Clusterfrag

The client sits impeccably poised on a folding chair, her grace thrown into sharp relief against the stark contrast of munitions crates and empty beer glasses that inhabit Firestarter's conference room. Her wide cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes suggest a Punjabi ethnicity. She lacks any sign of cosmetic modification, a decision no doubt attributable to her natural beauty. An air of confidence and sharply honed cynicism seem to guide her movements and plunge her further into the archetype of 'throat slitting corporate dominatrix.' Her eyes--the color of soft clay and desert sand--pick over each runner individually. The intelligence behind the gaze suggests that she's assessing strengths and weaknesses. A faint, wicked smile suggests she's found them.

A single pillar of evening sunlight bravely penetrates the stalwart armored windows of Firestarter headquarters. Dust motes swarm chaotically in the napalm orange glow. At the focal point of the spotlight, the client's designer shoes. Expensive. Spotless. Worn with a pair of sheer leggings. Her sensuality would give her an obvious advantage in most places. This is a woman that capitalizes on every advantage afforded to her. A warrior--although of a different ilk than the motley crew of mercenaries sitting opposite her.

Her lips, painted the color of dying rose petals, part.

"My name is Nayana Samran. I represent BioDrive Inc., a privately owned B-rated Corporation. You look like people who don't care for idle banter, so I'll cut to the chase. Sixteen hours ago, one of our research facilities in the Mojave desert was captured by a number of heavily armed individuals. We need a team capable of penetrating the facility, eluding or terminating the armed insurgents and recovering a highly sensitive material sample."

Max sits forward in his chair and studies the woman. She is lean and angular-- the sort of woman you want to sleep with but not next to. The elf immediately doesn't trust her, and his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he scans her body language. Everybody has a tell when they gamble, and stepping foot on this property is nothing if not a game of chance for everybody who knocks on the door. Finally, the elf breaks his silence by asking,

"Before we begin, Ms. Samran, may I have our bartender, Kato, offer you a drink?" Max gestures subtly with one hand to Kato, who stands awkwardly by the door. The Japanese man seems uncomfortable with the formality of the situation and tension in the air. The woman refuses politely but with a faint air of annoyance, and Max continues,

"Very well. What is the sample? It's company policy that we never retrieve goods of an unknown nature." Max folds his hands on the table in front of him. The harsh, over-head lighting casts the scene in dramatic shadows and stark contrasts.

Nayana produces a data-chip and tosses it to Max.

"The sample is mineral. It's non-toxic and non-radioactive. It weighs 2.8 kilograms. All other details are need to know."

Adams nods,

"What are we looking at as far as these "heavily armed individuals" go? Do you have any estimation of numbers and armament? Do they belong to a mercenary group or another corporation?"

"We believe that they're members of an eco-terrorist organization known as La Purga. They're an extremist organization that has financial ties with Tir and some loose tribal affiliations. Their movements are sporadic, but seem to be centered around the Mojave which lends credence to this theory."

Nayana steps over to the tri-d projector and syncs it with her comm-link.

"The following footage was taken by our security cameras before we lost all contact with our people."

Points of light gather in the air. They shimmer and coalesce to form the image of a security office. An elf with an armored vest and an Ares Predator on a hip holster seems to be having an emotionally charged conversation with someone beyond the security glass.

Nayana frowns, her face illuminated by the projection. "Unfortunately, there's no audio."

The security officer takes a step back, his arms raised in front of him in a plaintive gesture. Then he's pinned against the wall as several spurts of blood erupt from his chest. He slumps to the ground. A group of figures dressed in armored coats and sporting gas masks step through the shattered glass barrier. One taps another on the shoulder and points at the camera. The intruder raises his hand towards the camera. The entire scene disappears, leaving behind just a splash of light as the recording ends.

"We have no information on their numbers, but believe there to be at least 20."

Max waves his hand and asks,

"Can you back that up a bit? I might be able to read their lips."

The elf leans forward intently to study the screen.

Tyros eyes the footage critically. It appears the assailants made good use of some sort of magic, and that is the troll's forte. (Roll knowledge magical theory to see if I can identify any signature spells, magical totems, casting methods, etc.)

Nayana plays back the footage in 2x slow motion.

(( Max won't be able to read lips as they were wearing gas masks. ))
Tyros is able to determine that the man was using a centering gesture and hypothesizes that he used a physical combat spell to destroy the camera.

Max teepees his fingers in front of his face and says,

"Sounds like that leaves the waste vent. That's a might big facility to find twenty goons in-- what kind of onsite security is there? Any defense systems that we can anticipate that they might turn on intruders. Similarly, any security systems that we could take back and turn on them? Drones or anything? And what about civilian presence when the facility was overrun?"

Nayana shakes her head.

"The waste vent is composed of a dozen 5 centimeter thick titanium-carbon baffles. They only open once every 6 hours, for a 60 second interval to vent gas build-up from the material containment cells. During this time, highly dangerous gasses at temperatures up to 650 degrees Celsius are released from them at speeds of up to 100 kilometers per hour. We attempted to send a spy drone in during a venting and it didn't even make it halfway."

Max nods in understanding,

"And I assume that they activate an alarm of some sort of they're opened off schedule."

Doc scratches his cheek, and leans back in his chair.

"Any idea of what kind of SAM launch system they have on the roof?"

He turns to the others,

"A representative from Nissan should be delivering our aircraft later today. I took the liberty of outfitting it with a few extras that might make a roof assault more appealing."

He holds his index finger, "The lock-on countermeasures should give them a hell of a time even getting a firing solution on us." He raises another finger, "It's kitted out with the best ECM money can buy, so the missiles probably wouldn't even be able to track us after launch." He extends a third finger, "If a missile still makes it through, the onboard anti-missile system can use the twin miniguns to shoot damn near anything out of the air."

Max can't help but break professionalism and cock his head to Doc. The elf's eyes go wide not exactly in excitement, but in something closely resembling it. Grinning, Max says,

"Sounds to me like we could fly right up and raze the whole damned place."

Even Nayana's face falters with the hint of a grin.

"As glorious as that would be, we're hoping to regain the sample intact. But, you are the experts, so I'll leave the point of entry to you. Our engineers report that the facility's automated defenses were brought offline shortly after the takeover. If you can gain access to the central data-center, you may be able to reactivate them and register your PAN's as friendlies."

"Already done," she replies.

The team's PAN's notify them of a file in their download queue.

"The file contains a VR copy, which your decker may find interesting. If you're going to walk into a death trap, it may as well be one that you're familiar with, wouldn't you say?"

Max smiles unenthusiastically and says,

"What a bright outlook. Let's talk money. What are you offering?"

Max looks plaintively at the businesswoman across from him and says,

"We'll need 650,000 to cover expenses and make it worth our time. We have some familiarity with the area, and we'll require a significant amount of ordinance to get underway. You can count on us being there in forty eight hours."

The elf pulls a cigarette from his pack and offers one to his adversary. There's little more that Max likes in the world than a good round of dickering.

Val opens his eyes and sits up slightly in his chair after browsing the VR file.

"Interesting software indeed. A familiar deathtrap will be a nice change of pace."

Val taps a finger to his lips thoughtfully, and begins speaking excitedly.

"I may be able to convert the VR schematic into a real-time 2D version using PAN signals to track team movement. The VR schematic already has most of the spatial data in place, so it shouldn't be too hard to divide it into discreet floors and remove a dimension. That way, if we need to split up for any reason, we could keep track of one another more easily without a ton of chatter. I suspect I'll have time to take a crack at it on the way over."

(( If possible, can I make a Software + Logic extended test to accomplish the above? ))

Nayana accepts the cigarette.
"An interesting offer, but a bit excessive. I think that 500,000 nuyen would be more than adequate in this case."

Max smirks faintly and says,

"Let's split the difference and call it 550,000."

His countenance is cool, but his heart is racing. Not since his dealings with Mr. Lo has Max felt his teeth sink so thoroughly into a negotiation.

Sayana leans close to Max and places the cigarette between her lips.

"No, I think 500,000 is a nice, round number. If you give me a light, I think I might throw in some medical samples. I'd imagine you have plenty of use for painkillers in your line of work."

Max leans forward and cups his hand around his lighter. Even inside, smokers always shield their flames from the wind. Lighting his own cigarette, Max inhales quickly and exhales just as fast. Smiling, the elf asks,

"Painkillers, eh? Have you been rooting around in my shaving kit, Ms. Samran?" Max tracks his eyes from the woman's face down her sheer (and positively smart) business attire all the way to her spotless shoes. Max had had a teacher once who'd worn shoes like those. Her's were always the best extra credit assignments. The association makes him smile wider, and Max relents with "Very well. Five hundred it is. What else can you tell us?"

Tyros interjects for the first time, having stood in the background to observe, "Are there any magical defenses to the facility. Obviously the invaders have mages with them, but is there anything else we should be aware of in terms of spirits or wards?"

Nayana smirks.

"The corporation has certain scruples about employing awakened. I've heard rumors that it has to do with our investors. Ironically, that particular hang-up is one of the main reasons that we were so ill prepared to defend the facility. No, you won't encounter any magical defenses--at least from BioDrive."

Max takes another drag on his cigarette and asks,

"Do we know what the group is after? Why would they have attacked the facility?"

Max scrutinizes the woman as she responds, attempting to deduce the truth behind her smokescreen.

Tyros can't help but give Max a wink when he asks, "What do our concerns need to be in regards to collateral damage? Are there civilians inside that need to be protected? How about the building itself. Is retrieving the sample the only measure of success?"

Max glances at Tyros but doesn't betray his hand. The elf is uncomfortable with the idea of civilian casualties, but understands that Tyros isn't asking flippantly. Also, given the woman sitting in front of Max and feeding the team lies, he's not so ready to assign a verdict of innocence to BioDrive and its employees.

Max is unable to determine whether or not the sly representative from BioDrive is being honest or not.