stands up, letting the astral vision run while under guise of the masking metamagic, the extended variety. Thankfully, she is given back her certified credstick, but the sad news is that the order will not be ready for some time, "Give it to a homeless person, please." She tells her waitress before she starts to go with the other patrons toward the exit door, getting further angles of vision.
«Plot» Feather says, "So you're staying astrally perceiving as you approach the exit?"
«Plot» Nine says, "Yes."
«Plot» Feather says, "Do you have masking?"
«Plot» Nine says, "Yes, I do. The extended version."
«Plot» Feather says, "What's your init grade?"
Nine pages: 7.
«Plot» Feather says, "lol. I'll not bother rolling, then. :P"
OOC Note: The boss is a grade 5 initiate. I didn't feel it appropriate to roll.
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) rolls 5:
2 4 5 5 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) rolls 7:
2 2 4 5 5 8 11
OOC Note: 5 int, 7 Aura Reading comp dice for assensing Lost, 6 successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) rolls 5:
1 1 2 2 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Feather (#12973) rolls 7:
2 2 4 4 5 7 7
OOC Note: 5 int, 7 Aura Reading comp dice for assensing Posh, 3 successes
Lost and Posh notice that the girl in the chair is wearing the same motorcycle outfit as before, but the colors have changed. It's primarily white, with red, blue, yellow, and black elements. Posh vaguely remembers a small triad, mostly operating out of China, which uses all of those colors, the Phoenix Lodge. It's not clear why this girl would wear those colors here. In fact, why is she here at all?
The old man narrows his eyes slightly. Nine notices him astrally perceiving, though he doesn't seem to notice her just yet. But with how strong his aura is, he does seem to be a heavily-initiated mage, so she may or may not think twice about staying dual-natured.
"So you say. You are the random patsies, then." He looks at Lost skeptically. "You, with your magic." And then at Posh. "And you, with your extensive augmentation." He frowns slightly. "Were you just unlucky, then?"
"You have the right of it," says Posh. "But I'll admit that we are the…sorts of people who seem to have a knack for getting ourselves into trouble," she says. "After all, as I'm sure you have gathered, sir, we stand out in your restaurant. So it's not so unlikely that we would be chosen for such a scam - we were the most obvious stupid outsiders who happened to be in the vicinity," she says, with a little smile.
Nine tries to blend with the crowd and will turn off her astral vision to exit with the other escaping people, not wanting to hit up any masked wards there, which she might not have noticed. Stepping outside with the other people who are also leaving, Nine bothers no one here, but when outside she does put her right hand in her coat to swap some tech cables around inside the covering.
«Plot» Feather says, "Roll etiquette and negotiation."
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Etiquette + 2 for "pheremones":
1 3 4 4 5 7 9 11
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 2 for "pheremones":
1 3 3 3 4 5 9 10
OOC Note: The old man's int was 6 and cha 5, with +2 modifier for being suspicious of the two and +2 for the result being annoying. So TN of 9 for Etiquette and TN of 10 for Negotiation.
Lost nods in agreement with Posh, "In any case, I cannot help being Awakened, sir." The dark-haired elf says with a smile, "But yes, though I wouldn't say either of us are strangers to this sort of trouble, we're both unwitting marks in this instance." Fearing she may be running her mouth a bit too much, she goes quiet again, focusing mainly on seeming as cooperative as possible, apparently willing to put her faith in Posh's ability to talk the pair of them out of trouble.
«Plot-Page» (To: Feather and Posh) When Nine is outside, she switches those cables so she can dial from a burner phone with an anon number. Nine never forgets anything, so she knows Posh's number off the top of her head, which goes to the external transducer under her coat and into the telecommunications device. From this number, Nine sends text, » "Anon tip from a secret admirer. Overheard something about 'Phoenix Lodge' in gook speak, as well believe there to be a few awakened people in your general vicinity. Please, text back to this number, which will now go to pager from here on out, if you are in any danger. Otherwise, I want non of whatever the Triad is doing." « Nine sets up the pager to accept the incoming texts, and the phone gets turned off with batteries taken out of it, too, as soon as she has made it into a back alley.
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) uses 1 of item 1: WristModel CellPhone from Burner Phones (#8147).
This restaurant isn't warded, at least not the public areas. It is a restaurant, after all, and even if it is an organized crime front with terrible service to non-Chinese customers, it sees quite a bit of traffic, as well as semicorrupt city inspectors who may or may not be Awakened, so Nine might guess that astral security will be light, if it's there at all.
The old man opens his eyes wider as he smirks, a smug look on his face. "I can see why the sisters discarded you, little one," he says, seemingly to Miss Motorcycle. "You bring ill fortune to all whose paths you cross."
She only bows her head in response. "Yes," she says quietly. Her entire demeanor has changed compared to before. Her default seems, at best, passive aggressive, if not hostile, but right now, she's defering to a man who is likely her enemy. There's some dynamic at work here that isn't entirely obvious to those not acquainted with the culture.
"You and your cursed feather," the old man adds. The girl sits up straight for a moment, eyes wide, her surprise obvious, but then she bows her head again and closes her eyes. Her response is the same again.
"Yes."
"Yes, I know about it. I grew up in Dongbei too." His smirk stretches wider. "I could kill you here, or at any time."
"Yes," she says.
"Good." He nods to himself. "Good." He pauses and lets out a slow breath. "Did you try my food? It's not only from Guangdong. I have some recipes from home." That's a really weird shift, considering he's still talking to Miss Motorcycle. And then he looks up at Posh and Lost. "It was good, wasn't it? Maybe you all should eat." What?
«Plot» Feather says, "Weird roll for Posh."
«Plot» Feather says, "Roll half (round down) of your base etiquette skill, without pheromones."
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) has the Active Skill Etiquette with the value '6'.
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Etiquette - 3 for "testin' it out!":
1 2 2
«Plot» Feather says, "Same for Lost, if she has Etiquette. Or you can roll psychology or sociology or something, if you have them."
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) has the Active Skill Etiquette with the value '4'.
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Etiquette - 2:
4 4
«Plot» Feather says, "Both of those rolls don't make it, unless you feel like KP'ing. It's fine letting them stand. I've never done it before, but absent a cultural knowskill, I'm letting you roll etiquette background for situational understanding."
«Plot» Posh says, "Ah, okay. It's totally IC actually for Posh to not understand the sitaution, but still not bof it."
Lost listens to the exchange between the distinguished gentleman and Miss Motorcycle, but very clearly avoids looking at either of them directly. It's not a conversation she has any place in. As the man turns back to the two elves however, she smiles, nodding sincerely, "Quite delicious, actually. We would certainly appreciate the opportunity to finish our meal…" Pausing briefly, she considers something for a moment before adding, "Though you've already shown us great clemency as is."
Posh keeps herself quite silent, except for the opportunity to discuss the food. "Mmm," she says. "The fish especially, was delicious." Here she figures she's on safer ground. Also, since foreigners are less likely to enjoy fish, she figures that that is a particular opportunity. The oddly polite interaction seems to confuse her a little, but she sticks with her strengths.
The man behind the desk finally stands. He's old, and compared to the Elven women here, a little short, standing at 5'5". But his posture is better than most, hinting at physical potency that belies his years, and the the soldiers behind Miss Motorcycle make a hole for him the moment he even begins to walk in their direction. He heads for the door with a patient but deliberate gait, saying only, "Come," to those gathered behind him. And they do, Miss Motorcycle included, her five soldiers still following behind her. Even if things have verbally softened, it seems, there's still not a lot of trust going around. Likewise, your two escorts wait for you before following behind the two of you.
As Miss Motorcycle stands and turns around, she doesn't so much as look at Posh or Lost, though, her usual standoffish demeanor returning. If she regrets anything she did, she doesn't show it. She just walks, through the long hallway, back into the upstairs dining room. Several soldiers are still eating there, seemingly unconcerned by what has happened here.
And by the time you enter the upstairs dining room again, the older gentlemen is sitting at a table, Miss Motorcycle next to him. They're intently discussing something in Cantonese, though it's mostly the older man speaking. He pauses for a moment to gesture for the two of you to join him.
Posh doesn't object to being followed behind, and moves to follow Miss Motorcycle. There's no reason or cause for objection quite yet. She's impressed by the demeanor of the old man, but she does not compliment him on it; it's not the place of a Big Bird of a foreign lass to give this man advice, at least not in front of his men.
Nine does not look back and continues calmly walking down the semi-dim alleyway. The cable plug gets summarily unjacked from the burner phone and put inside a silent pager, so she can receive notification via mental impulses, rather than from anything noisy. She takes the phone out of her pocket and turns it off, as well as taking the battery out (which cannot be wasted and gets pocketted for future use in another device — but only after cleaning). Nine relids the battery compartment with her gloved fingers. At a dumpster blocks away, the strange woman takes out a tiny bottle with a spray top and which claims to be a massage oil as per its multi-language label, but really contains what is a simple mixture of chemical bleach and other things to ruin DNA. Some cover can hopefully be had when in the shadows by the chosen dumpster and its building, where Nine sprays the phone down before tossing it into the trash recepticle.
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Chemistry for "Bleach and other things. Xd":
1 1 2 4 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Nine (#10584) rolls Chemistry for "Bleach and other things. Xd~KP!":
2 2 4 4 5
Lost can at least recognize an effective leader when she sees one, and by the way his men defer to him, the aged gentleman is certainly that. As he gestures for the pair to join him at the table, Lost does so, moving toward the indicated seats slowly before taking a seat. She glances at the young woman, though without malice, for just a moment, her attention politely focused upon the man in charge, waiting to be spoken to rather than risk saying anything uncouth.
«Plot» Feather says, "Anybody want to ask any specific questions of the boss before I wrap it?"
OOC Note: No response was given to that prompt.
The same menus are waiting in front of the group at the intimate circular table they find themselves seated at. A few moments later, a large, unopened bottle of premium bottled water is placed at the center of the table, along with some sparklingly clean glasses. The best for the boss, it seems. And then the server waits. If either Lost or Posh are still hungry after all of this, the option to order more food seems available to them. The older man seems to have a special order he likes, one that isn't on the menu, and Miss Motorcycle politely orders nearly the same thing, with just enough difference for it to not seem like groveling. And then he looks at Posh and Lost, this time with bright, almost grandfatherly eyes. It's almost disturbing when one considers just how much death those eyes have seen.
"You know, good fortune often comes in equal proportion with ill," he begins. There's an almost an invisible gesture toward Miss Motorcycle as "ill" is spoken. "You two both kept your composure remarkably well." He focuses on Posh. "Between that and the type of implants you have." And then on Lost. "As well as what I'm guessing your magic is tailored toward." A smile. "You two strike me as well-composed professionals. And I don't believe in coincidence, that it was chance which you brought you to me. You are here for a reason, so perhaps I can give you a second gift, aside from a good meal. Honest work." A smirk again as he looks at Miss Motorcycle. "I'm sure you're willing to help."
"Yes," she replies in quiet monotone, the same word she will repeat for most of the night.
The conversation winds back and forth for sometime, over food and drink, with the older man cautiously feeling out the two new prospects before saying anything too compromising. The honest work, of course, is murder, though that chapter is for another day.
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