Clusterfrag

Taipan settles down at the bar, absorbing the opulence of the place. He had on a few occasions had the opportunity to visit similarly luxurious settings in the past, but never with enough time to admire them, and with weapons in hand in place of libations.

Taipan gestures to the taps at the end of the bar. "Light beer. You mentioned the triple-A's. Whose support does Saito enjoy, and what are they getting out of it?"

Tex pours Taipan a beer from one of the taps behind the bar. "I know for certain Renraku and Shiawase. There're rumors that Mitsuhama threw in, too. Unofficial support, a'course. Openly supportin' a tyrannical regime would make for some mighty poor optics. But it's there, if'n you look: money changin' hands, prototype gear showin' up, folk in places they shouldn't be." He slides the beer glass over to Taipan. "I reckon Saito promised 'em contract exclusivity or monopolies. Maybe tax havens? Don't rightly know for certain."

The team's gregarious host takes a slug of whisky. "I reckon that backing'll last 'bout as long as a fart in a storm now that Saito's on the back foot. His only real ally is Humanis, and they ain't cut out for the world of shit that's comin'. Whole damn state is takin' to the streets. Them cowards'll flee like the rat fucks they are."

Mouse might not have much experience with meat space interactions, but she's become quite accustomed to that look: a particular expression straddling pity and endearment by someone who's pegged her as a non-threat. Regardless of her distaste for it, she knows better than to fight that impulse, to demand to be seen as an actual professional, or at least a grown ass woman. In situations like this, she may as well take advantage of her resting moeblob-face... and the knowledge that of all of them, she's the least likely to be accused of eyeing the valuable tech.

She casts her gaze downward with a bashful smile as she's presented with the shotglass, brimming with, by her estimation, a full two weeks of living expenses. "FASCINATING CHOICE, AND AN INCREDIBLY KIND GESTURE. WE’LL MAKE SURE TO DO RIGHT BY IVAN, THEN." She gives it a sniff before tipping it back, letting the heat and the flavors wash over her, wondering all the while what's being wasted on her untrained palate.

The gentle heat settles in her chest and cheekbones as the talk turns to business. “SO, NOT MCT PROPER, BUT WE SHOULD EXPECT GOKUDO GENTLEMEN, ALL COINCIDENTALLY OUTFITTED IN THE LATEST MITSUHAMA KIT.” Her ears perk up at the mention of prototypes, “CURIOUS HOW PROPRIETARY TECH ALWAYS MANAGES TO END UP SO FAR FROM HOME. YOU’D THINK MEGAS WOULD BE MORE INVESTED IN PROTECTING THEIR R&D.”

Anne-Marie turns to Mouse. "You're not thinking like the Corporations. What better way to test your product than in a bonafide war zone? Leave it to those bloodless assholes to turn an occupation into an experiment. The best focus group is the one living and dying by your product. Macabre, isn't it?"

The portal to the room hisses as it opens. One of the nameless security drones sticks his head over the threshold. "A Mr. Bayat to see you, boss."

Tex nods. "Thank you, Javier. Send 'em on in."

The security guard vanishes and a moment later a new guest enters the room.

Zal Bayat is a half-ork of standard height. He sports a warrior's build: long arms, broad shoulders and a barrel chest. The freedom fighter is adorned in a battle-worn Duffle coat over an armored vest, BDU slacks and jungle boots. A faded Mexican shawl is draped over one shoulder. A lightning bolt of a scar runs from his buzz-cut hairline, past a milky right eye to the end of his chin. His considerable forearms are covered in tattoos. Zal radiates austerity, carrying himself with a killer's grace. His countenance seems perpetually locked in a state of defiant anger.

"Zal," Tex says, spreading his arms. "Good t'see ya, partner."

"General," Zal replies simply, nodding respectfully. After the formality his gaze moves from Tex to the team members. It doesn't take him long to make an assessment, it seems. The brooding expression on his face darkens even further. "Mercenaries," he says. It's both a statement and a question. There's no attempt to disguise equal parts incredulity and disappointment.

A flash of irritation mars the genial quality of Tex's features; but whether it's pure charisma or self-control, it disappears just as quickly. "Friends," Tex corrects. "Friends of Ivan's, so friends of mine." Tex glances at the team. "Capable friends who crossed the border to help us. To help you."

This reassurance doesn't seem to assuage Zal's chagrin, but the freedom fighter nods nonetheless. "Right."

Tex clears his throat. "Folks, this here's Zal Bayat-- commander of the central chapter of the Golden Army. He reckons he has a potential solution to our little sitchy-ation."

Mick is all mixed emotions and top-most shelf tequila. They feel an instant kinship of sorts with Zal, being both a fellow ork and clearly indisposed to bulldrek. That said, his clear dislike of the group instantly puts the ork back several steps, and Mick finds themself longing for the easy companionship of the coyote. Taking another slug of Mezcal, Mick asks, "Yeah? What might that be?"

Reiya strains to keep her mask of bored disdain as they travel through the house. She’s amazed by everything; that is, until they reach the Sequoia. It’s gorgeous, but the idea of such of a magnificent being trapped within a tech-infused house, however grand, strikes her as cruelty manifest. Mick, catching her eye with a knowing look, portrays a similar indignation, and when Reiya feels Yung reach out for it astrally, she knows he shares it, too. Her own anger is only partially slaked when “Tex” expresses a certain reverence and tender care for the tree, but she knows he could have cut it down, and didn’t. That says something positive about this self-proclaimed cowboy within his own cultural context, she imagines. Not in hers; any Blackfoot, however flush with money, would have picked a different spot on which to build.

Sitting next to Mouse at the bar, Reiya nods and tips a glass for the bourbon, and though a little sweet for her palette, it’s smooth as glass. Reiya savors it, knowing without being told the price that she will never be able to indulge in such high-quality stuff again, save perhaps the occasional wealthy contact like Tex.

When Zal enters, the shaman’s hackles immediately rise at his palpable anger, distrust, and ruthlessness. At the same time, they are finally going to hear what the mission they’ve traveled all the way here for actually is. Should they choose to accept it, Reiya reminds herself. Theoretically, they can pull back. Practically, Reiya thinks it’s beyond unlikely they’ll do so, and looking from Zal to Tex to Anne-Marie, doubts they even could.

Yung slides the empty glass away, nodding to Tex in thanks for sharing such a fine vintage. He stands from his seat to face Zal, nodding his head slightly in a form of greeting. “We’re not here to get in the way and we don’t want to make your life more difficult, we’re professionals and want to see to the mission.”

Yung clasps his hands behind his back, as he begins walking slowly around the sycamore. “We have a variety of skill sets among us.” He removes a hand from behind his back and levies it palm upward though making an offering, “Axel is an expert wheelman and rigger, he can provide surveillance, situational awareness, and support.”

He moves his hand slightly in the direction of Mouse, “Mouse, our decker, can run interference on enemy communications, create wireless disturbances, and override security countermeasures.”

He returns his hands to the position behind his back as he rounds the sycamore, “Mick, who is eager to hear the details of your plan, is an infiltration specialist and possesses elite hand to hand combat skills.”

He turns his head toward Thoryne, nodding slightly “Thornye, is a first rate explosives specialist and heavy weapons virtuoso.”

“Reiya, is a shaman of great prowess who provides unique utility to our repertoire.” He makes no gesture towards Reiya, seemingly under the assumption that Zal will intuit who he is referring to by the description.

“I am Akela, I facilitate social situations,” He smirks, thinking of the recent interaction, “and on-site ops mobility.”

With only one member remaining, he again makes no discernable gesture towards Taipan, “Taipan is our group tactician and op-site leader, he is most capable with the katana and assault weapons.”


Yung takes a calculated breath, approaching Zal before stopping a few feet away. “That should provide you enough information about our capabilities to determine whether we offer the necessary skills to undertake your operation. We accepted this job from Ivan without bartering, we recognize the importance of Achak to his operations. I hope you understand.” The last statement lingers in the air for a moment, the inference might be lost, but unlikely given Zal’s prejudice.

Zal stands quietly while Yung makes introductions. The overtures don't seem to relieve him any but neither does he seem any more apprehensive than he was. "We have a common goal," he says.

Tex takes a slug of whisky and nods. "Let 'em hear it."

Zal clasps his hands behind his back and addresses the team. "We both have the same problem: someone important to us has been captured by the Kuroikaze and taken to one of Saito's black sites. In this case, black site D on Alcatraz. It's an infamous detention center and under normal circumstances attempting a raid would be futile. Fortunately for us, recently Saito has had to re-deploy the bulk of his troops. There are riots happening state-wide and he has had to commit nearly his entire force to quell them. Additionally I've heard rumors of an outbreak of a flu-like virus among his men. What this means is that black site D is being run by a skeleton crew-- the bare minimum number of men required to operate the facility."

"This may seem to be too good to be true, because it is. There's a QRF garrison just across the water. If the alarm at the black site goes up, a battalion will mobilize to respond. Under normal circumstances, it should take the QRF no less than ten minutes to make landfall on Alcatraz. It goes without saying that stealth will be paramount."

"The General and I have drafted a rough OPLAN for the extraction of prisoners. Once on the island, I would take my squad to the communications bunker to sever the satellite uplink. Meanwhile, you all will secure the detention blocks and locate the prisoners to be extracted. After we cut the uplink, we'll signal you and you terminate any opposition and extract the prisoners, then rendezvous back at a to be determined extraction point."

Zal looks at Tex. "I don't have enough available men to accomplish both tasks, but with additional manpower, success is a lot more likely."

"I also have some contacts in San Francisco," Zal says. "Should the alarm be raised, I can have them create a diversion in an attempt to thin out or slow down the QRF. Let's hope it isn't necessary."

Tex grunts. "Then there's the rub..."

Zal nods. "As I said: it's a rough plan. The biggest obstacle is the initial approach to the island. While the black site is under-manned, the island's defenses are automated. We'd need to find a way to bypass them or manipulate them into shutting them down without raising enough suspicion to warrant the alarm being raised. I believe Anne-Marie had an idea?"

Anne-Marie sets down her bottle. "It's an old pirate trick: commandeer a commercial vessel and then head toward the island, claiming that the ship has sustained damage and is in danger of sinking. You'd need to quietly deal with anyone that came to investigate, but if the black site is indeed under-staffed, it should be possible."

"Or we could hijack one of Saito's ships and go to the island under guise of reinforcements. The automated defenses should have a registry of Imperial vessels," Zal offers.

"That's the plan-- or what we have of it so far," Zal says, turning to the team. "It's not without risk, but if we can avoid triggering the alarm until I can sever the uplink, the odds are in our favor."

As Zal outlines the options before them, rapid-fire notes stream into a window in the periphery of Mouse’s vision. (She just so happens to place said window directly over Anne Marie's face, effectively obfuscating the bodyguard from her sight. Warranted or not, all the fears and questions Mouse has regarding her affiliations are nothing more than a massive distraction to the task at hand- one which she can't afford right now.)

Despite the lingering rosiness in the decker’s cheeks, her demeanor undergoes an immediate shift, social reticence replaced with analytical intensity. “WAKARIMASHITA. AT LEAST FROM THESE PARAMETERS, THE NEED FOR A PRECISION STRIKE IS ABUNDANTLY CLEAR.” She pauses briefly, flicking a hand as she adjusts her notes within her own field of view, in a digital facsimile of someone shuffling their paperwork. “WHAT KIND OF INTEL DO YOU HAVE ON THE FACILITY ITSELF?”

She pauses, lacing her fingers as she reviews the information with which she’s just been presented. “WE ALSO NEED TO TALK ABOUT ATTRIBUTION, AND WHETHER YOU NEED US TO OBFUSCATE THE TARGETS OF THE EXTRACTION.” Even modulated by the synthetic tones, there’s a noticeable change in her tone as she mentally dissects the CONOP. No longer is she speaking with her casual air of a netnerd, peppering her commentary with dirty jokes and obscure references, but with a less familiar vocabulary that straddles the line between security professional and spook.

“AFTER ALL, ASSUMING WE’RE SUCCESSFUL, SAITO’S GOING TO KNOW THE SITE’S BEEN HIT, AND WHICH PRISONERS HAVE BEEN REMOVED.” She glances between the other members of her team, the elaboration being more for their benefit than the General’s. “FROM THAT, THEY COULD DRAW CONCLUSIONS ABOUT THE GOLDEN ARMY'S PRIORITIES AND CAPABILITIES.”

Her attention returns to Zal, thoughtfully tapping a finger against her knuckles as she continues. “HOW WE CONDUCT THIS OPERATION WILL THUS GIVE YOUR ARMY OPPORTUNITIES FOR FURTHER EXPLOITATION, WHETHER YOU’RE USING IT FOR MESSAGING OR DISINFORMATION. SO, DO WE WANT TO MAKE CLEAR WHO’S HITTING THEM AND WHY? OR DO YOU NEED DENIABILITY?”

Zal remains stoic and silent as Mouse launches the barrage of questions. He blinks, clearly surprised by the aptitude she has with the concepts and vernacular. He glances sidelong at Tex who nods smugly, as if to say I told you so.

"On the contrary," Zal says. "We'd like them to know it was the Golden Army. Credit for raiding one of Saito's sites will help us garner more respect, probably even push those on the fence to enlist. Whether or not you'd like to keep your involvement quiet, I don't care. As long as it doesn't jeopardize the mission or make it more difficult. As long as you complete your objective, I'll be satisfied."

"We know quite a lot about the black site: satellite images, maintenance blueprints, and a good idea of troop strength and armament. We'd be happy to share it if you join the extraction. I should add that, though there are likely several prisoners that are affiliated with the movement, I'm only authorized to extract one individual. That's in addition to your friend. So you'll only need to extract two prisoners."

Mick cocks an eyebrow. "'Only need,' or must only?"

Axel looks up from his hunt behind the bar for umbrellas that match Tex's loud shirt. "They make a good point, bossman. It sounds like one possible exfil would be a big, brassy prison break. Disappear in the noise, you rez? And if some of those freed prisoners might also be Golden Army, and they might actually make it out of there, then all the merrier, yeah?"

Mick nods. "And even if they ain't Golden Army, all the more meatwads to piss of Saito and give him more fires to try to put out."

Zal shakes his head emphatically. "We haven't vetted those prisoners. While I'm certain there are a few affiliated with the Golden Army, there are almost certainly actual criminals being held there. I won't be a party to releasing rapists and murderers. Not only that, but with each body we free it exponentially complicates logistics: another person to watch, to protect, to slow us down. We might find ourselves stabbed in the back by an opportunistic ex-con. More people also require a larger vessel to escape, which is slower and easier to spot. No, this mission is already rife with risk. I'll not add to that risk by including unknown variables."

Tex folds his arms. "I'm inclined to agree with Zal. The priority here is ya'll's two comrades. Contendin' with Imperial troops and a whole herd'a potentially violent offenders crazier'n a coon cat in a shitter."

"Besides," Zal says. "Two missing prisoners might not warrant a pursuit vessel on our asses. More than that? We'd be pushing our luck. It's just a bad idea, all around."

"So it's not just a hole for political prisoners." Mick pauses to consider. "For infiltration options, you have any intel on their sewer and drainage systems? Or their aerial defenses?"

"Saito's black sites are places the regime takes undesirables to avoid due process. It started as part of a public relations campaign, back when he was actually trying to win hearts and minds. He promised to clean up the streets and he did, but what started as aggressive policing eventually became ethnic cleansing. First it was the actual criminals. When they got scarce, the profiling started. A couple years ago they dropped all pretense and started targeting meta-humans." Zal shakes his head.

"D is the oldest black site. If I had to guess, I'd say a majority of the detainees are hardened criminals. I'm not sure why they took your friend or mine there. Saito's chain of command is FUBAR. There are a lot of taishō acting autonomously. They may be fanatically loyal, but Saito himself is reclusive."

"There's no sewer system to speak of, it collapsed decades ago. While there might be a possible sub-aquatic insertion point, it would take too much time to recon and bringing people back through is out of the question. Any attempt at aerial insertion would immediately be spotted by satellite or surveillance drone."

"The only way this works is if we can get in and out without raising the alarm. Our approach vector has to be one that doesn't warrant it. That's why-- whatever we plan-- has to involve subterfuge. If we can at least make landfall, we can neutralize the uplink."

There’s a brief glimmer of optimism at the team’s proposal of a massive jailbreak: one which is summarily doused by Zal and Tex’s immediate objections in the face of operational risks. Even knowing the why of it, Mouse’s brow furrows as she tries not to think of the unfortunate metahuman saps who will inevitably be left behind… and silently puts a pin in the thought that they might somehow leave a backdoor open on their way out.

"SO WE DON’T KNOW WHY OUR TARGETS WERE THROWN IN WITH A GAGGLE OF HARDENED CONS, BUT WE DON’T SUSPECT THEIR DISAPPEARANCE WOULD CAUSE UNUSUAL CONCERN?” There's a brief beat as she tilts her head from side to side, as though physically weighing the implications, and how best to phrase her lingering concerns. “FROM WHAT YOU’RE WILLING TO SHARE, DO EITHER OF OUR TARGETS HAVE TRAITS OR CAPABILITIES THAT WOULD WARRANT SPECIALIZED HOLDING?” She picks up her empty shot glass, fidgeting with the delicate piece as she processes all of this. “FOR INSTANCE, ARE EITHER AWAKENED? ”

Zal glances at Mouse. "I can't speak to your friend, since I don't know them. Ours is not awakened, just a staff sergeant and a recon specialist." He looks thoughtful. "That said, one of the detention blocks is exclusively for awakened detainees. It's fully warded, from what I understand."

"While we do have substantial intel, we still don't know where either is being held. That's intel we'll have to retrieve on site.

For once, Yung sits patiently, waiting and listening before inserting himself into the conversation, “Seems to me that there are at least three potential critical failure points with this plan already. I have to agree with Zal here, there’s no reason to complicate things further by releasing additional captives, especially if we have no information about why they are being held.”

“As to the question about the awakened status of our target, could we not reach out to Ivan to gain clarity on the subject?” Yung looks to Tex after asking question. “That knowledge is critical to knowing whether we need to prepare to gain access to a warded area.”

“I also believe, now that we know the details of this mission, that it would be the appropriate time to discuss the cost associated with such a bold endeavor.” Yung deliberately avoids looking at Zal after making the statement, waiting instead for Tex to take the lead and provide some input.

Zal's expression sours at the mention of payment, but he says nothing.

"Not a bad idea there, Akeela," Tex says. "A.M., be a darlin' and let's conference in the Father."

Anne-Marie nods and withdraws a comm-link from a pocket. "I'll route it to the arboreum's speakers."

A few moments later, the stoic, grandiloquent tones of Preacher's voice ring out across the room. It's as if the fixer is in the room with them-- or rather, all around them. "My parishioners have arrived safely, then?"

"That they have," replies Tex. He goes on to relay the interoggative.

"Achak is gifted with spiritual talents," Preacher says. "He is a capable and fierce warrior as well. I am loathe to make assumptions, but if this black site employs guards against such, it stands to reason he would be sequestered there."

Tex clears his throat. "I reckon your parishioners also had some concern about res-ti-tution, old friend."

"As is said in Romans," Preacher intones, "Pay to all what is owed to them. As time is of the essence, I will entrust negotiations to you. We can address the details later."

"That's a big ten four, good buddy," says Tex. The affection he has for Preacher is obvious in his tone. He grins at Yung. "Well then, cowboy. Let's nee-go-tiate."

Yung lets out a huff through his nostrils in response to Tex’s solicitation. “I have to say, normally I love this part of the job, but you’re just too damn nice, partner.” Yung raises his arms, palms up, slowly spinning in a circle. “You’ve been a generous host, sharing the finest spirits, genuine insights, and despite all your opulence you’re the real deal.” He punctuates his statement with a hand pistol pointed at Tex, winking as he fires with a mock recoil.

“Still, where to even start with this? I mean, if I’m honest and want to throw Zal a bone, normally I would just walk away, take the Nuyen and run. But deep down, that’s a hogshit way of dealin’ with the situation.” Yung slowly walks over the bar next to Mouse, turns around and rests both elbows on the countertop. “So instead..” He stops abruptly, leans toward Mouse, and begins nodding.

“Our Mouse, she’s so clever. I mean, it’s clear we both need each other for this, if we couldn’t come to some sort of agreement, well…” He casts a glance towards Anne-Marie.“ Suffice to say, despite the comfort of our surroundings, the situation is uncomfortable.”

Yung looks at Taipan, then transfers his gaze to Mick. He can't help but feel a sense of contempt, which is nearly enough to unravel his persona. “Anyway, given Ivan’s previous rates and the special exceptions for the current undertaking, I believe it is not out of the question to discuss a sum in the nature of three fifty, with the possibility of an additional bonus should the assignment be completed with both captives retrieved successfully.”

(( Forgot Roll Negotiation ))

Tex rubs his chin and rocks on his heels. "Mmm, that's a mighty large sum, cowboy." He taps his fingers against his stubble as he deliberates. A few moments pass before he turns to look at Axel. "I reckon I've got a generous counter-offer, if your gear head amigo here is interested. Just so's happens I've got a brand new Lockheed DG eighty eight twelve gunship powerplant on order-- same's the kind I use in my racers. What say you to three hundred, twenty thousand nuyen and the powerplant? I'd say rescuing Ivan's man is a bonus in itself. Offer's contingent on the safe return of Zal's compatriot, of course."

Yung gathers that he's likely gotten as much from Tex as he will be able to.

Axel can't stop himself. "How the frag did you get a— Sorry, sorry," he says, chagrined at interrupting negotiations, and sticking his nose into business that's outside his wheelhouse. "That's not an easy find, omae. Hook one of those up to the Renraku arcology, and watch that thing start setting speed records." The lust is palpable on his face as his mind swims with images of the empty engine bay of the Roadmaster in his garage.

Mick glares at Yung, as if in a desperate attempt to impart their thoughts. 'I don't give a good god damn about what the rigger gets to walk away with. That ain't my cut.' Luckily, the adept has the good sense to keep it to themself in the situation.

For once.

Yung stops pacing upon the interruption from Axel. He purses and twists his lips, a look that is not very becoming. His gaze floats from Tex to Axel as he regains his momentum, changing course and heading toward the rigger. He approaches to a distance that can only be described as uncomfortably close, leaning down, his cheek nearly touches Axel’s.

He whispers in his ear, “Your cut omae?”

Mouse lets out a soft humming sound, eyeing Yung with an admittedly nervous, but trusting gaze, even as he name-drops her in the midst of negotiations. “ONCE AGAIN, YOU PROVE INCREDIBLY GENEROUS.” She looks up from her cup, lips curling gently into a demure smile at the mention of the gear.

In listing the engine, Tex may as well have offered a kid a puppy. It’s money out of her pocket (more accurately, the teams’ collective pockets,) but at the same time, there’s a strange, unfamiliar part of her that wants to see Axel happy. It doesn’t hurt that, at times, he seems to be the only other member of the team who speaks the same language as she does. It takes all of her willpower not to visibly bristle as Yung approaches him, to start piecemealing out how this would impact his share of the take.

What follows is a curious bout of code-switching, as Mouse finds herself having to tune her words to the competing expectations before her: to be intel-savvy but still sweet as pe-can pie. “I HOPE OUR TEAM CAN PROVIDE YOU A SERVICE THAT EXTENDS BEYOND THE RETRIEVAL OF YOUR SOLDIER.” She places the glass down before her, with the same care as one might a fine cup of tea, rather than an empty shot of bourbon.

“AFTER ALL, OUR INFILTRATION OF BLACK SITE D, HOWEVER BRIEF, WILL AFFORD US UNIQUE ACCESS TO WHAT, IN ANY OTHER CIRCUMSTANCE, WOULD BE THE HARDEST OF TARGETS.” She balances her attention between Tex and Zal as she slips once more into jargon. She closes her eyes briefly, breathing deep as she tries to channel the professional tones of her sensei, who taught her to value her stolen files not as ‘paydata’ to be fenced, but as intelligence, with immeasurable value and utility to the right audience. “DATA FROM THE SITE ITSELF WILL NO DOUBT BE INVALUABLE TO THE GOLDEN ARMY, WHETHER THROUGH INSIGHTS INTO SAITO’S MARCHING ORDERS, OR EVEN HUMINT HE’S GATHERED FROM HIS DETAINEES.”

She focuses on Zal now, as she dangles this collection in front of his nose like a steak before a hellhound, or an engine before a wheelman. “UPON COMPLETION OF OUR OBJECTIVES, ALLOW ME TO DEBRIEF OUR FINDINGS IN FULL, TO INCLUDE ANY INTEL COLLECTED ON SITE. BETWEEN THAT, THE RECOVERY OF YOUR ASSET, AND THE MORALE BOOST FROM A SUCCESSFUL PRISON BREAK, WE CAN BEST ENSURE THE GOLDEN ARMY’S FUTURE SUCCESS.”

“PERHAPS AT THAT TIME, WE CAN BETTER DISCUSS WHAT ADDITIONAL COMPENSATION IS APPROPRIATE… AS WELL AS THE FINER POINTS OF VEHICULAR TUNING.” Her smile is soft, gentle, even as a new line of text streams across her HUD, this time from Sun Tzu’s Art of War: ['Hence it is that which none in the whole army are more intimate relations to be maintained than with spies. None should be more liberally rewarded.']

(( Teamwork test for a bonus to Yung's negotiation roll? ))

Zal folds his arms. "Have you forgotten who will be infiltrating the communications bunker? Any intel I find, is mine. General, with all due respect: I understand hiring extra muscle, but--" He's silenced by an upheld hand from Tex.

"I 'preciate the offer, darlin', I do," Tex says. "Our main concern's gettin' our folks out, any dawdlin's likely to jeopardize that. So how 'bout a compromise? Ya'll scrub the data at the black site an' I'll add an additional ten thousand."

"That would help cover our tracks," Zal says, his resentment evaporating. "I want it known that it was GA that staged the rescue, but at the same time we need to escape unhindered."

Axel, usually happy being at the back of the room during any kind of intense negotiation, finds himself—however briefly—at the center of attention as Yung walks over to speak to him. "My... Cut," he says softly, as if tasting words from another language, and trying them on for size. His mind is a whirl of financial obligations and theoretical equipment purchases. He starts to stammer as his mind circles back around to the protection money owed to the Crimson Crush as "rent" at the end of the month, and then a cold certainty settles onto his mind, quieting his mental paroxysms. The sensation settles in his gut like ice and he almost doesn't recognize his own voice.

"My cut? Sure, if you're fine walking everywhere from here on out."

Tex observes the exchange between Yung and Axel with particular curiosity. He plants his hands on the bar. "The powerplant's a ges-ture, for friends of Ivan and for a fellow gear head. Consider it gratuity for helpin' us out. Won't factor into payment, none."

Lesson one: Don’t leave dickering to the decker.
Lesson two: Don’t turn your back on Yung for a fragging second.

Clearly chagrined from her relative lack of success, and keen to distract from the infighting taking place in front of Tex, Mouse speaks up. “A DATA SCRUB CAN CERTAINLY CAN BE ARRANGED.”

She forces her attention away from the mutterings of her squadmates to the deal at hand, “AND SUCH KINDNESS IS, OF COURSE, APPRECIATED. YOU’VE CERTAINLY GIVEN US MUCH TO CONSIDER.” She stops just short of accepting the terms on her team’s behalf. For one thing, it doesn’t feel as though it’s her place to do so. For another, everything about the job sounds like a deathtrap, and it's a bleak line of thought, trying to put a price on her own life.

At this, her gaze flits between Yung, as negotiator, and oddly enough, Taipan. From experience alone, the older “op-site leader” must surely have his own take on this: what such an op is worth, and what other details are surely missing from this equation.

Mick finishes another hearty gulp of Mezcal, the ornate bottle visibly emptier for having been handed to the ork. Alcatraz. "Well frag me. I'm in. I know there's more to hear, but ain't no way I'm comin' this far and goin' home without breaking into the most infamous prison in world." The adept shoots their gaze around the group, meeting the melange of expressions for only the briefest of seconds before settling their focus more firmly on Zal. "What can you tell me about their security system? In whatever greatest detail ya' got." The ork can't help but smile a drek-eating grin at the recognition that they've eagerly agreed to the job before asking after the details most relevant to their function on the team-- not to mention the likelihood that they'll walk out alive.

Brow furrowed, Taipan rolls the mostly full pint glass between his palms, staring into the pale yellow liquid as if it contains the answers to pulling this mission off, and how to bring everyone home safely. It offers nothing but a few wavering trails of CO2 issuing from the ornately etched nucleation sites on the bottom of the glass.

The conversation fades to the background once attentions turn to negotiation and payment. Though he should probably pay more attention given the new dynamics of his profession, he'd always been paid a salary and whatever hazard pay some corporate analyst deemed appropriate for the job. Instead, his mind turns over the intel on insertion options.

He nudges Thoryne without looking up from his beer. "What you think, sea legs? Commandeering a commercial vessel would involve less wet work up front -- civvies involved in most of those scenarios, though. Whether it's confining them while we make landfall or letting them go to blather about, either puts them or us, or both, in danger. Saito's ships would be harder targets, but could make for easier landfall without turning too many heads." He looks up at the troll. "I've done a few waterborne insertions, but you look like you might have some... unconventional experience to draw from."

(( If appropriate, roll Security Tactics to weigh relative risks. E.g., how would site security be likely to respond to a commercial mayday, what would an overnight watch on an Imperial patrol ship look like, etc. ))

Zal stares into space as he plumbs his memory. "We can expect recon drones, security cameras, infrared sensors, manned patrols, and some form of astral observation. As was mentioned previously, the detention block for high risk awakened detainees is fully warded. Fortunately for us, most of the black site's staff are civilian contractors. There will still be Kuroikaze troops there, but probably no more than two dozen."

Taipan knows that many commercial vessels forego protection contracts to save costs. It's not too far fetched that a floundering private sector ship might throw themselves at the mercy of the nearest military site. From his knowledge of Imperial troops, Taipan deduces that they're unlikely to fire upon civilians without first investigating them. In fact, if Saito's troops are functioning as the naval force in the area, it's probable that they would be a recipient of any mayday.

If Taipan were in charge of a patrol vessel, he'd leave at least two men on watch at all time. But, given the state of Saito's army, he can't say for certain whether reality would reflect that. Furthermore, the PAN's of any Imperial patrol boats would contain encrypted codes that would register them as friendly to automated defense systems.

It’s no use. Mouse’s eyes flutter shut briefly as struggles to crunch the numbers, weighing the staggering payout against an infinity of ways this could go sideways. It’s a familiar exercise by now, an endless cycle of catastrophizing in the name of self-preservation and ‘planning’. How will the team get to the island anyway? How many of these scenarios hinge on her ability to fake a distress call? She’s never even been on a boat.

It’s Mick’s declaration that cuts through the noise, and lights a fire under her hoop. Regardless of any role the tequila may have played in shaping the ork’s statements, it’s this exact sentiment, the challenge of cracking the impenetrable, that’s irresistible to the decker’s little skiddie heart. This isn’t another job stealing passwords and encrypting files for rent money. This is a legendary black site, run by a racist, facist regime that wants to see her dead, and either she’ll die in a torrent of dumpshock and gunfire… or for one fleeting, glorious moment, she’ll get to pwn it.

She forces herself to take note of Zal's observations, even as her vivid imagination spins dangerous fantasies. “STILL SUBSTANTIAL ODDS, EVEN WEAKENED,” Even voicing this aloud, her heart clearly isn't in it anymore, especially if the mischievous curl to her lips is any indication. She casts a nod toward Mick in a testament to their infectious enthusiasm. “BUT I WON'T TURN UP A CHANCE TO PERSONALLY HIT SAITO IN THE DICK." She tilts her head in what could otherwise be construed as a sweet smile, were it not paired with the roaring return of the decker’s characteristic bluntness. "COUNT ME IN, TOO."

Zal's expression is ambivalent. It's clear that the prospect of rescuing a comrade and scoring a blow against the regime are alluring to him, but he still hasn't warmed any to the team. Still, with Tex's favor on the line, the freedom fighter continues to remain civil and professional.

"I've hand-picked a squad for this engagement. It'll be myself and seven of my most trusted. I'm confident we can handle the communications bunker. Once we're on site, all you need to do is locate our people, seize the detention blocks on my signal, and then return to the exfil with them."

Zal cracks his neck. "If you're in, we just need to devise an insertion plan." He stares solemnly at the team, his eyes eventually settling on Taipan. "You," he says, pointing. "You could pass for a Kuroikaze. You've got the ethnicity and the uptight demeanor. No offense. That could be helpful."