[4] Court Tavern

Outside on the street in front of the entrance stands a large green skinned Troll with twisted horns and grizzled hide. He shows off a lot of scars, that has been worn down by time. The street has nearly no traffic on it. Folks are walking about the block. Some are doing touristy things, but are not real tourist like themselves. One or two street rat kids dart among them handing out flyers. They keep a weary eye out for strangers. Like the few runners that stand out as out-of towners. Only Castien and Gibs are here. The address they have, confirms this to be the right place. One of the kids stuff a pink slip of paper in Castien's hand, while the other kid stuffs a yellow slip of paper into Gibs hand. They reveal a lewd racial stereotype. For a good time... (pink for elven, and yellow for dwarven) women of all persuasions and sultry skills. The two kids dart back into the thin crowd, handing out more flyers. The address on the flyers, seem like it is nowhere near here.

As Castien and Gibs step near the entrance, the troll lumbers forward. He stands in their way. "No weapons!" he snarled as he spoke.

Castien examines the flier, notices the address not being close by, and crumples the paper up just to toss it to the side. "Damn, after all that's happened I would have liked a nice elven girl to relax with." Castien mumbles, mostly to himself, but probably loud enough so that Gibs could hear him. Castien, on being prompted, opens his suit jacket and spreads his legs, "It look like I got any weapons on me?"

Gibs clears his throat and stuffs the flier in his pocket. He pulls the butterfly knife from his boot and hands it to the troll. "We aren't here to cause trouble, friend."

The hefty troll eyeballs Castien hard. He grumbles at the attitude, more than the person giving it. "Funny guy." An instant flashback to a young troll on a barge showing raw power. Then back to the reality of the street. To the entrance. To the wiser troll in front of them. He continues to scrutinize both of them. He might be older. More aged rawhide than raw power, but still a troll. The scars openly displayed, tell a story. Not obvious, but it is a telling one  Chances are, he had seen more action than both of them combined. He rubs at his whiskered chin with a gnarled hand. A hint of grace in the fluid motion. If he was playing at a game of misdirection, to let people believe he's older, then he gave a tell. He must have been a street brawler. Maybe not so good, but enough to still be standing and ready to fight. "What's that?" he asked while pointing at Gibs, "Is that a pencil dick? ...or a knife?"

Gibs frowns. The day I get the business from a glorified bouncer... "Fine, I'll keep it, then.  We're here to see Wildcard."

"Yeah? ...And, he says I don't work for him." he said sternly, "I've got other patrons I'm looking out for." He stops pointing. He doesn't move away from the door. "Those pig stickers stay." he demanded, as he gestured to a wooden crate. It looks like a trash can, since it is filled with used rags, empty soda cans, and candy wrappers. It sits more closely to the sidewalk than the door. GM: Yes. I didn't give a chance for the characters to load them selves out, or leave anything behind. This is still cool anyway. The options are mainly to turn out pockets. Literally, or financially. I know what it is in the loot box, so it isn't really the issue. This part of the scene is where you can declare what gear or weapons are on hand. He did indicate both runners. Castien and Gibs can decide. A) Turn out pockets, clean. B) Turn out credstick, keep the knife. C) Try keeping the knife. Though I do get Castien did prepare for A, from the get go, but is this his final answer? Respond to the troll, not the GM.

In the middle of the communication between the three individuals the sound of a garbage bin falling over would reverberate down the tranquil streets. Partially startled pedestrians cocked their heads, looking up towards the source of the noise. At the Northeastern intersection the silhouette of an individual sprawled out against the pavement resting on a pile of spilled rubbish garnered confusion from the surrounding civilians. Their left arm, gloved and covered by the length of their long sleeved Anorak reaches out, feeling around for a moment before stopping.  The gloved fingers bump against a faded, neon white cane casting a faint glow against the silhouette. The individual uses their left hand to grab the hilt of the cane in a somewhat mechanical fashion. Then, utilizing it as leverage, they struggle to their feet, dusting off discarded candy wrappers and empty juice bottles. The papers flutter free on the stiff night wind while the bottles drop and bounce against the pavement before rolling away.  Once finished the individual switches the neon cane to their right hand and holds it at a perpendicular angle to their body, forming a triangle between the tip of the cane and their arm. Gently tapping the neon cane against the pavement they slowly approach. The subtle, quiet clicking of heels becomes more audible with each step. The humming street lights illuminate the silhouette as the distance closes.  Adorned in a moderately expensive--though obviously old and worn--business suit colored black is a woman. The suit has a black jacket, white buttoned-down shirt, and a small tie. On her feet she is wearing short black heels and long, opaque stockings. Her legs are covered just below her knees in a black business dress. Strapped to her back over her Anorak is a book-bag. She is wearing visor shades as the neon cane taps against the ground. The brief hints of her skin are a brushed ebony while her hair is brunette and tied up in bun. She stops just a few feet away from the Dwarf.  "Ah, pardon me." Her tone is respectful and her voice courteous. She takes a moment and joins the line behind the two standing before the Troll. 

"Hoi, chummer." the troll directed at the new comer. The woman recognizes the voice of Rowdy. The Court Tavern's bouncer. She had heard his response about them coming to see Wildcard. She was here to see him as well. In her mind, she might give a chuckle to what Rowdy said.  "Yeah? ...And, he says I don't work for him."  Which is a lie. Wildcard owns the Court Tavern. She could call him out for it, but the embarrassment might not be taken well.   "I've got other patrons I'm looking out for."  That part is very true. She would be one of those patrons - one of those invited guests very soon. "Miss... " Rowdy hesitates, "Spider. Wildcard was getting worried about you. He wanted to send a car to pick you up." Rowdy turns to continue blocking Gibs and Castien, but also allow room for her to pass. To let her into the Court Tavern through the main entrance. "Your meeting... You are la..." Rowdy cut himself off. He knew it wouldn't be polite.

Gibs clinches his jaw and tosses the knife in the crate. Sizing up the regular with inquisitive eyes. I can do worse with my bare hands, anyway. "Alright, any other demands before I can get a damned drink in me?"

The expression on her face remained a cool casual as the stiff night wind wailed along the otherwise vacant streets. The buzzing of the streetlights provided an ambient chorus along with the opera of the breeze. Through her own polite nature she had attempted to avoid listening to the conversation between the duo and the Troll. However, the dull, infrequently interrupted silence and vigorous wind meant that her perception caught the dialogue. She smirked, assuming the Troll's deceit a precaution against unwanted solicitors and troublemakers.  "A good evening to you ath well, chummer." There was a brief pause in her statement and an audible lisp caught against her words. Consideration for Rowdy's position numbed her desire to call him by name. Her neon cane tapped against the ground, realizing Rowdy's movement.  "Thank you." Her tone held comforting empathy as she walked passed the duo, offering them a slight bow before proceeding inside the Tavern. 

The troll watched Gibs defiance closely, while remaining aware to the lady. He watched the knife clatter into the bin. Then the troll looked towards the elf. The bouncer considered the situation. He knew what was likely to happen at the meeting. The woman disappeared through the threshold into the tavern. Satisfied with the restrained decision of the dwarf, and also after sizing up the elf. He then moved again to let them enter. "Welcome to the Court Tavern." The troll expressed enthusiastically, "I hope your visit is a pleasurable, or productive one."

After entering the building she felt the cold chill of the night roll off of her skin and the warmth of the heated edifice blow against her person. She smiled before pulling down the hood of her Anorak. Her nostrils caught the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, alcohol and warm soymeal being served to the patrons. There was also another stench, one that made her skin crawl. It was too close to home. Memories bubbled. Her teeth clenched. Reflexively she quietly took in the sound of the music, letting it permeate her person and remind her that she was still in this reality.  Exhaling she tapped the floor.  Turning left and right a few times she finally caught the familiar sound. She moved to where she believed Wildcard was seated. She approached the table and tucked her neon cane under her arm. She extended her hand before speaking.  "Ith a pleathure" She strained to control her lisp, but despite her attempts it still shined through. "thorry for being late." She bowed deeply and waited for a response. 

Wildcard stood near his regular booth. He watched the young woman navigate the room toward him. He's seen her do this a number of times. Improving each time. Still a part of him wanted to help. Not nearly a bad habit. It was part of his nature. Only on a few occasions did the results turn out bad. The barge being of recent memory. "Anny-e-ong-has-ey-o." he calmly enunciated, without using his cybered device. "Forgive me if I got that wrong. I mean well. The way I usually do that, became broken recently since our last meeting." He gestured for the table, and caught himself. She couldn't see it, but he's sure she heard his mistake. Even through the noise of the tavern.

"Please be seated. I am sure the other guest will be arriving soon. It will be their first time visiting. I am sure you may remember how well that could or may not go." he said. "I should let them have a few minutes to themselves. They've been through a horrendous ordeal. Acclimating to new surroundings can be quite a trial. I would like them to find their own comfort zone." he continued, "Personally, I was betting they jump on the first Greyhound to where ever."

Castien grumbles as he turns out his pockets to show that he still is not holding any weapons, "Why do bouncers never have a sense of humor?" Once Gibs gives up his weapon, Castien motions for him to enter first, just to make sure the bouncer didn't try anything. Once inside, he scans his new surroundings, looking for the old man from the barge, the one that saved his life. Once Castien notices Wildcard, he sits down at the bar and orders a shot of something decently priced, he doesn't want to look rich or poor, and he needs a drink after all that's happened.

The pronunciation of the Korean term was heavily accented, but this wasn't something that bothered her. Rather it was exciting. All of their previous encounters were carried out to the sound of an automated cranial, language-soft, vocalization adjustment. While the technology in the implant that enabled the communication was incredibly fascinating, hearing Wildcard's actual voice was refreshing. It was akin to a fingerprint for her. It was something, she felt, completely unique to her business associate. A smile broke across soft lips.  "안녕하세요. Annyeonghaseyo." Her pronunciation was fluid and her tone hinted at an applicable illustration. A kind example of how to correctly enunciate the term for greater fluidity and smoothness. After a short bow she adjusted the length of her neon cane and tentatively gripped the back of the wooden chair. She knew that it was synthetic of course. She had no apprehension that her associate could afford real maple and mahogany, but the expense would have nearly no financial benefits for him. Easing herself into the chair she attentively listened to his follow-up statement.  "From the message you delivered, there are four of them correct?" Her question was mostly rhetorical, but confirmation was always helpful. Slipping the straps of her backpack off, she rested it next to the legs of the chair. Using her right hand she unzipped its secondary compartment and pulled out a folder. Within were the printouts of "Business" details.  Her foray into this "society" and "culture" was still in its transitional period. However, she well understood the meanings of the seemingly benign terms. Slowly she placed the folder neatly on the table and opened it revealing six documents on either side of the folder's pockets. "I've conducted a preliminary investigation into the topics you requested. I trust that they will be beneficial to this conference." After finishing, she slid the folder towards Wildcard for his perusal.  From her backpack she also excavated an audio recorder, two blank sheets of paper, a pen and something else. It was a sleek black object that at first glance looked like a cartridge. "Ah." She started. "This was supposed to be in the other..." She spoke these words mainly to herself, unzipping a side pocket of the bag and slipping the cartridge safely inside before closing it. Working a finger into a pocket hidden on the reverse side of her blazer she revealed a credits stick. It was the typical thin of the normal generic stock but hosted an embedded blue hue and spider design on its outer surface.  She looked up towards Wildcard, his features reflected in her visor-shades. " A Taengele please." Her request was for an infrequent guilty pleasure of hers. A distilled hard liquor made of honey and anise. Produced locally in the Tir Tairngire, her first exposure to the beverage was here at the Tavern. It has become her favorite and every so often, usually when she's heavily stressed, she orders a glass to help clam her anxieties.  

Wildcard looked to Castien as he approached, and then watched the elf set himself down at the table. Card heard Geomi talking, so he turned back. He looked down to see the folder. He was a little puzzled by it. "Dang it, that troll had knocked me sensless." He shrugged the memory off. "Uh... whua? Eh... No. I just received notice that there are three of them now, and only two of them should be showing tonight. To this meeting anyway." he answered, "Actually, I must have forgotten some details since our last discussion. I believe I meant those to be for your information to research." Wildcard shrugged. Both Geomi and Castien placed their drink orders with the waitress. "Caramel, please place those on my tab." the old fixer said to the waitress. Wildcard looked radically different than he did at the barge. He cleaned up, and had medical attention since he was last seen at the warehouse. "Hoi Castien. Just you? You are looking better since I had last seen you. Welcome." he said to the elf. "Castien this is Geomi." Wildcard said as he directed the elf's attention to a small, young, and very blind Korean woman. "Geomi this is Castien."

"Thinking on it a moment more Geomi, I am glad you brought those files." Wildcard said as he reconsidered the folder on the table, "Those may prove worth while for the proposal I have." He took the folder, and then inspected what was there. Wildcard smiled. "Not what I planned for, but definitely welcome." he added, "This may have been a very odd request Geomi, but thank you for bringing it." At a glance, one of the pages was clearly identified for a business, named ShooBakery.

Gibs heads straight for the nearest bartender and leans over the counter, or at least he tries to at his stature. The elf bartender clearly isn't impressed with his Cheshire cat smile and southern drawl, but Gibs is too distracted to notice. "I'll have a shot of whiskey and a pitcher of something dark and strong, please!" She acquiesces his request. Finally! He gulps down the shot with glee, grabs his pitcher and an empty mug and waltz's over to Wildcard's table. "Don't ask me where are other two friends are, I honestly don't know." Gibs plops down in the chair next to Castien, wincing from his recent wound. He sets his dark amber cargo down on the table. "We had trouble at the warehouse with some ganger drek calling themselves the 'west coast slayers'. It's taken care of, but the front door is broken. I'm not confident we'll be safe there any longer." Gibs pours the porter into his glass with care and takes a very satisfied gulp.

"Hrmmn..." wildcard said as he watched Gibs. He left a long pause sit on the table. The old fixer blinked a couple times. He wasn't stunned. He was more like digesting the news behind a stone face. Then he slowly brought himself back to the present surroundings. A little disappointment traveled through his face like a tourist browsing a landmark. It didn't stay. "Yes. Striker sent a message on Qing's phone. What do you suppose that really means? Are you folks getting along?" Card asked Gibs and Castien. Wildcard's eyes brightened before hearing any answer. "Yes, Yes, welcome. Gibs this is Geomi. Geomi this is Gibs." Card said, finally introducing the two guest to one another. "I believe there is more of a need, with getting down to business." Card concluded. "Gibs, Smiles sends his best." the fixer conveyed. "Considering your situation, your former situation, the slate is essentially clean. I mean with him, and me." Card said openly, but intentionally toward Gibs, "Time to earn a little keep, and improve your situation." Wildcard looked down at Gibs side. He wasn't sure what he had seen before. He sort of had a double take response. "Are you okay? Is that Blood?" 

The position of her head visibly slanted. The adjustment was minute almost unnoticeable. It told of her attentiveness to the approaching footsteps. There were two pairs. The first were softer despite an audible click. Possibly from dress shoes. There was a mild hesitation attached to them. It told of a diminished confidence and obvious anxiety. The individual must have been lithe. The second pair was heavier. Each step thumped and the reverberations were wider apart. Following each footstep was a subtle sway. A paunch perhaps. Their arrivals were thoroughly distinct.  She had fully intended on paying for the beverage with her own money but politely accepted Wildcard's offer. Given her circumstances, saving money would be greatly beneficial to her situation. She listened as the woman named Caramel walked away. She always wondered what her appearance was. A practiced movement slipped her credits stick back to its original location as someone took a seat nearby.  Castien was the name supplied by Wildcard. There was a brief introduction.  "Good Evening. It ith a pleathure." She bowed slightly for a few seconds and then returned. Previously received information suggested that Castien was the individual described as the Charismatic Elf. The description illustrated a fairly tall figure with an angular face, smooth skin, long ears, slick, straight black hair and a charming smile. It was the kind of person that would look dashing in a suit. Well, such was the turn of phrase.  Before she was able to process the information provided by Wildcard, the second individual arrived. He had a gruff voice worn by age and experience but it was tinged with determination and intelligence. He mentioned a warehouse, a gang termed the "West Coast Slayers" and the exposure of their previous abode. His initial words also foretold the absence of the other two people who were supposed to attend this meeting. Wildcard responded first, mentioning the names Qing and Striker: the identifications of the Troll and the human. It was confirmation of their absence.  Finally an introduction came. "A pleathsure Gibs." She immensely struggled to control her speech. Even if it was just this, she managed to properly enunciate the Dwarf's name. He had been described as a stocky and muscular individual with rough skin, old injuries and hair flecked with gray. Life had not been kind to him. The Wisened Dwarf.  While casual conversation was exchanged between Wildcard and his associates, she took the time to make notes on the blank sheet of paper. The name's Castien and Gibs were written and underlined. Beneath each and separated by bullet points was a brief physical description. Space was left open for further relevant information.  At the mention of business Geomi slid a second piece of paper out from underneath the first. She titled it "Business Proposal" and indicated Wildcard as the employer. She wrote slowly. However, despite her visual impairment her handwriting was fairly elegant; a minor reward from years of practice.  "Yeth. I can athume that my role will be information gathering and identification?" Her question was directed at Wildcard, but any answer from anyone privy to her role was welcome. 

Before sitting, Castien extends his hand to both the woman and Wildcard, feeling a strong shake from Card, and an equally strong shake from the woman, who gets introduced as Geomi. "A pleasure seeing both of you here, " winking as he turns his head away from Geomi to face Wildcard more directly. "Not just me, Gibs will be coming in behind, he must have wanted a stiff drink. He got pretty banged up when the gangers hit us at the safehouse. How have you been? You look better than when we first met. Though I'm sure the same can be said for me," Castien says with a grin. Castien thinks for a few seconds, "I don't know what it means exactly, but it probably has something to do with those meds Qing was taking, she looked like she was getting low, and Striker didn't seem like the type to let her go alone." Based on what he's seen, this is the only logical conclusion Castien can come to. Castien felt safer in the tavern then he did at the warehouse, and significantly more so that on the barge. He felt the old fixer needed to know he had a sense of humor and jokingly said, "Agreed, even if our situation was peaches and sunshine I don't think we'd be able to sit idle with work being so close by. Thanks to you of course." Turning to Geomi and smiling he responds to her question, "If that's what you do best, then it's all yours."

The ambient sounds of the Tavern gently wafted through the warm radiated air. The quiet clicks of her ink pen were muffled under the atmosphere of the surroundings. Despite the time, the edifice was packed with customers. Considering the name, the businesses operation would most sensibly be active now and potentially until the early hours of the morning. Various different conversations carried in the ambiance. A good percentage concerned general pleasantries, the stresses of daily life and the humorous levity between peers and coworkers. Others were hushed and whispered, their every word firmly contained in the bubbles of their booths. A few were loud. Inebriated and burdened with deadlines, company work or other business, they took heavily to their drinks and tossed aside their inhibitors for the evening. Some of then laughed loudly, others swooned over the well dressed men or women, attracted to their own particular preference. The remainder sang, joining in with the familiar melodies played by the musicians on stage. The performing musicians were a rare and welcomed treat. Most locations preferred digitized DJs or completely automated sound systems. The physical presence of instrumentalists, soloists and entertainers spoke to the authenticity of the Tavern. It was real. She never had to worry about her affliction affecting her here. The boisterous drunks cheered as a woman--apparently well dressed in a long elegant red gown--approached the stage. Whether it was a human, Elf, Dwarf or Ork was unknown to Geomi, but her lyrical voice soothed the patrons with a rendition of an archaic tune. A song that originated in the 1950s. A little over a century ago felt like an ancient millennia in the Sixth World. Buffered by the subtle strums of a guitarist she temporarily floated to a venerable, unfamiliar yet comforting place. "Fly Me to the Moon" Geomi said to herself before another voice interrupted. It carried an initial hesitation that was immediately buried with confidence, humor and friendless. She caught a hint of relief as well. The tension, what little there was of it, dissipated. Geomi smiled at Castien's response. "I will thee to it." She spoke calmly, awaiting more specific directives from Wildcard.

"Here is deal." Card started, but hesitated. "Don't Laugh. It's going to be serious business." he warned. "The client, is Mr. Johnson. I've already picked up my retainer from him. He's supposed to be in town tomorrow. I think he's coming from Cheyenne." he stated. He paused again. Thinking on how to propose the job objective. "The request is a very specific thing. Several things." he said, as he considered the information that Geomi brought. "The client wants Apple Pie recipes. " the fixer stated, and then he read the faces of the runners for their reactions. He had more time to work the details out, than the runners. He stuffed his own concerns behind his blanked poker face. "In fact three of them, and maybe a fourth. Depending on the time." he said this as he looked at Geomi. "She needs to be on-site when you collect them. With today's state of the commercial matrix. Couriers of her persuasion are expected to have field experience." he could only guess at what Geomi was thinking. He tried to prepare her during past conversations.  "Fortunately, she already collected the first item." he praised. "So this leaves two remaining." he continued, "Physical distance to a location these days, directly impacts the matrix. It is not like it was twenty years ago." He thought about that. "I miss those days." He shook the memory off, and focused on the runners. "Geomi, confirmed that the last two locations are privately owned bakeries. They are positioned in high spamming zones. Meaning they would be near the malls, like a micro-brewery, or like the coffee houses." the fixer said. "To complete the task, she needs to be onsite." Wildcard said. "I am aware there is a transportation issue. I've already made arrangements for it." he continued, "She will need backup, since she lacks field experience. And you fellas need to work, so you can improve your situation." "I wouldn't put my faith in the coffin motel, down around the corner either." Card confessed, "10 nuyen per night, might be right, but would you be willing to bet on it being secure?"

Geomi shifted to her second sheet of paper at Wildcard's promptness. She realized that he was preparing to provide further specific details about the business opportunity. The stony facial expression of the Fixer was reflected in her single length visor-shades. Her expression melted from cordial to a sharp, professional stern gaze amplified by the dull tinted black of her visor-shades. Wildcard's clarification to not find his announcement humorous seemed rhetorical to her. She maintained that it was a practiced formality, a tradition expected when matters of commerce were being discussed. She immediately began processing the information as Wildcard revealed it. It was transferred in abbreviated notes onto the sheet. Business Proposal:      -Patron: Wildcard     -Employer: Mr. Johnson          - Status: Arriving from Cheyenne WY.     -Request: The tip of her pen hovered inches above the now forming operational document. Wildcard seemed unusually hesitant to continue. He kept repeating himself and interspersing pauses between statements. She questioned the sensitivity of the provided information and if it would be dangerous to openly record it. " The client wants Apple Pie recipes." There was a brief and noticeable awkward pause that washed between the discussion like a passing roll of cactus. However, Geomi remained attentive and hastily penned the additional details. Business Proposal:       -Patron: Wildcard       -Employer: Mr. Johnson             - Status: Arriving from Cheyenne WY.      -Request: Procure three [two], potentially four [three] Apple Pie recipes for the assigned client.      -Client:           - Female           - Courier           - Requests to be on field upon procurement of each recipe. Her head tilted for a moment as Wildcard provided a referendum. Business Proposal:       -Patron: Wildcard       -Employer: Mr. Johnson         - Status: Arriving from Cheyenne WY.       -Request: Procure [two], potentially [three] Apple Pie recipes for the assigned client .       -Client:           - Female           - Courier           - Requests to be on field upon procurement of each recipe.      -Locations: Her fingers stopped there. She looked up and began to speak, interjecting. Wildcard should have been familiar with 'this' Geomi by now. A friendly and amicable woman, when business time arrived she would layer him with questions and requests for clarification. Details. Details. Details. " Will we be meeting Mr. Johnthon in perthon? Will he be thending additional information?" She paused, twirling the pen in between her fingers effortlessly. "I need a dethcription of the client. Facial featureth, dreth, expected perthonality. What ith her thtated role?" She clicks the pen on and off twice before speaking again. "Which of the locationth I rethearched are we heading to? What ith the deadline for the requetht?" She paused for a moment thinking of additional questions while giving others a chance to chime in and Wildcard to respond.

Castien smirks when Wildcard tells them that they need to steal recipes, "So I'm guessing what's why she's here?" he says as he nods to Geomi, "No offense of course, I doubt either of us would be able to jack into the matrix." "One question, for all of our benefit, how close do we need to get?" Castien asks calmly. "And a motel with a door sounds a bit better than an old warehouse without one."

"I'm sorry... the client... He hired you to procure the recipes. Right?" the fixer asked. "That is what prompted you getting the first recipe." he recounted, "Forgive me. These pain killers I take, they might have caused me to miss a few details." "On delivery, yes you will meet the client, Mr. Johnson." he said, and the stopped to recount the job details. "I don't have the client's physical description." he answered. "When he arrives, a meeting address will be forwarded. I suspect, within twenty four hours." he continued, "If you accept the task, then you will be working against the clock." "The rate - the pay is 3K per runner, that arrives to the meeting." he stated, "As for the locations? I believe ShooBakery, and..." He picked up the information folder, and studied it moment. "I miss my heads-up AR display, damn troll. No good deed, I guess." He thought to himself. He then focused on the information. "Ritz Bakery." he finished. "Proximity? Onsite. In the bakeries. Geomi may need to link directly to their systems, in case she can't access with wireless." he answered. "How you do it, is up to you. At night, right now would be Mall Security, and whomever is contracted for their backup. During the day, less time and more public awareness. Which can be worse. I advise against that. Then again, you won't be proving anything to me. I am only the broker..." He thought to wait and see if anyone would finish that answer, but didn't. "...not your boss. Mr. Johnson is. I was authorized to speak for him in this meeting."

Gibs nearly spits when he hears the alias "Smiles". He's still alive? Lucky bastard!  Gibs remembers kicking in the door to his cramped apartment, seeing the mess of wire strewn across the floor, hearing the cry of his children in the room next door.  The most notorious decker in Mecklenburg county; a family man with more bills than common sense! I didn't have the heart to arrest him, just another stiff trying to make it in this crazy world... Lucky bastard! "Tell him I still remember that favor five years back and he should, too." Beatrice, I hope you were as lucky as he was. ... "It's just a scratch, Wildcard, a bit of buckshot from a 'lucky' ganger." Gibs grins when he hears the details of the assignment. Sounds like a milk run, but I don't believe in miracles. "I was hoping you could give me the name of a good street doc. Someone who could fix this botch." Gibs unbuttons his collar and pulls down his shirt to reveal the absolute mess of plastic and scar tissue. Pouring another glass of porter with his free hand,  he gives Geomi a curious look, watching her take notes. Someone who appreciates the subtle details, another student of the fine art of investigation? His eyes are full of compassion and something else. Remorse, perhaps? He reaches across the table to make contact with her hand. "I look forward to working with you. Here's to a fruitful relationship!" He gulps down another glass of porter with reckless abandon.

Listening carefully to Wildcard's correction she finally realized her mistake. Her attentive and detail oriented mind had misinterpreted information and formulated a fantasy. She mentally shivered. It had been sixth months and yet... Her fingers firmly gripped the length of the pen and corrected her mistakes.  Business Proposal:           -Patron: Wildcard          -Employer: Mr. Johnson                      - Status: Arriving from Cheyenne WY.         -Request: Procure [two], potentially [three] Apple Pie recipes for the assigned client .         -Client:                - Female                - Courier                - Requests to be on field upon procurement of each recipe. -Locations: "You're completely correct. It wath my mithtake." Geomi presented an apologetic tone for her misrepresentation of the details. When the initial business request arrived she had immediately gone to work. The fruits of sleepless nights and determined information acquisition was present in the documents that she'd presented to Wildcard.  Each document had one of the listed locations or a related business. As such they were either the assigned bakeries or accompanying eateries. There were descriptions of the specific buildings, the street addresses, hours of operation, and notable nearby venues. Cursory research was applied to each of the company's histories: The date of the founding, original investors, publicly known transitions of CEOs and registered subsidizers were all listed. She had made sure to add in the company's own stated ideologies and readily available financial reports within the past five years. Given the four quarters, each document had twenty sections of their fiscal reports. Categorized at the bottom of each document were the amount of workers the companies had currently employed as well as the salary range.  Along with some of the documents were associated news reports pertaining to prominent press that the enterprise had enjoyed over the past year. This included publicity from competitors, famous culinary practitioners and other celebrity endorsements. Geomi's dedication was plainly obvious within the neatly organized printouts. However, despite the fact that there was a recipe listed within the assortment, the task that she had originally been assigned only made mention of the recipes. Thus it had been actively slotted down the priority list cruising through her mind as she scrutinized the collected data.  Composing herself despite the potential embarrassment she returned to her professional demeanor, ignoring the heat building in her flushed cheeks.  Business Proposal:         -Broker: Wildcard        -Employer: Mr. Johnson                -Status: Arriving from Cheyenne WY within the next 24 hours.                            - Meeting to be scheduled.                            - Further details expected.           -Request: Procure two, potentially three Apple Pie recipes for the assigned client.           -Locations:                -ShooBakery              -Ritz Bakery          -Payment: 3,000 Nuyen per operator.          -Deadline: Pending.  Upon hearing the payment for the assignment Geomi was satisfied. If they worked efficiently the sum could be earned before the end of the week. She fully understood that her first "rent" was due at the end of the month and so hastily needed to acquire the required funds for the first installment.  "If I may provide a thuggethtion" Geomi began after Wildcard explained that the methods were their own to decide. "While it might theem counterintuitive, I believe it will be betht to attend to the bakerieth during their official operating hourth." Geomi always felt irritation every time she heard her own lisp. However, she firmly pressed onwards. She believed that her reasoning was sound and would entice the others with its simplicity yet subtle intricacy.  "The numerouth patronth that will be prethent during the morning hourth might appear to be a dithadvantage, but they are actually incredibly beneficial a-a-assets" Geomi visibly strained, her enunciation slowed so that the latter word could be properly pronounced to the letter. "During the evening we would be trethpathing. It would be obviouth. However, a daytime affair would place uth among the crowd of conthumerth. We'd juth be cuthomerth like everyone elth." She paused, calming herself so that she could continue. "Ith wouldn't be thrange for their clienth to be peruthing the Matrix while enjoying their athorted pathterieth. We get a table, place our orderth and appear to have a converthation while I procure the recipes." Again a furious struggle, but she properly pronounced what she felt was critical to her descriptions. "If I gain athceth to their network w-wire-wirelessly then it thhould be thimple." Reflexively she began to twirl the pen between her digits.  "If not then we'll need a creative on thite dithtraction while I connect to one of their portth." A smile broke across her face. "I've been informed that Castien ith well practiced in vocal, thocial perthuathion." Her head tilted to where Castien's voice came from. At that moment the large, calloused fingers met with her gloved left hand. Initial sensations would be stiff, tough and cold. Startled Geomi retracted that hand and extended her right, firmly shaking the Dwarf's hand. "And Gibs, I'm told that you are very well connected." She paused her explanation and exposition there to get feedback from her fellow agents.  

Wildcard blinked a moment. He certainly understood from where Geomi was coming from. He had acknowledged how skilled she is in here specialty. It surpassed his own capability. Though he didn't get formally educated in it either. He had expected her to talk it out. He hadn't expected her to write notes. In time, he hoped, that the hand-written paper trail would be worked out, and that her likely team mates would convince her to break the habit. He nearly came to terms with why they had to be hand written. Even as delicate as her writing appeared to be, there had to be a texture to it. Something tactile she could feel from later. He didn't delve on it, nor did he discourage it. He focused on the other issue. Her naivety to what the job is. What her part in it really meant. He looked to the other runners. He believed they must have missed how green she really is. He noted to himself, that she still hadn't invested in personal armor. The styling and fashion of it, might be something that is missed by her. He guessed she will have to learn the hard way, or acquire a comfort level for wearing it. The job can get rough. Paring her with these other two, might pay off. She can learn the ropes from them, and they can revisit the lifestyle of the job at a slower pace. He hoped it would work out that way. "The options are there Geomi, and something to be discussed with your prospective team mates." he said. "The thing of it, is that when specialists are brought to the table like this... chances are the legal methods have been played out." he said as he considered his words. "Bluntly? Go get the job done. Tonight. Have the requested items on hand to present Mr. Johnson at the meeting." "Don't give him a reason to take his business elsewhere."

There had been an expectation for the silence following her proposal to be filled by a comment from one of her three business associates. The surprise was the candid timeframe presented by Wildcard. The client wanted the task accomplished immediately? Tonight?! She had assumed that they'd at least be afforded a day. Geomi had no useful method of checking the time. As such she relied on her memory. The conference with Wildcard was scheduled for 8:00pm at the Court Tavern. She had left her apartment at 6:45pm. She elected not to ride her bicycle in the event that she misjudged the distance of the subtle tire roar offered by modern electric cars. Thanks to the city's commuter grid and battery powered vehicles, the warning of an internal combustion engine was incredibly rare. She was raised around the contemporary silence of current vehicles, but it never made the task any easier.  Reliance on the downtown metro system proved to be her undoing. For whatever reason there were exceptionally long delays that extended her usual one hour ride to the nearby station. Given the anxious words uttered by Rowdy, she had missed the 8:00pm arrival time. If Wildcard had truthfully worried for the reason behind her tardiness, then a half hour must have passed at least. Then there were the brief introductions with the other operatives. Geomi extrapolated that the current time was feasibly around 8:45pm. Her thoughts started to race.  The best case scenario relied upon Mr. Johnson scheduling the meeting for 8:00pm the following evening. Worst case, he would summon his commissioned employees for a 9:00am gathering. This meant that the team would, at the very least, be required to complete the given task in under twelve hours.  Twelve hours.  Geomi took a moment to let that seep in. They had to procure the recipes from two companies after business hours, under the veil of darkness and without discovery. The first major issue was the locations. ShooBakery and Ritz Bakery were at least two hours apart via the metro system. Though a frequenter of the most ominous graveyard shift, Geomi had limited knowledge on the availability of the late night trains that passed through the bakeries' neighborhoods. The second complication was security. It wasn't an issue because they were any specialized firm. The infamous Knight Errant and related contracted private security organizations shouldn't have been a viable issue. The real problem was the third complication which severely aggravated the second.  Geomi herself.  She knew her own detriments quite well. She understood well enough that an evening excursion with such a significant time sensitivity would present a huge liability for the group while she was outside of the Matrix. Geomi had every confidence that she could acquire the information in mere seconds, but getting within range conferred a daunting obstacle. When even the most minimal security measures were factored in the proposition evolved to become considerably more intense. She realized that her breathing had stiffened. She inhaled.  And then exhaled.  "Okay then..." Geomi began. There was a subtle fire of determination as the cogs in her mind spun up to speed. "First I need to return to my apartment and get my supplies." She jotted something down on her list.  - Deadline: 8:00am  The paper was then slipped along with the forming dossiers about Castien and Gibs inside of another retrieved folder from her backpack. She slid the folder back inside. "If either Castien or Gibs have a vehicle that would be motht appreciated. If not then we'll have to take the metro." After saying so she provided the duo with the location of the two bakeries. She also offered Wildcard a passing inquiry. "The fourth recipe. Which ethtablithment ith it located?" She wasn't too eager to add an additional destination given their time limit, but if part of the assignment was getting done tonight, then she preferred that all of it be finished tonight.  Before retrieving an answer Geomi shifted her head to face Castien and Gibs.  "I will be completely capable of retrieving the requethted itemth, but I will be liability to you outthide of the Matrix. I will perform ath optimally ath pothible, but will require athithtance." There was no point in denying her deficiencies to her associates. It would do none of them any good. "Get me within range and I will thilence the thecurity camerath, unlock doorth and get uth inthide. I'll leave the phythical thecurity up to you."  Geomi bowed deeply upon finishing her statements. She was eager to get started since the clock was ticking. 

"Whoa whoa hoa! I think we've got a live one here." Wildcard chuckled, "You have to appreciate her enthusiasm." The fixer looked to the other runners. "Are you in? What do you think Striker's take on this would be." he asked, "I am not making any assumptions here, and I would believe that you may have questions too." "Geomi! As for transportation, my man Round isn't here yet." he said, hoping to calm her down. "His part is settled already. He's only driving the group. As for you and the others, if they take the job, need to talk with each other about the details."

Castien listened to every part of Geomi's plan intently, trying his best to make a mental note of crucial details. "Agreed, the day is our best bet, should be easier to blend into a crowd of patrons then sneak in at night." Castien says as he turns to face Geomi, smiling like an idiot before realizing she can't she it. "Right, " he says after coughing to calm his nerves from being an idiot, "I'm in, in case that wasn't clear. Sounds like a fairly straightforward job, and I could really use the nuyen." Castien sighs at the mention of having to wait for a ride, "Well, I guess it's better than spending money we don't have. Wanna go over the plan in more detail? Back-up to the back-up and the like?" Castien asks, relaxing in his chair.

Gibs leans back in his chair and finishes off his third glass. "We're not in a place to be picky. Striker would probably laugh in your face, but he ain't here. Let's do it."

GM: Gibs may not have gotten full satisfaction from his selected beverage, however, it does taste great. On a positive note, the functionality his cyber device changed. It had been working overtime, and it was losing efficiency. The alcohol seemed to help it get back on track. It was never a miracle tool. It couldn't rework wounds overnight. The micro-doc can almost work nearly as well as its sister device, but both of them still needed time. Now, at least it isn't inflicting more wounds, anymore. Maybe that crazy-mad doctor from the barge took advantage of the micro-doc. Maybe he installed some heinous instructions on it. While leaning back in the chair, Gibs felt a kink pop back into place. Like a piece of the bone lace was properly re-positioned.

A strategy began forming in Geomi's mind like an expanding, self replicating sequence of code. As the lines of programming extended, a new cog was created. It interlocked itself within the complex clockwork being generated by her mind. Wildcard's sudden elevated volume caused her to stop. She had been in the process of standing. Haste had begun guiding her actions, but the Fixer's clarification generated a returned sense of ease. Though it was temporary. She sat down in her chair and listened to the affirmation and comments offered by Castien. There was a brief pause, a moment to properly direct her burgeoning thoughts before releasing them. "Okay. Firtht let'th thtart with the locationth themthelveth." Her left hand rested somewhat awkwardly against the surface of the table while her right provided supplemental gestures to her descriptions. "ThooBakery ith located in a downtown thhopping center called Pacific Place. The Bakery itthelf ith privately owned. However, bathed on my rethearch the entire mall ith a thubthidiary of Natural Vat Technologieth. ThooBakery ith pothitioned near the wethtern entrance of the thhopping center. Ath thuch it enjoyth a conthiderable amount of traffic and hath experienced exponential thucceth over the patht two yearth." Her reasoning for supplying the latter details was due to the difficulty for moderate businesses of any kind in the Sixth World to gain ground. This was because if they encroached on the market of one of the larger AAA, then they'd face immediate failure due to superior products, better advertising and company leaks. Given the nature of their task, the business was likely being targeted by one of their competitors. "Thith ith both beneficial and problematic for uth. The firtht floor meanth that we will have rapid Acceth to the exitth but ith altho where the camerath are concentrated. An additional ithue ith the mallth thecurity terminal. From my invethtigationth it requireth a thpecific thim card identification that the employeeth have in their acceth keyth. I'll be able to get the door open, but we'll be on a timer. I can make an attempt to prevent it from thending a notification to the building'th thecurity office, but my priority will be neutralithing the alarm thythem." Visibly Geomi was utilizing her index finger to illustrate an imaginary picture that was obviously quite vivid to her. "The camerath feedth will be a little bit trickier. I recall that they are thtaged and theparated into three distinct thectorth for the firtht floor. Thhutting them down is too rithky because ith would alert whomever ith watching the visual feed in the thecurity office." She paused a moment. "Tho I'll have to deceive them by looping the footage prior to our entry. I'll have to do tho for at leatht thectorth A and B, otherwithe we'd thtill be theen on camera at the further angleth. Once that ith completed I will unlock the entrance tho that we can get inthide. It may or may not trigger a notification at the thecurity office, tho we'll have to work fatht." Questions about whether or not the notification could be silenced would surely arise. The answer was yes, but Geomi had an inkling that it would be a trap. She assumed that the entrance was pinged at regular intervals for a signal that would likely come from the same program sending the identification. Attempts could be made to spoof the signal, but depending on who installed the Matrix security, that in itself might set off an alert. "Our next obthtacle will be the Bakery'th thteel thutterth. I can eathily get through the terminal lock, but the thubtle trap ith the thutter itthelf. Whether it ith automated or lifted manually it ith gonna make noithe. Tho we have to enthure that no phythical thecuirty are within earshot or they'll come invethtigate. Thpeaking of the manned patrolth I will be of little athithtance when dealing with them. If I may be tho audaciouth I'll have you tell me what the directive ith to circumvent their prethence. I'll follow whatever thuggethtion you have ath betht I can." She waited a moment to give Castien or Gibs room to interject with their own ideas, but also made sure to continue. "When the thutter ith up thereth the door. Ith hath a traditional bell hooked up above it. When ith openth there will be a chime. Ith ithn't electronic so I have no way of thtopping it. Carefully puthhing it should mute itth ring, but if there ith already thomeone inthide, they'll hear it. At which point I will defer to you both, but I don't think there will be." She shifted her head towards Castien and Gibs and she mentioned this. "Once I'm inthide the thtore I'll be in range of their PAN and will only take a few thecondth to obtain the requethted data." She stopped there and rethought her previous statements. "If ith goeth thmoothly then the whole operation thould take five minuteth. Door, camera, thutter, PAN and then retreat. If there are complicationth then we'll have up to twenty minuteth. Pacific Place has a good thecurity contract with Lone Thtar. They'll rethpond within fifteen minuteth." By her tone, it was clear that Geomi didn't want to deal with Lone Star. In her mind if they were alerted the whole operation would be a failure even if they weren't caught. "The next location ith Ritz Bakery." She inhaled and then exhaled slowly. It was an indication that it was going to be their biggest problem. "It'th in Pike Park Place" She said. For natives to the Sixth World Seattle, the reason for her trepidation would be obvious. Situated near the docks, Pike Park Place encompassed multiple streets and avenues. Jammed pack with eateries, cafeterias, food stalls and mobile businesses it was dastardly both in meatspace and within the Matrix. It was famous in the real world for its 24-7 activity and round-the-clock customer service: They served the typical nine-to-five wage-slaves, the six-to-two graveyard workers and even the three-to-eight part-timers. In addition it was a serious tourist hotspot heavily advertised by the various local corporations and Seattle's government. In short Lone Star would be there and they'd be everywhere. This would cause significant issues even before Geomi attempted to access the Pike-Place PAN. It was notorious for its incredible spam. As such each individual business connected had its own sub-network and specific PANs. The access range was incredibly small. One had to actually be in the stores, and jacked into a provided terminal port in order to enter. This forced customers to use implanted applications of the terminal configurations instead of their own external gear. It meant that she'd have to code on the fly and walk a fine line to not trip security. "I can tell you where the bakery ith, but ath far ath getting there and not attracting attention I have to defer to you both." As she said this Geomi also explained what the Pike Park Place was like just in case someone hadn't been there before. "Once inthide I will need a dithtraction and time. Thuch a heavily thpammed area will thignificantly thlow me down. It'll take a few minuteth to puthh patht the interference once I access their local terminal. However, ath before I am confident in my ability to obtain the data. Once obtained we buy maybe thome thoy-loaf and then return to the metro." Finished, at least for the moment, Geomi looked up for questions, disagreement and consensus. 

Right then, Castien and Gibs receive a text from Qing's number. "Text me when the meeting is done, and you're heading back. Don't need job details until you get here."

"If you can shut down the matrix-dependent security, I'm sure we can handle any distractions you need to work." Gibs sees the text and gives Castien a sideways glance. "No way Qing sent this. Has to be our Striker."

Castien's head goes a little numb listening to all the details given by Geomi, not due to the lisp, but due to the sheer amount of work she's gone through going through all those situations, all the details... Castien would never be able to think of all the different situations, luckily for everyone he didn't need to. "Sounds like a plan to me, Gibs and I can handle distractions, I'll take care of the subtle ones, and Gibs can take care of the ones that require a punch to the face, or something similar," Castien says confidently, knowing this plan will work for sure. "Agreed Gibs, has to be him. What do you think he's gotten himself in to?" Castien asks, facing Gibs and lowering his voice slightly.

"Okay."  Geomi exhaled for a moment in order to center herself. It appeared as though her business partners were alright with her proposal and were willing to perform appropriate impromptu solutions if any expected or unforeseen issues arose. There was a brief silence that caused confusion and minor anxiety for her. However, it quickly abated when Castien and Gibs resumed conversation. It had something to do with their missing associate "Striker." Based on their words he had just sent communication.  "I do believe that our operational procedure has been agreed upon." Geomi caught her formal speech and relaxed some in embarrassment. "I thtill need to return home and get my supplieth. I athume that everyone elthe needth to get equipped ath well." Geomi extended her neon cane and started to get up. She shifted her head towards Wildcard. "I would appreciate it if you could have Round chauffeur both Gibs and Castien to their hometh and then drive them to thith rende-ren-rendezvous." Gemoi struggled with her speech defect, getting her point across and then writing something on a torn piece of paper. It was a street address located a few blocks away from the Palace Place shopping center where ShooBakery was located.  Zipping up her backpack and slowly slinging it over her shoulders she spoke again. "I'll head back to my apartment, get my gear and then meet you both there via the metro." Geomi took a moment to wait for last responses before she bowed and made her way towards the exit. 

Wildcard blinked, while he thought to himself. "I guess we all know who is in charge... now." Without giving anything away anything through his stone-hardened poker face, he accepted the note. He then handed the address to Gibs, while tracing a gaze from her to the dwarf. "Well, I believe everything is in order." he said with a smile, "Happy Hunting." "Check in after a couple days. Next week maybe?" he concluded with a short wave.

"Not to forget..." Wildcard remembered Gibs question, "I do know a sports doctor from the local urban brawl team." The fixer scrolls through a contacts screen on his commlink. "His name is Aaron Sachs" While sorting, he gets a notice that chimes on his device. He finished with sending contact info forward to Gibs commlink. "Yes. I believe Round is also here with your ride."

With a deep bow directed at the gathered trio Geomi said her temporary farewells. She turned and tapped the neon cane against the floor. Her head turned a few times until she was properly oriented. With an additional haste to slightly awkward steps, she exited the Court Tavern. A nod was directed towards Rowdy. "Have a wonderful evening." Hood up, she strolled down to the street towards the metro station.