Disaster Zone

The runners are contacted by their fixer regarding a job from an outside party.  The job promises to be relatively simple.  A fellow foreign fixer will be handling the meet.  The meet is at Rikki’s Rathole in Everett at 6PM.

Rikki’s Rathole is in the ramshackle basement of a rat shaman’s lore shop.  Run by a friend of the rat shaman “Elsie” called Harry “Flamboyance” Brown, the ex-Fuchi wage mage prides himself on knowing the magical underbelly of Seattle.  The food and drink are mediocre and the ambiance kinda sucks, but is a guaranteed safe haven for runners in Everett.

Their employer is from “out-of-state”, as the team’s fixer puts it.  The fixer is an ork in a pressed suit, but mixed with a tribal look.  He wears a couple different tribal fetishes on his body (though assensing him shows him to be mundane).  A deep ragged scar runs down the side of his face and his face is deeply pocked with old acne scars.  Despite his eclectic fashion sense and marred appearance, he flashes them a winning smile as they approach.

“Xest snyakwqi (Good afternoon in Salish, pronounced Kest Sin-ya-kwikeh).  Please, sit.  I have a business proposal for you.”

Once the team is seated and if they decide to brave the fare at the bar, the fixer will wait until their orders have arrived.  “I’m Talon, a fixer out of Bellingham.  Not quite the scene for runners as your town is, which is why I had to cross the border to find some more skilled runners than the crews I usually work with.  It’s probably overkill, but I always do what the client asks.  Here’s the situation:  my client has a package coming in from the Athabaskan Council and the contents are… aw hell, who am I kidding, they’re down right illegal.  So, they can’t just fly into Sea-Tac or Bellingham International.  So they’re using a smaller airport with less stringent customs and controls.  They will be landing in Prince George airport in the old Tsimshian Protectorate tomorrow early afternoon.  I need your team to meet my client’s partner when his plane lands, then bring him and his package safely to Bellingham.  My client doesn’t expect complications, but I’m not so confident.  My client is offering 3000¥ each for the job, but I’ve leveraged him for more should things not go according to plan.  Interested?”

Talon is authorized to negotiate a little out of the gate, but Mr. Johnson isn’t about to get bent over the barrel for a babysitting job, so the amount he can budge is limited.

If the team negotiates, Talon will speak in Salish to a leather pouch softly and pour a handful of sand from the pouch into his hand.  Smearing it on the table, numbers will appear in the sand to show the new sum that is being offered (runners that assense the sand see that it is some form of spiritual fetish, but its nature is nothing they’ve seen before).

If the runners take the job, Talon provides the team with a commcode and requests one of theirs in case he needs to reach them.  He gives them an address in Bellingham to deliver the cargo to when the job is complete.  The man they are meeting is Neil Browning.

Prince George is 700km north of Seattle, plus across a national border, so the drive will take them upwards of 7 hours to complete, assuming they stick to speed limits.  Feel free to introduce complications along the way (go-gangers, police doing alcohol checks, etc), especially if they are driving recklessly.

What remains of Tsimshian is a broken plot of land that has been stripped bare by neglect and corporate mismanagement.  Large hillsides once covered in old growth trees have been stripped bare and tunnels criss-cross the mantle from extensive mining.  Disgruntled Tsimshian and Haida Americans cling to what remains of their homesteads to try and wring some form of life from the abused Earth.  The Salish has been trying rejuvenation efforts and is making slow progress.

Once alive with parks and hotels, the city of Prince George has been reduced to a grey cityscape with few tourist attractions remaining and railyards to ferry supplies into the city to keep the city alive.  On the east side of the city is the Prince George Airport.  It certainly wouldn’t be accepting any suborbitals, but it was large enough to accept smaller commercial planes and several private jets at any given time.  That being said, there was so little traffic flying into Tsimshian, the airfield had fallen into a certain degree of disrepair.

The airport is running with a skeleton crew, but some of their lack of numbers has been made up by Evo security, who volunteered their services.  Being shorthanded, the airport agreed, but naturally Evo has an ulterior motive.  They want what Browning is carrying (seeing as he had it stolen from them in the first place) and have positioned themselves to apprehend him at their convenience.  If the runner tip off that they’re here to pick up Browning, Evo will move against them, subtly at first, but overtly if needed.  If Evo decides to reveal their presence and gunfire erupts the runners will have to be careful not to gun down innocent civilians, as there are cameras everywhere in the airport and someone somewhere will catch sight of them…

After a while it is apparent that Neil’s flight is delayed and soon after the original arrival time lapses, the Evo members of the airport security get an encrypted call telling them that they’re being redeployed.  Minutes after Evo pulls out, Talon calls the runners.

“OK, we’ve got a crisis on our hands and my employer is willing to pay triple to make sure you get the job done.  Neil Browning’s plane suffered engine failure and crashed just outside of Tsimshian, in the Athabaskan Council lands.  There’s an area called the Chinchaga Wildlands.  It’s an old wildlife refuge…that’s where the plane came down.  Your priority is no longer Neil Browning, since the guy’s likely dead, but the case he was escorting.  It was made of pretty durable stuff and likely survived the crash.  You’re looking for a reinforced metal case, black with chrome and an AresSpace logo on the side.  Get to it before anyone else does, or that case is as good as gone.”

The crash site is another three hours drive Northeast from Prince George (and if the runners are fast enough, they can catch Evo’s team and get rid of them before they arrive).  The Athabaskan border is lightly patrolled, but guards will take note of anyone suspicious and record their vehicle’s credentials.

Chinchaga is forested and dotted with wetlands.  The pilot had tried to keep the nose of the plane up, but caught a tree on the way in and the forest took the plane apart as it slammed down.  The wreckage is spread out over half a kilometre, dotted around trees and through a spongy swamp.  Flaming pieces of wreckage are everywhere and emergency crews are containing the flames so they don’t spread and compound the problems.

Between soldiers, emergency workers and volunteers there are people all over the site and the runners will need to sneak around to find the thing they need.  The case is inside a piece of the fuselage, toward the forward edge of the swamp.  Evo has representatives here, also looking for the case.  If the runners can secure the case and get back to Bellingham to deliver it, they are free to renegotiate their payment, seeing about the unforeseen circumstances and the issues getting the case back.

>> Babysitting some corporate stooge?  Sounds like some easy cash.
>> Fade

>> Scratch beyond the surface, my friend.  This corporate nobody is a wanted man for contracting the theft of some state-of-the-art goodies.  My sources won’t reveal who he stole them from, but he’s got some people with deep pockets and itchy trigger fingers looking for him.
>> CashMoney

>> Word is one of Evo or Ares.
>> Judge

>> Or both.  Have fun, kiddies.
>> Wraith

~ by 1nsomniac on March 3, 2011.

2 Responses to “Disaster Zone”

  1. >> I guess they wouldn’t go out of their way and hire runners just for a case of candies. Even really tasty ones.
    >> Sweeper

    • >> Tasty enough for someone, if they’re willing to geek this nobody to get them back.
      >> Havik

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