Chapter 1 SNAFU - Situation Normal All Fragged Up

At first unsure how to respond, once the girl attacks Huginn Wyvern's choice is clear. She draws her Ares, moves to get a clear shot, and fires.

Greer frowns, the girl is moving far too fast.

He draws his taser, looks down the sight while holding his breath, and pulls the trigger. The taser burps with a low electrical drone as a buzzing prong shoots out towards the girl.

Greer watches the cloud of mist vanish down the alley before turning towards the group with a somber look on his face, "That's no druggie, she moved too fast."

As he says that, Greer reloads his taser and tucks it somewhere deep within the recesses of his jacket. As he pulls his hand out, Greer holds much more dangerous looking pistol.

Huginn looks down at the halfsmoked deepweed blunt in his hand, then up at Wyvern and Greer. The look on his face is one of priceless bewilderment, and if it wasn't for all the drawn weapons he'd have been convinced the whole thing was a hallucination. He quickly looked about, ensuring the mist was truly gone, then turned to the others:

"Allrightie then... whadda ya say we get the fuck on with this then..."

He led them through alleyways, back lots and into an abandoned factory. After climbing an old fire escape, squeezing through a window, walking a tightrope across an old steel I-beam sixty feet over a concrete floor - they finally descend down into the bowels of this dilapidated building until they find a large steel door with boldface print across it reading "BOMB SHELTER." Huginn ushers them through the door, and as it closes behind them a loud crunching clank echoes on and on throughout the concrete catacomb. Built over a century ago, this relic from an age long gone was the closest thing Huginn had to a home.

Huginn made a bee-line straight for his Katana - and with the sword in his grasp he felt safe for the first time all night. He looped the sword onto his belt, then scrounged up a couple cans of beer from a shopping bag in the corner. He offered the cans to the others, as he cracked one for himself and sat on the foam mat that was obviously his bed. Taking a long deep drink, he fished out the half blunt from earlier and torched it, looking up at the crew as he took a big hit. His exhaled a fragrant cloud of Caribbean deepweed and addressed them both:

"So... what's next?"

Wyvern declines the beer and finds somewhere to sit. She reboots her deck as she answers, "We sit tight 'til morning. Deliver the package. Get paid."

"Well who the hell's after ya anyway's, Dragon? You two look spooked, and that was before we ran into that psycho fanger on the way here. If I've got your back, I at least deserve to know what I'm up against." With that Huginn guzzled the last of the beer, smashed the can between his hands, and threw it into the darkness. Then he cracked the one he had offered to Wyvern, took a big drink, and leaned back waiting for the reply.

Greer shrugs, "There were competing runners, that's all. They were after this."

Upon finishing the sentence, Greer pulls out the white briefcase and places it on the table. He examines the surface for any blemishes or signs of tracking devices.

Wyvern resets the settings on her deck, then does her own search on the package in the matrix, looking for marks or transmitting icons.

Greer scans Huginn's bolthole with a poker face while making mental notes.

"If we stay here, we need a plan if attacked. What kind of firepower are we working with? How many entrances?" says Greer as he gingerly places the white box onto the table.

"If we get hit by another runner group like the last, we need to be prepared. We need traps or an escape plan.," murmurs Greer, deep in thought, as he assesses the room for tactical possibilities.

"Ok, team. I see a few different approaches to assaulting us. Knight Errant would typically do [things Knight Errant do here], gangers prefer brute force - straight through that door there. Worst case, if we pissed off a corp enough, we can be facing something like Red Samurai. Twenty years ago, their M.O. was...." instructs Greer, as he tries to capture all scenarios the group can be assaulted.

Wyvern marvels at the mysterious box a moment before turning to her companions and saying, "Assuming we weren't followed, the hard part is going to be getting from here to the meet, I think."

Greer takes another look around Huginn's apartment and then cracks into a small grin.

"Dropoff should be easy. People are looking for a team of six, but there's only three of us. Add in a little disguise and we can just walk straight in.," says Greer out loud to the group. He ruffles around in his bag and pulls out a set of unobtrusive street clothing.

"I might be a geezer, but I keep up with style. How else do you blend in?," mutters Greer to himself as he begins sizing up Wyvern and Huginn for disguises.

Greer looks at his handiwork after stepping away from Huginn and Wyvern.

Greer himself looks like a different person. Gone is the starched shirt and well-ironed suit. Scrumpled sleeves are rolled up, displaying a line of ugly-looking tattoos (fake) up both his forearms.

"Let's wait until a few hours before meetup time to head out? Meetup area should be safe, but we need to keep eyes open during transit.," says Greer.