New Beginnings

Miami, Caribbean League, 2080

Rain beats incessantly on the windows of the place you call home for what seems like the tenth day in a row. The rain would be welcome if it didn't make the unbearable humidity even worse. Unlike the weather, work - real work - has dried up lately. You make a pretty penny when you can pull down a solid job but a couple of weeks between jobs leaves the belly a little more empty than it would like. Soycaf and whatever combination of soy, krill, and fungus-based foods made to taste vaguely similar to real food can only go so far. You've put out feelers to your contacts in the shadows hoping to get something good soon.

Through the noise of the trid news endlessly praising SpinGlobal's investment in the Miami area and all of the good it will do for the people, you hear a notification from your commlink. Checking your burner you see a message from an unknown number. It seems your contacts pulled through on getting you a job.

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From: Unknown
Six Storms Bar 23:00
Ask for Shiden
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The Six Storms Bar is both a well-known runner bar in the shadow community as well as a tourist hotspot for those who want to feel hard without actually putting their lives in danger. The bar's location in Wynwood on the border of both Little Haiti and the Belle Meade Erosion Zone makes it safe enough for corp drones to frequent while still being within spitting distance of getting shot for making the wrong comment. You get a second message on your main comm from your contact letting you know that you should be getting a message soon with a new job. Apparently, you should be at least mildly familiar with the crew being put together.

The news feed on the trid continued on in the background, "From all of us here at News Net Miami, have a good night." The clock reads 7 PM. Only a couple of hours until the meet.

Vato woke up nursing a hangover. Those Little Haiti Rum and Mescal cocktails could be deadlier than a pack of ghouls. He smiled when he saw there was the possibility of a job. He was dead ass broke. He liked his new digs. A single room but a big room, fully furnished in decent enough furniture. It used to be the principle's office of Gladeview's Arcola Lake elementary school. Right next to the buzz of Little Haiti but real quiet. The devil rats, ghouls and other unsavoury environmental hazards were what kept most others out. As far as he was concerned it was luxury. School communal showers, the life man. He paid rent to the Cienfuegos who he was on excellent terms with given their shared Cuban heritage and the other residents living in the former school were respectful and friendly as part of his discount with the Cienfuegos came from janitorial duties. He didn't repair or clean stuff tough but he would kill devil rats ghouls, hell hounds and put them in the garbish container. The Cienfuegos figured if he kept it up at worst they could ask more rent to the other residents for being "safe" within a Z zone (as if there was such a thing) and if he kept it up the area would better, raising property values. Vato figured it was a long stretch until that happened but he could enjoy the relative comfort of living beyond his means in the meanwhile.

He walked dressed in a towel towards the showers using a shuriken to kill a devil rat on the way there and twice on the way back... Slow night, maybe they are spreading thinner he thought. Once dressed he got some spicy burritos from his neighbour Angela, she somehow even with simplest of soy and flavor faucets managed to make things taste proper Cuban. He lingered a while playing some matrix games with her son and then hit the road. It was early but it wouldnt hurt to get a feel for the place before he met their prospective employer.

On the street running in the rain and humidity, Eddy almost missed the buzz of his comm. Only after his regular 'link chirped up and got his attention did he scan the message on the burner.

Nice, got work lined up. Bout time. he thought as he slowed to a light jog and moved under an awning. Grabbing a couple of soykafs and some pan cubano with butter, he smiled as he started heading back home.

"Sis, get your butt outta bed and check your work 'link. We got a job lined up tonight."

Eddy drops Jinx a voice message then continues back to the apartment they share, allowing his respirations and heart rate to drop back to normal.

Bright, mismatching lights and handmade cardboard reflectors line the tiny egg carton covered box that comprises the makeshift studio that’s been set up in the living room of a cramped one bedroom apartment where Daniel sits, recording another trideo. Seeing his comlink flash he cuts the session short.

Seeing the message Daniel weighs his options for a second before getting ready. Twenty minutes later Daniel exists into the street wearing a cheap dollar store parka over a well worn coat, pulling the hood close Daniel goes trudging off into the night towards the meet.

The Six Storms Bar, a hive of activity every day of the week with a mix of tourists, wannabe runners, and bonafide denizens of the shadows, today is like any other. When you arrive area is bustling with patrons and parking anything bigger than a motorcycle could be considered it’s own run, just without the pay. Neighboring Belle Meade and Little Haiti are relatively quiet tonight, only a handful of gun shots can be heard on your way in. The excited chatter of the tourists and loud boasting of the wannabes set them apart immediately. Those who live in the shadows remark on it as one would the weather, if at all.

While the Wynwood district is fairly secure, the cops are too busy looking for gang bangers or vagrants than for armed citizens who at least appear to pay their taxes. Some touristy clothes are more than enough to avoid questions about the Ruger Super Warhawk on your hip.

As you enter the bar there’s hardly room at the counter with the number of customers ordering drinks. Some groups sit off quietly in corners while others party it up like there’s no tomorrow. A tall, lithe young woman moves rapidly behind the bar taking orders and serving drinks with surprising speed and accuracy. As you approach the bar she looks you dead in the eyes expectantly while pouring another drink.

Eddy rocks up to the bar on foot, having parked around the corner and stashing his bigger gear in the trunk. Double locking the Americar, he checks his Glock and knife are adequately concealed under the leather jacket before strolling around to the front. Breezing through the crowd up to the bar is easier said then done, but once there he scans for familiar faces before ordering.

"Gimme 2 Soyweisers and put in for a big basket of wings & fries please. And I'm supposed to meet a Shiden here, mind telling me where to go?"

He slides an extra ¥50 via the AR tip window and turns back to scan the room.

{Sis. I'm here, where you at?}

Wearing a synthleather armored jacket, with bulked up "motorcycle" pads over his limbs and a closed face helm under his arm, he blends into a sea of local biker scum without much issue.

Vato navigates his trollhammer in the parking lot expertly and walks in. The Minotaur has made no effort to blend in with acceptable street chique. His reinforced trench coat and dirty rugged leather pants and armor accessoires skirt and probably exceed what is sociably acceptable. However he seems good natured enough and invites the bouncers to scan him with. He is obviously clear of weapons. It seems enough to let him in. He keeps clear of the tourists and he gives a nod of recognition to runners and fixers he knows but any wannabe that wants to prove himself as a tough guy by bumping into the troll or make snark trog remark receives a staredown.

He goes to the bar and orders a White Russian based of double soykaf espresso. "I don't care about the quality of the milk substitute or of the vodka as long as it doesn't make me blind, but put in a shot of rum. I am sweet tooth like that. the real unlicenced Cuban stuff not the generic tourist trap crap. It takes my edge off." He exhales sharply through the nose which jilts the little bell the minotaur has in his nose piercing. His tip is generous enough.

Rook, with his coat still dripping rain water onto the floor, eyes the immense figure to sit down next to him at the bar. It's not often that you see a minotaur in these parts. It's not often you see one anywhere. Rook finishes off his drink, whatever the cheapest whiskey they have is, looks to the bartender, and says "Another of these, and remember to put it on Shiden's tab. He's paying."

He then turns towards the massive figure beside him, and says: "Hi friend, you know, I've always been curious... Is it true that the color red makes you folk angry?"

"Nah the only kind of red that bothers me is bank statements at this time of the month in that colour. I am hardly alone on that. Must be one of those urban myths I am afraid. I also have nothing with mazes. 3 out of 4 of my grandparents have Greek ancestry, that one seems too much to be a coincidence eh.

Name is Vato. He is the best type of friend that Shiden. Generous. He is buying me this White Russian".

"Damn rain. I get phantom pains of arthritis in this metal arm. Yep, I know it doesn't make sense. Either it's in my head or it's faulty wiring. The Doc pointed to the wall when I told him. All caps big enough for a blind person to see, in fact it was there in braille as well "NO REFUNDS"

Vato grins and extends his massive cyberarm to the stranger, he has given up closing his metal fingers in an actual handshake with the cyberarm a while ago and let them grab his fingers or palm.

Eddy hears Vato talking (kinda hard to miss the bass rumble if a minotaur's voice) and elbows his way over to the big man.

"Hoy! Omae, I hear you're looking to talk with Shiden? Zas vid, chummer, they bring you on and I might be looking for new work. Can't really call myself the muscle if you're big chromed hoop is on the job."

Via his trodes, Eddy pings his location to Jinx's link, expecting his sibling to keep an eye on his back as he watches hers.

{Vato's here. Might be on the same meet. You know the human in the throwaway trench coat? Don't scan his face from memory }

Eddy slides one of the Soyweisers into Vato's massive hand and resumes scanning the room for familiar (or hostile) faces.

"Good news hombre. If I am the muscle of the operation, it means you have been upgraded to brain, I bet you didn't see that one coming"

He offers a wide grin to Eddy and then swigs down the Soyweiser in one go and then takes a measured sip of his White Russian.

"Well with the three of us together, he or she would be a fool to wait much longer to approach us, I always seem to attract attention whether I want to or not, it's why I give all these wannabees death stares, if they think for a moment that they can take I am challenged in some way, it's tiring, stupid and a waste of time".

"Null sheen, omae. If they're looking for me for brains, we're fragged before we get out the gate. Good thing the little thinker is kicking around, she's got the head on her shoulders."

Eddy smiles at Vato and the new face Rook, tipping his bottle in a salute.

"Got some wings and fries on order, ya scan our meet yet? Any Intel on the J or the job at all?"

"Less then nothing, but a Johnson that hires the future Miami-Dade regional tag team champions ? ... This can't be all about your brains and my sex appeal, I reckon. Somebody is expecting the going to get tough"

Stepping inside Daniel peels off the clear parka, balling it up and throwing the soggy mass into the trash. As he enters the crowded room it’s almost as if a switch is flipped. Moving through the room he begins schmoozing with the regulars, introducing himself to the tourists, and just greeting everyone with a smile.

Once he’s done his rounds he’ll begin looking for the Johnson offering the job.