Crimson Dawn (part 6)

There were any number of things that Crimson had expected her first run to be like. Dull was not one of them, and yet, that was exactly how it felt right now. Every part of her wanted something to happen to take everything off script and liven things up a lot (or even just a bit) but so far, instead, things were pretty much going to plan to an annoying degree.

Slicer had told her once that a Run never went as expected and that there always was some twist, some unknown that would throw a spanner in the works and send things spiraling out of control. The secret, he'd explained was not trying to stop it from happening. That was impossible. Rather, it was to try and control the outcome and use it as best you could to turn things back to your advantage. It had made a strange amount of sense to her at the time and, as a bonus, he merely hungover when he said it, so there had to be some truth to his words.

But that didn't make this job any more exciting. Going off the information she'd been given by Mister Johnson, she'd been able to find some of the Devil Dogs. They were a pretty ugly bunch, all human males who decided that tan coloured fatigues and red bandannas were their 'thing' and had chosen to confine their activities to a chunk of Redmond that nobody else was actively fighting over at the moment. Doubtless that was a low profile thing, as an up and coming gang that stepped on the wrong toes could easily find themselves crushed by those that didn't like the competition.

Crimson had been keeping a low profile. Lurking nearby or scurrying up to rooftops when needed, while using the same tracksuit look that had gotten her into the meet with Mister Johnson in the first place. It meant that she was nicely anonymous, and not liable to attract too much attention if she was noticed. For a while, she'd considered playing the 'corp brat'  act that she knew all too well and take a more direct approach, but realised it was probably going to just attract attention rather than divert it.

And so she waited, flitting between different groups as they milled about their business (Which mostly seemed to be drinking and comparing really ugly customized bikes that looked like they were thrown together from scrap) for hours on end. If anything, their most criminal activity is boredom she told herself, sighing quietly as she lurked on the decrepit balcony of a decrepit building, using the withered husks in a long-dead planter as cover. Couldn't somebody try a drive-by or something on these clowns already?

She was on the verge of giving it up and calling it a night (Which was pretty damning in and of itself. A Runner who needed to get some sleep because of their day job was about as lame as it got) when there finally was a semblance of activity. A battered Mitsubishi Runabout that looked to be more replacement parts than anything else pulled up to group, a pair of young human men in plain clothes getting out. Now it gets interesting, she considered as she took out the binoculars she'd borrowed from Slicer, watching the proceedings.

There was some discussion going on; she couldn’t hear any of it, but there was definitely an implication. The two plainclothes members (younger then the others, she noted. Possibly recruits) were handing over a pair of credsticks, while also indicating to something inside the car. Dealers who had just come back after emptying their supplies? she asked herself. They go plainclothes as to not draw attention to the gang, and that crapheap car is about as anonymous as it gets. I think I’m onto something here

If this was your car, then you would want to be anonymous too

Two of the 'uniformed' gangers got in, the car slowly pulling out from the curb and heading off. That was Crimson's cue, the Elf quickly dropping down from her perch to a nearby alley where she'd stashed her bike. Mounting up, she headed off after the car, finding catching up with it to be almost childishly easy. I bet my idle cruise is faster then it's flat out, she smirked as she threw a discrete AR tag on the vehicle so she could find it again in a hurry. One thing going for that junker; it blends in well with the other junkers around here. Compared to the Runabout, her own bike stood out in among the other nearby vehicles.

The battered car continued its slow, almost glacial pace for some thirty minutes through the ever increasingly decrepit streets of Redmond, managing to pick its way through thoroughfares that were often choked with debris or massive potholes. For her part, Crimson several times had to go around or pick other routes, relying on the massively out of date GridGuide maps to bring her back to the same course. She could immediately see one problem; as fast as her Mirage was, it was not well suited to what passed for roads around here.

On the upside, the drivers of the Runabout didn't seem to have noticed their tail. Maybe she was being discrete enough, or maybe they were just too embarrassed to be seen in such a god-awful car. Either way, by the time they pulled up in front of an apartment complex, they didn't seem to have any sort of welcoming committee ready for her. Instead, the pair of them simply climbed out, heading past an obvious armed lookout at the front before ducking inside.

I bet that’s the place, she assessed as she pulled the bike up around a corner, stashing it behind some debris. Continuing on foot, she turned her attention back to the structure to get some idea of what she was looking at. The first thing that come to her mind was that it was ugly; brutal slab sides with small windows and jutting boundaries that looked like they dated from the last century. Time, decay and its various inhabitants over the years had not helped either. The building was filthy, its lower portions covered in graffiti while many of its windows were smashed, boarded over or both. The top few floors on one side were opened up where part of the roof had apparently, collapsed, while there were places where shanties had been hastily tacked on to the structure.

Welcome to Redmond, Crimson winced as she searched around for a good vantage point. Not even Slicer would live in a place like this, she added, suddenly glad for the minimal if functional comforts that her day job at Vendor Mammoth allowed. That place is probably crawling with bugs and Devil Rats and whatever the hell else. Forget running water; finding something that even resembles water is going to be a hard task.

Being a Shadowrunner means that you get to
travel to exotic, exciting places

Crimson clambered up to the top of an abandoned storefront, taking out the binoculars that she'd managed to wrangle from Slicer's collection for this task. The front of the building didn't look immediately welcoming at the least. While she knew the front doors were at least functional, the presence of an armed lookout told her they were not going to be a viable way in. He's got an assault rifle, so he's going to also be insanely loud. Enough so that everybody knows what's going on. The ground floor windows were boarded up, while several of those on the second floor were open. Good place for people to hide and snipe. Front door is definitely out of the question

She relocated, hopping roof to roof as she headed further down the block, weaving her way through the mess of half-collapsed rusted roofs and the occasional yawning gap. Okay, natural Elf eyes do have their advantages, she noted, glad that there was something she was able to do without augmentation. Reaching the end of the block, Crimson settled in to another perch, now able to look at one side of the building. A few bikes, some garbage and other debris... The bikes were a rather eclectic collection, mostly older models that were sharing the tan and red colours that the gang seemed to prefer. Could have some use, but still not a way in.

A glance at her watch told Crimson just how long she'd been out there and, more to the point, just how little time she had before the start of her shift. I should just call it a night, go home and get even a couple of hours of sleep, but... There was that part of her that wanted to do something right here and now, make a move that would end all this quickly and get her past the crawling drag that this job had become. However, she also was aware tyhat she had no capacity to do this; her minimal equipment really only included what she needed locating and surveying the target, and not making any overtly hostile moves.

Any plan that starts with 'beat up a guard and take his gun so now I have a gun' is stupid, she reminded herself. It was a lesson she'd had drilled into her during her combat training with Slicer, while he'd been teaching her how to deal with armed opponents. "The first secret is to never be unarmed yourself," he'd explained. "And never relay on being able to safely confiscate a gun from your enemy. It could have safe firing triggers, it could be code or palm locked, it could have any number of other things going that you don't know about. And he's also not likely to want to give it up"

With a quiet sigh of resignation, she accepted this and moved on. Right, take a look at the back of the building and call it a night, she accepted, still more than a little disappointed at how long this was dragging on for. Her report back to Mister Johnson would likely end in a suggestion that she do even more recon, which was the last outcome she wanted form all of this. Be thorough if nothing else, so you don't need to waste so much time next time she noted as she clambered down off the roof and darted across the street, looking for a good place to hide.

The back of the building wasn't as easy to cover as the front, having only a narrow and rather refuse-choked alleyway between it and the next building across. Even then, the roofs of a row of tenement houses, most too far gone for anyone but the most desperate to consider, offered only an awkward partial view at the best of times, requiring her to slowly work her way along the row as she continued her assessment.

What had likely been a service entrance/fire exit was now covered by a single guard with a sub-machine gun, something that didn't offer that inviting of a start point. A crude camera setup supplanted his watch, and while Crimson wasn't sure if it actually worked, she also wasn't willing to take the risk. Otherwise there was a lack of ground-floor windows, even boarded up ones, which meant that the door with its attendant risks provided the only entrance from that side. Not looking good. They're making good use of what they have.

She was low on options and even lower on time, and couldn't see anything more that could be gained from watching the place any further at this point. Call it a night, cut my losses and go back to Mister Johnson I guess, she accepted. It wasn't easy to do; this was supposed to be her first run, her moment of glory when she became what she had wanted to be for so long, Instead it was this grubby mess of crawling around in old buildings for hours on end for no appreciable benefit. Going back empty handed was just twisting the knife, making the disappointment hurt that much more.

Crimson headed to the end of the row, aiming to clamber back down and then take the shortest route to where she'd stashed the bike in order to minimize her exposure while also shaving precious seconds off the time it took her to get away from here. It was as she was clambering down off the roof that something caught her eye, enough to give her pause. Most of the lower windows on the far side of the building had been boared up long ago. In among them, however, was one particularly decrepit third-story balcony, its railing long gone and part of its base crumbled away. This subsidence had caused the otherwise boarded door to shift on its base, exposing a triangle of blackness from within the apartment.

In other words, a potential way in.

That was enough to give her a small but appreciable smile. Not a total waste after all Crimson reassessed. Now she had something solid to go back with, and the beginnings of a plan.

-----

"Welcome to Vendor Mammoth, my name is... Ashley. How may I help you?"

She was trying to stifle a yawn as she spoke, and only just managing it. Her smile was weak, and her facade of false enthusiasm was instead marred by bleary-eyed exhaustion and slumped shoulders. Ashley had only gotten a few hours sleep before heading off to work, and it definitely showed. It had started off badly with her being a few minutes late (and the resultant angry glare from Shawnee who had been left to fill her spot rather than getting to go hoe and/or screw the night manager) and her own shift manager stopping to have a stern word about punctuality before she was allowed to start (And probably more than a little upset that prime shopping hours had started with an Ork out the front instead of a cute Elf as was supposed to happen)

At least her hair looked nice and her uniform was neat. Failing on those two fronts And thus creating a negative image for Vendor Mammoth in the eyes of its customers was an unforgiveable crime.

She was sleepwalking through the motions more so then usually. Most days it was a simple case of trying to pretend to be nice and generate fake enthusiasm for Vendor Mammoth's extensive range of crappy products, but today she was trying not to fall asleep on her feet and only dimly aware of her surroundings. The biggest single aid was that small bur appreciable change in temperature every time the door opened, a small jolt to remind her that somebody had entered the store and needed to be shown the obligatory, hollow, meaningless pleasantries that her job required.

It was only a short glacial epoch until lunch break, when she was allowed to retreat and, in theory, catch a bit of rest and recuperation. What she actually found herself doing was pouring over all the pictures she'd taken of the building on her commlink while supplanting her usual bland sandwich with several cans of Splode Energy Drink. What she'd found was that pictures taken on a cheap com in the middle of the night in a badly lit urban wasteland tended to come out as black blobs, which wasn't helping. She'd fired off a message to Slicer, if only to say that she'd found something and that so far she was still alive.

"Hey, Ashley, what are you looking at?"

She peered back to see Dennis hovering over her, his usual gormless smile on his face. Normally she'd have hit him with some put-down or tried to drive him off, but instead she found that she simply didn't have the energy to deal with someone who was more persistent and dumb than actually actively unlikeable. "Urban ruin photography," She managed, her reply punctuated by a yawn.

"Pretty crappy pictures," He noted. "Whoever took them clearly didn't know what he was doing."

She wanted to say something back, but couldn't manage it. "Probably"

"You okay. Ash?" He asked, having gone straight to familiarity probably because she hadn't swatted him away yet. "You look a little tired. Was it the thing you had on last night?"

She was genuinely surprised that he remembered her incredibly non-specific obvious hint to go away. "Yeah, totally," she managed. "And I probably should be getting an early night tonight too." There was a small beep from her commlink, indicating a reply.

Dennis looked like he was about to say something, when a bolt of realization struck him out of the blue. "Makes sense. Maybe some other night then."

"Sure, let's go with that," She finished with the same quality of fake smile she used for the customers.

-----

A few commlink calls had seen her arrange a post-work meeting with Slicer, one that was a lot earlier than the usual sparring sessions. Those had started late, and instead gone on even further into the night, but this time he was pretty much asking to meet her straight after work. She'd had enough time to go home, change and head straight back out, and even that was more of convenience and vanity then any sense of timetable. You couldn’t get a bus to Slicer's place, and showing up in her Vendor Mammoth uniform would have been a massive mistake for so many reasons.

She'd knocked on the door fearing the worst and yet been so very surprised when it was answered. Slicer was unquestionably awake, sober, not even remotely hung over and even hand pants on. She was almost taken aback by this, but he seemed to be almost causal about it all, as if this was normal for him. "Thanks for coming on such short notice, Crimson," he began. "Come on in, we have a lot to talk about."

The apartment was its usual messy self, but for once he wasn't a part of the problem. "What's this all about?" She asked as she sat down in one of the clean (if still cracked) chairs. "It didn't sound super-urgent, even if your timetable was a little fast."

"Drink?" He asked, offering her a can of soft drink. She nodded and took it, and then was decently surprised when he took one himself before sitting. "Okay, so here's the deal, Crimson. Most runners have access to a network of contacts, a broad array of skills and practical experience. These things come together to support a run, especially in the legwork phase of it. Right now, no offence, but you’re lacking in most of those departments."

She wanted to argue, but it was futile. He had a good point, especially considering that he'd been doing this longer then she was alive. "All true. So what do you want from me?"

"You went out there and clearly found something," He explained. "So what I'm doing is supplementing your legwork by providing my own experience and knowledge to help you out and make the most of what you have so you can plan for the next stage."

"Yeah, that makes sense," she admitted.

"So tell us what you found," Slicer continued. "Don't leave anything out. Every detail, no matter how trivial, is important."

She went over everything from last night; the obvious dealers working out of the old Runabout, the handover, the trip back to the apparent hideout and the way she had followed them. She then described all she had seen there in as good as detail as she could manage, including her observation of a possible way in. Finally she described the forces she'd seen on-site, complete with their weapons and the other apparent security precautions.

"And all my pictures of it look like horrible black blobs," She finished, holding up her commlink.

"Not a problem. You got the address, right?"

She nodded, bringing up a map on her commlink. "Marked it so I could get back there again without tailing anyone."

"Perfect," he nodded, taking out his own comm. It was a bit worse for wear like everything else here, but surprisingly modern. Crimson was rather surprised that he’d have something so, well, new. "Give me a moment."

She waited while he worked, only to be rather surprised when he came back a minute later. "Two matrix crashes wiped out a lot of the property info on old Seattle," Slicer explained. "In fact, it’s the source of a lot of ongoing problems. But based on the address, this is what I found." He presented an image of an ugly, slab-sided block of a building. "That look like your place?"

"Only a lot younger, less filthy and less likely to collapse into rubble at a moment's notice, but yeah," She agreed, nodding to hm.

"The pictures about fifty years old and there's no floor plans or other hard property info left, but I can draw a lot of conclusions from that," Slicer continued. "Given its location and what you described, the place probably has little to no power. What they have is probably off generators and batteries, and is more likely case-by-case rather than building side. So expect a lot of dark and dank inside."

"And the Devil Dogs run the entire building?"

"Probably, but that's getting ahead of ourselves," he explained. "Other things worth noting is that while building proper is still reasonably structurally sound, its insides will likely be a mess. Expect walls to have been knocked in to expand apartments, holes in floors, hallways that have been blocked off and so on. You might have to go a long way around just to get between two nearby points."

"The stairs will be relatively clear, however, as they're the only good way up or down. The lifts probably haven't worked for ages, and even if they did have power you would be insane to try and use them. Downside is that the stairs are probably also watched, so you'll need to be careful or look out for alternate routes."

"Like, say, a part-callused floor?" Crimson asked.

"Exactly," Slicer nodded. "Opportunism is the name of the game here. You see an opening, you use it, specifically if it means you can keep going undetected. You want to stay off their radar for as long as possible, if entirely."

"Now as to the inhabitants, you are sort of right in that the Dogs run the place. Given that they're a small time gang, this is probably their clubhouse and base of operations, but not everyone in there is going to be one of them. Even when you discount initiates, dependants, gang girls or boys or whatever they're into or the like, you'll probably find that the majority of the population in there are poor, dirty and desperate people who want a roof over their head, something that passes for a meal and a regular supply of whatever hit gets then by."

Crimson almost said something there but instead stopped herself. Slicer was being insanely useful here, and she didn't want to blow it now. "So what, they're going to stay out of my way and not ask too many questions?"

"Pretty much. They probably all have to cough up some sort of regular protection money to the Dogs for the 'privilege' of living there and have been roughed up enough times to know what happens when they don't. So as long as you don’t threaten them or touch their stuff, you’ll be fine. Mess with what little they had and you'll probably be knifed for it."

"So they're not likely to be a threat," Crimson concluded.

"No, but the Dogs are," Slicer explained. "They're a small gang, which is good. Given their place on the totem pole, you're probably looking at few automatics and very little augmentation. I wouldn't be surprised if their boss thinks he's tough because he has a used cyberarm or something, but that's Going to be it. Obviously you'll want to avoid picking any fights with them, even if you see them being complete slots to the people in the building. The goal is to get in, mess up their drug production and get out."

"Which brings me to the real objective. Now I’m going to guess that their drug lab is on one of the lower floors of the building or even in the basement. Why do you think?"

Crimson stopped a moment, furrowing her brow in thought as options ran through her mind. Then it hit her, and it was obvious. "No lifts," she explained. "They need to move raw materials in and finished product out, and it's easiest if they don't need to lug it up and down the stairs all the time. Especially in a creaky old building that's clogged with crap."

"Exactly," Slicer nodded. "Convenience combined with laziness. Ideally they'd have it in a well-ventilated area, but the odds are they don't give a crap about whoever's cooking their stuff. You, on the other hand, will want a respirator so you don't need new lungs after this run."

"And what sort of precautions should I take when I trash it?"

"Ideally, being out of the building would be a great start," Slicer smirked, "because these sorts of things tend to go up easily and loudly."

"Sweet," She whistled. "So We have some idea of what I'm looking at and what ill be facing, and a vague approach for how to get in there. What's the next step?" She was becoming more and more eager by the second, almost itching for a chance to get in there and get the job done.

"First things first," Slicer cut her off. "You get a good night's sleep. I want you to be as fresh and ready for this as you can, because no offence kid, but you’ll need it,"