Rain falls on Seattle as Delphinium receives a message from her Fixer, a Mr. Harry Stone.
Johnson wants a meeting with you and your team at Aces well into the Redmond Barrens. Seems kinda jittery, but the money looks good. You in?
Sending the confirmation, Delphinium fires off a couple more messages, one to each of her team mates.
Half an hour later a ping comes through from Thorne, he’s outside, his Chrysler-Nissan barely hiding it’s former life as a Lone Star patrol car.
“Roq’ll meet us there, she’s got some other business to take care of first.” the human gun-fu Adept, Delphinium, tells the Ork street Samurai.
The drive continues in comfortable silence, as a thunderstorm rolls it’s way across Seattle.
True to her word, Roq’s car sits underneath what little shelter she could find as close to Aces as possible.
The three well armed and prepared Runner’s make their way into the grimy, dingy little bar.
Inside, the years haven’t been kind to Aces, wallpaper hangs off the wall, ancient music is pumped from tinny little speakers and the clientèle leaves much to be desired.
Two grifter looking figures hunched over their drinks at one of the tables, an older couple – strangely out of place in this rotten bar – coo over one another in a corner booth, a harassed female waits on the table as a male in his mid-twenties makes surreptitious eyes at her.
Finally, a figure dressed a moderately expensive suit and a posture that just screams “corp” and a trio of males in gang clothes – an Ork, and Elf and a nervous looking human,
As the trio make their way towards Mr. Johnson the nervous human ganger steps up, whips out a pistol and stammers;
“F-F-F-Franks, you s-s-s-s-shouldn’t have c-c-c-c-crossed us. Now y-y-y-your going to g-g-g-get what’s coming to y-y-you”.
The blast from the pistol is nearly blinding in the gloom of the bar.
Reacting instantly, Delphinium whips out her Defiance Protector and zaps the delinquent human until he’s lying on the ground – twitching.
Thorne whips out his Colt Cobra and hoses down the Crimson Crush Ork, battering his armour.
Roq focuses her mind and launches a bolt of glistening mana at the Ork, singing his neurons.
The gangers – the ones still conscious at least – flip over the table and use it as cover – the Elf snapping off a panic shot at Delphinium before leaping at the waitress and using her as a human shield.
Mr. Johnson, unscathed by the missed shot, throws himself under the table, cowering as best he can.
The two grifters, mimic the gangers – tossing their table over and hiding behind it – whilst the bartender ducks beneath the sturdy wooden counter.
The elderly lady apparently faints – the sudden gunshot rather surprising – her husband fusses over her as she slumps into her seat.
Delphinium offers the gangers a chance to surrender – punctuated by a duo of bursts from Thorne’s SMG at their first refusal.
The Ork heavily wounded and his Elven companion’s nerve rapidly fading, the pair take the rational choice and throw down their weapons.
‘Escorted’ from the premises – after a quick heal spell – the gangers are no longer a threat to the patrons, quickly followed by the pair of grifters.
Roq checks over the elderly woman, quickly realising she’s suffered a heart attack and patches her up with a blast of a heal spell.
A grateful – and still living – Mr Johnson approaches the group and transfers some quick cash over as a bonus for keeping him alive – some of which is passed onto the bar tender as reparations.
Learning that both DocWagon and Knight-Errant are on the way, the runners and their Mr Johnson hastily vacate Aces and head for Thorne’s car to rap up the meet.
It seems Johnson has a problem with someone named ‘Jonathan MacNamara and wants dirt dug up on him. Mr. Johnson has a slight lead in the form of some suspicious deeds for property in the ’Bargain Basement’ area of Redmond.
50k each is the payment – minus the Fixer’s finders fee – for this simple bit of work. Everyone seems happy with it, leaving Thorne to drop Mr. Johnson off, Roq and Delphinium head off.