02/14/2075

[Mr_Praetorian]

"Fair enough," agrees Harvard, while sipping on a cup of water. "I go by Harvard. I'm a lawyer by day, negotiator by night, and not a bad shot with a pistol."

[Sajuuk]

Netizen drinks his soycaf with the motions of someone who's drank an inordinate amount of the coffee substitute, ignoring the taste and drinking it as quick as he could before eating the cup as well - the perks of being an ogre, one might suppose. "I suppose you could call me a decker of sorts. I do custom work on icons for people, but that's hardly the limit of my skills." Netizen doesn't appear to have a cyberdeck on him, but theoretically KE might not have confiscated it, or it could be implanted into his head. He carries a large-looking revolver, the kind that used to be seen frequently in the hands of Lone Star until they lost the Seattle security contract to Knight Errant.

Hecate puts her water down and keeps staring out the window, as if keeping an eye on her surroundings. "Weapons specialist, for a lack of a better term. Guns, blades, punching people, that's my territory." Hecate's pieces of confiscated gear had been numerous - two knives, a collapsing staff, a stun baton, a set of reinforced gloves, taser, hold-out pistol, large revolver, machine pistol, lever-action shotgun, and lever-action sporting rifle. Almost all of the gear had disappeared into concealed holsters quickly, leaving the elf with the shotgun, rifle, and revolver - almost like a strange, pointed-eared figure from an Old West trid. You're not sure what's stranger, the fact that she can hide that many weapons in her coat, or the fact that everything she was carrying was legal or restricted.

Last to introduce his skills is Doctor Shadow, the dwarf with the common handle. "Well, I patch people up, be it using magic or medicine. I can sling some mojo if needed, and in a pinch I can shoot a gun, but I stay out of the astral realm. I can see into it just fine, just can't project. Spirits handle the astral for me." The dwarf is armed with a knife, taser, and machine pistol, not uncommon armaments for any runner.

[Squall255]

"Quite the skill set we have here. Should prove for an interesting few days. Hope the jing is worth it. Anyone of you wageslaves going to need a ride in tonight?"

[Mr_Praetorian]

"I'll meet you all the place. There a few errands I have to run." Harvard responds before standing. He then reached into one of the pockets in his jacket and pulled out some of his "Sebastian Turner" business cards.

"Here's my contact info. Like our friend, I'm a lawyer, though I doubt she has my contacts."

"We should meet up somewhere before going to Banshee. Any ideas?"

[Squall255]

"Wont it be a little obvious if we all arrive together? I guess not. It'd be like a bar crawl."

[Mr_Praetorian]

"The person we're working for will want to see the whole team."

[Squall255]

"I just meant that maybe we wouldn't want to all walk in the door at the same instant. I guess we're safe enough out in Redmond though. I know of this place off of Union Hill Road that serves some mean Japanese food if we want to get a little food beforehand. Called the Phoenix House. It could use the business, so getting a booth to ourselves shouldn't be too hard."

[Mr_Praetorian]

"Phoenix House then."

[Sajuuk]

After some discussion, everyone agrees on meeting at the Phoenix House.

(Anyone have anything to do during the day, or shall we fast-forward to the evening?)

(Brain distracted, keeping this post short.)

[Squall255]

Weatherman attends his guild meeting after his van shows up. It is uneventful. He then heads to the meeting point.

[Mr_Praetorian]

Harvard goes back to his apartment ang begins his normal morning routine: Exercise, shower, breakfast, news, etc. Other than lunch with a girl he shared a taxi with a week ago, his day passes uneventfully.

At the appointed hour, he joins the other at the meeting spot.

[Sajuuk]

At the appointed hour, everyone arrives at Phoenix House in their various fashions. Those with vehicles arrive under their own power, the other's hitch a ride on public transit to the closest stop and walk the rest of the way. After a quick bite of some Japanese food, everyone is loaded into Weatherman's van and is on their way to the meetup point in the Redmond Barrens.

Arriving at Banshee, you can tell that even by shadowrunner standards, Banshee is not a nice place. If it wasn't evident enough from the rundown facade of the building (consisting of crumbling twentieth-century wood and brick) and the blinking red neon sign slowly dying away to the last phosphor, the state of things would be made clear by the guy who comes crashing out the batwing doors as you're attempting to wander in. Not running, but thrown, he crashes to the ground and rolls. He’s a brown-haired Anglo norm in a synthleather jacket, with snot and puke crusting his chin, whiskey staining his shirt collar, and a hell of a shiner.
“And this time remember to stay out,” shouts the pissed-off ork bouncer, dusting off his hands (one of which is cybernetic). Then his yellow-eyed gaze turns to you. He points to a peeling paper sign on the brick wall just inside the door that reads NO WEAPONS in jagged capitals (the Defiance T-250 leaning on the wall below it is apparently an exception), and then extends a metal mesh basket where you can deposit yours. From inside you can hear the wailing of orxploitation-influenced nu-metal from a sound system that sounds suspiciously like a busted jukebox, rising above the tumult of clinking glasses, raucous conversation, and at least one bar fight about to break out. Your nose detects a unique mélange of stale whiskey, spilled beer, sawdust, and sour sweat.

(Anyone going to hand over their weapons or are you going to attempt to conceal them?)

[Squall255]

Weatherman opts to leave his weapons in his van.

[azrael]

Hecate opts to leave her weapons with the bouncer. She's deadly enough without them.

[Mr_Praetorian]

Harvard also leaves his weapons in the van.