Crimson Dawn (part 15)

It was drizzling when Crimson reached the arranged meet, the thick clouds and rain making the blinking neon signs and bright lights of the Tourist district seem even brighter. As he'd suggested she was travelling light, carrying only her concealed pistol for the moment. She parked her bike and headed towards their meeting spot, a grimy storefront several doors down from a club,

Even as she approached, Crimson could tell that there was something wrong with Slicer. The older Elf was glancing around, as if he was waiting for something and not in a good way. His mood, his stance, his entire look said that he was nervous and anticipatory, like he was expecting disaster at any moment. When she approached, he turned to face her, but not without sparing a backwards glance across the street.

"So what's up?" She asked, her tone almost impatient.

He turned to face her, wincing as he did. "I'll make this simple, kid," he replied. "In a moment, you're going to head into that club. Once in there, you'll be contacted by a Johnson. He'll be lining you up with a team that he's put together to do a job for him." His tone was wary, each word pronounced slowly and clearly to ensure that there was no chance of misunderstanding.

And compared to his clear caution, her reply was one of almost childish glee. "A team and a real run from a real Johnson?" She beamed. "Fragging awesome. This is it, the big leagues. What I've wanted for ages." She glanced back at the club, ready to head in there on that alone.

"Wait a moment," he spoke up, his caution a clear contrast to her enthusiasm. "You need to know what you're getting yourself into. These are people who you don't know. Everyone's going to have their own agenda, their own goals and their own plan. They're not going to follow you just for the sake of it, and likely each and every one of them will have their own idea of what they think is the best plan to follow. You're going to have to figure out how to work with them if you want to succeed. Otherwise you're going to get yourself killed."

"Yeah, no offence but you sound like a lame team-building vid at work," Crimson dismissively replied. "I got this."

For a moment Slicer looked like he was about to turn away or shout or something. There was a flurry of movement, as if every part of his body was tensing up. And then he stopped, relaxing, his hands open. "Just be careful, that’s all"

"It's cool. I'll be okay," she reassured him. You sound like my mother, Crimson mentally added. I know what I'm doing.

"I can't be with you in there, and obviously not on the run," he finished. "Just remember what I've taught you."

"Shoot straight, Conserve ammo and never deal with a dragon," Crimson nodded with a small smile. "See you"

Insert first image found from Googling 'cyberpunk night club'
here

She headed into the club, getting by the cursory weapon check with ease. As soon as she was inside, she was assaulted by the electronic music, while coloured lights played across the darkened room in an almost random fashion. The room was dominated by its dance floor, itself a writing mass of Metahumanity dancing to the oversaturated beat. Yeah, it’s passible, she considered as she eyed up the crowd. Many of them struck her as being about her age with overly flashy clothes and to-neat hair, suggesting that this club's key crowd was the corp kid demographic. I've seen better though.

Crimson took a seat overlooking the dance floor, casting her eyes around for anyone who seemed to be out of place or could be a potential member of her team. Nothing did immediately catch her attention, even if her eyes did wander to a cute (but clearly dumb as a bag of rocks) young Elven man on the dance floor. Focus. You're here on a job. She pulled her eyes off him (and how tight his pants were) to again cast around.

One, human man with a definitely not corp-issue mohawk was at the end of the bar, chatting up some vapid blonde sitting next to him. Score one, she considered as she continued to look around. Nothing else was immediately grabbing her attention, however, with nobody else who struck her as not being a part of the dumb cashed-up corp kid crowd. Slicer would have eyeballed every threat in the place by now, she told herself. Either that or gotten completely trashed at the bar.

She had been there for about fifteen minutes, her attention alternating between the mohawk guy and the young Elf as she waited for the next step of the job to begin. Her study was interrupted by a beep from her commlink, a simple message appearing on screen. Room 12, upstairs. Five minutes. A quick glance told her that the mohawked man had also just received a message. Now to see if it was the same one.

The club's upper level was mostly about discrete rooms where one could meet others without any chance of being watched. As Crimson had expected, the blue-mohawked man was waiting outside twelve when she arrived. Up close, he was not exactly impressive; slim with long, gangly limbs, he seemed to be mostly made of knees and elbows. "Hoi," he began, glancing towards her as she approached. "You here for the Room Twelve meet?"

"Just like you," she simply replied.

A grin spread across his face, one that was making a brave attempt at excluding confidence. "Name's Protip," he explained. "With a zero. Nova-hot code slinger."

Sure you are, she told herself. "Crimson. I bring the big guns."

"Wiz," he beamed, obviously eyeing her. She very much doubted it was trying to get an assessment of her physical capabilities or combat skills. "Though I'm guessing we're not the only members of this crew."

"Probably not," she agreed, nodding to the end of the hallway. A scruffy Dwarf clad in a tattered coat was waiting by the stairs, trying his best to look unobtrusive. Instead it was having the opposite effect, making him stand out even more. How did he even get into the club in the first place, she wondered, considering its preferred clientele. Maybe somebody knew he was here for the meet.

The Dwarf could tell that she'd eyeballed him, quickly realising that it was pointless to try and play low key. Instead he cautiously approached the pair of them, his eyes darting around as he stepped past each door. What's he expecting, that he's going to be attacked at any moment? Crimson asked herself. Ghost, if this guy's a part of our team, we could be screwed. First sign of danger and I be he'll scurry for cover.

Might as well make an effort. She stepped over to the Dwarf, who seemed to jump just a bit. "Here for the Room Twelve meet, right?" She began. "Name's Crimson, that's Protip," she explained.

"Scav," the Dwarf replied, his eyes glancing over her in a way that was less checking her out as it was checking if she wasn’t carrying a concealed gun or about to murder him. "Yeah, I am."

"Wiz," she managed with her best fake enthusiasm, a level that Ashley would have been proud of. "Guess that makes three of us."

"Four, Chummers," a heavy, growly voice countered. Spinning around, Crimson was ready to go for her concealed pistol for an instant. Protip just stood there, gawking, while Scav ducked behind the decker.

Before the three of them was a massive Ork, heavily muscled and clad in sleeveless leathers. His left arm was adorned with a maze of bright tattoos, while his right was replaced with a very obvious, chrome Cyberarm. Narrow black eyes and a shaved and tattooed head only accentuated the package. "Name's Krusher. I guess you sorry lot are the fraggers what are running with me."

Crimson immediately wanted to leap on him and rip his throat out just for that. Protip also seemed to sense that in her as she tensed, the skinny Hunan backing off from the pair of them only to bump against Scav. Fortunately, the sound of an opening door and another voice coming from within did seem to defuse the tension.

"I am so glad the four of you could make it," a slow, steady man's voice replied from within. "Please, come in and take a seat."

Crimson shot Krusher a single angry glance before she turned around, taking the lead in stepping inside to meet their would-be employer. The small room was dominated by a single figure a middle-aged Ork man wearing a sharp suit, one that did little to hide the muscles on his frame. While nowhere near as big as Krusher, the suited man still loomed large over everyone else present, both in height and bulk. She took a seat, the others filing in behind her. There seemed to be a brief flash of recognition between the two Orks as Krusher sat, but neither seemed to comment.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he began. "My name is Mister Johnson. I have called your all here for a very specific job."

Her commlink reported an incoming message form him, one that she accepted. Immediately, new AROs began popping up on her cybereyes. From the looks of it, at the very least, Protip was seeing the same. Conversely, Scav seemed to just shrink a little more. "This is Holdfast security Solutions, a Seattle-Based security firm that provides security to numerous clients. In recent years, they have expanded and now have offices in the Mainland UCAS as well, even if their headquarters are here."

"My Client-" he pronounced the capitol in 'client' very clearly - "has taken exception to some of their operational practices, and therefore has tasked me with disrupting their operations. Your objectives then will be threefold. The first is to get into their Headquarters and damage their operational capabilities. I want this to both hamper them, but also to make them look band and show that they are unable to protect their own people and thus cost them the confidence of their clients."

"The second step is to acquire their client data," he continued. "They keep complete lists of everyone who they have contracts and agreements with, and that data could be very valuable to my employers. It is our understanding that their main datstore is kept securely in their main office, and thus will need to be physically accessed."

"The third is to send them a very key strong message," he finished ass the image of a human man popped up on the ARO. Middle aged with short-clipped hair, his demeanour was stern and humourless, his features dominated by narrow eyes. "This is Kyle Bannerman, recently promoted to the head of Seattle Operations. My client would like him extracted and rendered to their custody. If that is not possible, then he is to be eliminated."

Johnson sat back in his chair a moment. "Are there any questions?"

Crimson had a million of them. But right now, she also didn't care at all. This is it, she told herself, brimming with excitement. My first real run with my first real team against a corp target. This is going to be awesome. It was what she had wanted for so long, and made everything she had done previously seem like a child playing games. I can't wait.

And even if she'd given the slightest attention to Slicer's concerns beyond brushing them off, she didn't care at all.