No Strings on Me

Understood. Please provide any schematics you have. If not, no big, we get. I take it you are concerned only with them contacting Arasaka outside of the train? We can do as we wish with Arasaka on train, and with train itself?

Mr. Brett casually raps against the roof of the car to get both Flesher and Spacer's attentions. He then positions his right hand in a way that both of his commrades can see yet his thumb is concealed by his other fingers.

Using precise hand positioning, he aligns the thumb of his left hand with the fingers of his right hand, making it appear as if his left thumb is actually part of the right hand.

By cleverly manipulating the angles and movements of his hands, he then creates the illusion of removing his own thumb, leaving both ladies bewildered by the seemingly impossible feat.

The intrepid solo allows no smile to grace his face and betray the simple nature of his trick. He nods solemnly to affirm their suspicions.

"It's magic."

Sergei takes the phone, nods once, and turns around. Without saying anything additional to their new fixer, he walks back to the car.

Once inside the car he speaks to the team.

Stealth infiltration. We will need to cut comms from the train. Decker, that’s where you come in. I hope you know what you’re doing. Or our goose is dinner. Understand?

Spacer shrugs. "It's what I do. It's what I am. Speed in the net, in and out. So long as the magician here doesn't get us ganked." Despite the danger ahead, she seems rather unconcerned. And not in a healthy way.

Mr. Brett laughs awkwardly and looks at Spacer, then at Sergei, and then back at Spacer. He waves his hand at the ground

"Hehe.... naaahh."

He then gets back in the car and buckles his seat belt.

Back at the hang out, Sergei shares his thoughts on a plan.

Spacer, we need you to find blueprints of train. Especially of ventilation system. Here’s plan: we land on train. Spacer kills outgoing comms. We gas train through vent system. Open hatch and clean up. Hook up target and extract. Easy peasy.

Sergei looks around at the team.

That means we’ll need gas. Maybe something nasty. I have filter. Brett has mask. If you don’t have, get. We need explosives to derail train when done. Help cover tracks.

Sergei decided to give his old neo-Soviet buddy, Boris the Blade an encrypted call (with his location spoofed). In truth Sergei knew his real name wasn’t Boris, and that he had lifted it from the old Guy Ritchie flick, but in these crazy times sometimes it made sense to keep your real name close. Sergei never really gave a shit himself.

Boris. Is Sergei. I need novichok or the best you have. Today. Will pay good money.

Bylat, you old son of a bitch!

Sergei chuckles.

We have big job. You have best supply. I’ll shake hands and kiss babies after I get paid. So what do you have?

Does this come with PPE? Suits and the such?

How about a couple of doses of atropine? Four if you have. At least two.

Sergei speaks to the others.

This not charity. We all split cost. Are you in? I will have delivered.

Flesher nearly nodded out in the way back to Spacer’s place, but she snapped to attention when Serj mentioned money.
Choom, you are way too chromed out to be playing us right now, so of course everyone is pitching in. Even the new broad. We in this now.

Brett smiles at Sergei and pats himself down searching for money.

"Hear that, Red? Flesher digs your chrome! Makes it all worth it."

He winks at Flesher and produces a wad of cash from a velvet coin purse with a little embroidered cat chasing a ball of yarn on the side, then packs it hard into Sergei's palm.

"For the cause." he says in a heavy but refined southern accent.