2071 First Quarter Results (Main Thread - Part 1)

Chapter 1 - IPO

The suit, Mr. Pérez, beamed at you with a plastic smile and dead eyes. He rested in the shade of one of the complimentary parasols of Pepsi beach, where you had arranged to meet him. The old, rusted table around which you all sat was a staple of these sponsored beaches where Miami’s humbler citizenry could enjoy the sun and the sea. Behind the fixer, but a few dozen meters away, you could see the gleaming, futuristic forms of the furniture reserved for the beach’s paying customers. Beyond them, clean, golden sand ran all the way to the ocean, patrolled by innocent-looking security bots.

Mr. Pérez pitched the job like he was trying to sell you a used car. You could almost hear him smack its hood and laud its mileage per charge. It certainly was a novel way of saying he wanted someone creased.

"It’s a perfect opportunity. We know Dawntaneity will be at Soul Escape’s opening in two days. After that, who knows where she’ll go."

Dawntaneity. She was an up-and-coming influencer known for her spur-of-the-moment decisions, travelling around the world, flitting from party to party, always surrounded by a cloud of drones broadcasting her every move. Zeroing her wouldn’t be hard. Doing it without being seen, though…

"So," he said spreading his arms wide, his left making a familiar mechanical sound, "is this something you can help us with?"

Razor's eyes flicked restlessly around the scene, from Perez, to Stache, to Saito, and back to Perez. She continued to chew her gum, saying nothing for the moment. Her right leg fidgeted up and down restlessly like a woodpecker hunting for termites.

Stache stood with himself bladed towards the beach and the shortest approaches to the table from elsewhere. Old habits died hard and even harder when they kept you alive.

He kept his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark green BRS All-Weather jacket. The active cooling was great for a day like today... which in Miami was almost every damn day. The Colt Warsmith felt light on his belt and no one was going to spot it under the jacket. It was already hard to spot without it as you could easily mistake it for an attached phone case or medium sized pouch.

The veiled language from Mr. Pérez and for the most part any corporate face that hired them made him wish for his days back at the agency. There was no roadblock removal, alternative hiring method, or asset recovery. Simply kill, kidnap, and steal. Clear cut and precise. Getting a corpo to be that way in public would require some teeth pulling.

"You know we can help. Your analytics, AI research teams, and threat assessments told you that already." He shifted his head toward Mr. Pérez.  

The high noon sun cast a glint from Stache's inset mirrorshades onto the man's face. "You're just here to see how much we're going to cost."

Mr. Pérez laughed politely, like you were longtime colleagues sharing a cheesy joke around the Hydrofast Beverage Dispenser mk 5. Careful not to crease his suit, he bent down to pick up an Urban Crawler satchel and pulled a NeoPad 6 from its depths.

"My clients have prepared a generous compensation package. I'm certain it will leave all parties satisfied."

He waved his left hand over the NeoPad and handed it to you, all smiles. The proposed pay was indeed generous, but not overly so. Basically what you'd expect to have settled on after brief negotiations. Exactly what it would take for most mercs to take this job without thinking twice. Whoever had hired Mr. Pérez as an intermediary either didn't want to negotiate or knew of some complications and were still trying to low-ball you.

"Except for one very specific party."

Razor's eyes slid over the NeoPad with a volatile mixture of eagerness and contempt.

"And her legion of fans."

She readjusted her SolarPro Echo mirrorshades with the flick of an errant finger.

"Somebody make a call. It's fucking hot out here."

Paz takes a smoke from is Model Heaven Cloud tm smoking apparatus. A long, deep blue and golden smoke comes out of is mouth.

"Well, I ain't pulling the trigger. so the one that those should make the call..."

He scans the rest of the group being is mirrored shades, and tale a facial expression that he think look cool, but probably looks kind of pathetic.

"Call me a BRS shill but you wouldn't be bitching if you had some All-Weather gear for today, Razor." He smirked and glanced down at the NeoPad.

The initial offer was fair. So much so that Stache was worried that haggling or trying to press Mr. Pérez would make them reconsider their "help". Issues were that this amount could be low as there could be a few missing details... which was usually the case. Today it was best to take what was given.

Stache slid the NeoPad back. "Looks good. You have your help."

"Wonderful," purred Mr. Pérez.

"We can meet back here in three days to complete the transaction. Now," he said, getting up, "if you'll excuse me, I need to purchase a new outfit for the vigil."

////PRESS ENTER TO CONTINUE////

A few hours after the meeting, a headline catches your eye. It comes in on your phone's news feed and can be seen plastered on screens everywhere you look.

"BRS presents ZENITH, by Dawntaneity. The rise of a new tomorrow." The corporation is announcing a new line of high-end civilian wear inspired by the influencer. The story is accompanied by video of Dawntaneity shaking hands with a handful of BRS VPs. As she leaves, you can see three heavily cyberwared bodyguards in BRS gear detach themselves from the background and fall in lockstep with her.

Razor grinned slyly in Stache's direction.

"Well now. That's what I call a conflict of interest."

She looked back down at her phone and went back to scrolling through the list of Dawntaneity's insipid vlogs.

"At least we know that if we need disguises you've got a closet full of them."

Stache shrugged. "Paz and Blade know that isn't true."

He was referencing an old job where BRS was the target. Stache had no love for any corporation. He'd happily use their products and when they were used against them it was an extra sweet bit of irony.

"You'd be sorely disappointed with my wardrobe unless you like flecktarn, MARPAT, CADPAT, and more oldies." He pointed to his pants which were Czech Vz. 95 camo. "I'm a sucker for the classics."

Stache rolled a corner of his mustache as he looked at the headline. He was more interested in the guards and security that were caught on camera.

"We're either going to have to get in close and catch or create a moment that she isn't surrounded by her escorts. That or we can work out something long range."

Razor sighed.

"I always forget you got no sense of humor, muchacho."

(From the vlogs/stream is there any way to tell if she goes outside much, or is she too busy giggling indoors over expensive new products she is constantly handed?)

Paz let out a long whistle:

"How-y, that a loot of gearhead for an influencer. Some higher up most fancy her aaaa-lot."

Images and videos of the targets come and go on is vision as he lazily drives around Miami to the Safehouse.

"Could that be an in?"

"You want we should give her something pretty that she can giggle over?"

Razor made a face.

Saito remains characteristically quiet through the meet and the ride back to the safehouse, until the news splashes across the vid. "With BRS involved, it seems like this will be more than a simple club opening. I wondered why a corp would want her dead."

He shrugs in response to Stache. "Maybe we should see if there's somewhere else we can eliminate her. Or at least find out more about her habits. The less witnesses, the better. The opening can be a backup."

His eyes go blank as he connects to the 'Net, trawling through Dawntaneity's published vlogs and publicity releases, looking for any patterns, or where she would be in the lead up to the opening.

guilersk wrote:

"I always forget you got no sense of humor, muchacho."

"That part of me died along time ago. Can't remember if happened in South America or Africa. Hard to recall." Stache said grimly.

He looked over at Blade. "They could want her dead for pretty much anything. Smear BRS and taint this new product line with the death of its inspiration, want to swoop in and grab the line themselves, or maybe she just pissed off some executive. You can always ask Perez when we see him again."

"Find the where and when and I'll take the shot." He said closing his eyes, not like anyone would know with them behind his mirrorshades, and rested his head back on a headrest.

"You know what makes more sense?"

Razor took off her SolarPro Echos and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"If BRS kills her on the debut of her fashion line and makes it look like a false flag, then it's a fucking tragedy and sales go through the roof."

"Nothing sells better than tragedy." Stache said agreeing with Razor.

Flelmo wrote:

His eyes go blank as he connects to the 'Net, trawling through Dawntaneity's published vlogs and publicity releases, looking for any patterns, or where she would be in the lead up to the opening.

Blade slips into the 'Net with practiced ease. The Matrix stretches before gleaming and glimmering with the flow of information. Dawntaneity might not be one of the big players yet, but she has amassed quite a big library, not to mention multiple fan pages and lounges. Without a Sift program, this... was going to take a while.

////PRESS ENTER TO CONTINUE////

It takes Blade a few hours to establish a profile he deems sufficiently well researched to present to the rest of his team. Dawntaneity likes to flit from city to city, hitting a few hot places before moving on. She is surprisingly talented at making these trips seem like spur-of-the-moment decisions, but Saito has no problem confirming that they're anything but. Though Dawntaneity's servers are rather well secured for an influencer (she must have a competent hacker in her employ), her personal shopper's isn't. Someone has to make sure Dawntaneity always has the hottest new clothes to wear and items to show off when she gets to a new city (she "travels light") and apparently, no one thought that could be a risk.

Through Claire's (the personal shopper) agenda, Blade is able to discover the time of Dawntaneity's flight (A Sports Plus Miami Dolphins' cap, a tailored Glitz ensemble, a Street Fighter London Blitz Trechcoat ("My bodyguards say I need one, ugh")). That from the Miami International Airport, she will be going to Smitten, a high-end, ridiculously pretentious snack bar in the Sidney Poitier Arcology (a NeoPad 8S, NOT an 8i. "Don't fuck up this time"). After supper, she will be going to the club opening for Soul Escape (shoes she can dance in). Finally, her night will end at an after-party at her Suite at The Villa Casa Casuarina, one of the fanciest hotels in Miami (and also one of the most secure).

Razor cocks her head to the side thoughtfully.

"Trenchcoat probably means body armor...?"

She looks to 'Stache for confirmation.

"Of those three locations, probably the snack bar is the least secure, though I will need to check. The club will have a tight guest list and beefed up security for its opening, and that hotel..."

Razor makes a low whistle.

"I got in there once and almost didn't get out."

"Guys, guys! No need to be so direct." Said Paz, with a joyful voice.

"We could try to find whose coming to get her at the airport and remplace them. We could leak her schedule and force her to change her plans. We could infiltrate her hotel room and drug her, make it look like a OD. Or at the SMITTEN."

Stache broke out the old white board at their safehouse... well safehouse boat in Little Haiti Lagoon.

He got some print outs and started to put up info that Blade gathered. He drew out a rudimentary link between her stops while in Miami.

"Yeah, it's a Street Fighter so body armor is guaranteed." He said putting up a spec sheet of the Street Fighter London Blitz Trechcoat that Dawntaneity is suggested to wear.

He nodded his head in agreement with Razor on Smitten being the least secure location. He put a question mark above it on the whiteboard. He then put a nice big x above the The Villa Casa Casuarina.

"I've been to this hotel and they don't brag about it being one of the most secure in Miami for no reason. I'm surprised you did make it out, Razor. So unless you got someone on the inside there Paz we best steer clear of it. Also, feel free to redo Blade's legwork if we leak her schedule. They will also limit her exposure if something like that happens."

Stache did like the idea of posing as her pick up at MIA. He marked that above the airport and added a question mark above it. He then circled the line between MIA and Smitten.

"We can also try to intercept Dawntaneity in transit. They'll have limited security until back up arrives. In an ambush we'll have the advantage and dictate the engagement rather than moving into more hardened positions at MIA, Smitten, Soul Escape, or The Villa Casa Casuarina."

Lastly Stache added a legwork list. He wrote down and then crossed off schedule. Under that he added security, route, and location scout.

"So what are we feeling? I'm good for a false pickup at MIA but that needs to be tight and flawless to sell it. In transit is my most preferred but we need to know her route, security, and back up response time. Smitten is the easiest from a location and schedule standpoint. Still need to know her security and that area though."

"If we are going to pick her up from the airport then we need to be convincing. Who among us is a face? Because it's not me. And I don't see a room full of charmers in here with me."

Razor looked around with a sardonic smirk.

"I'm not saying it can't work, but I am saying that we're not well-suited to the task. On the other hand, I can snoop around this Smitten place and see what's up. It can't possibly be as bad as La Villa Casa. Right?"

Blade speaks up again. "I think that infiltrating the arcology or replacing the guards at the airport offer the most chances for success. The Arcology's systems should be easier to hack than the airport, but if you all do not feel confident in dealing with her bodyguards we can strike before they are set."

He considers the options, head tilting to the side. "Yes, I think Smitten is best. If Razor wants to infiltrate it to gather some information, I suggest we let her. I could try to hack into BRS' systems to gain information on the security, if you think that's what we need to know."

"We're perfectly suited I say. Security teams don't have a pretty face. They're full of gruff assholes like us. We certainly can play the part... we just need to look the part. I might not be able to slip by security through a ventilation system like you but I can put on a high visibility vest and carry a clipboard and get into places I'm not supposed to without people asking questions." He responded to Razor.

However it seemed Razor and Blade were more set on Smitten. He didn't mind.

"Best to know what kind of resistance we ground pounders are going to face and if I need to up the oomph level on firepower." He said to Blade.

"Best to drag Paz along as well, Razor. Get his opinions on an exit strategy."

"Either way, knowing more about the opposition is always prudent. I will check on BRS." Saito sets himself up in his ergonomic chair and jacks into the Matrix, eyes going blank as he dives into the information stream.

Colors whiz by, data and other users zooming through a simulation of a dense city, moving in four dimensions. Data is generally colored dots, packets, or streams while users have almost any appearance imaginable: red hovercycles and purple cheetahs dance in and out of traffic while armored knights and Dracula-esque vampires glide through the streets.

Saito's avatar is a traditional samurai made of neon light, lacquered red armor and a bright blue katana. He navigates the Matrix until he finds his target: BRS's local headquarters in Miami, an electronic representation of a storefront, sheer glass windows towering over the pathways below. He slips into the server through the front doors with other legitimate patrons, until he finds an entrance to the security office.

His avatar blurs, and changes from the brightly colored samurai into a matte, black-clad ninja. A quick login, and he's through the door, closing it behind him.

Blade finds himself in an enormous virtual warehouse, with shelves rising up and up, farther than he can see. Data packets in the form of floating clothing travel between the shelves like ghosts.

As the door snaps shut behind him, its frame turns red and begins flashing. Saito realizes his entry has triggered an automated alarm. Simultaneously, an Urban Crawler jacket detaches itself from one of the shelves and flies towards Saito, filling up with a construct with the silhouette of a young man.

"Hey there, buddy!" the Blue ICE says enthusiastically. "Please provide identification!"

Saito growls in frustration. His complacence with the intrusion had led to problems, and he risked alerting the target of their interest. He casts his hands in opposite directions: His right flings a suddenly materialized smoke bomb at the door, seeping into the frame, while his left throws a nean-blue shuriken at the ICE in front of him. The shuriken hits the ICE, temporarily blinding it, while Saito slips deeper into the warehouse, disappearing between the streams of clothes-data.

The Blue ICE recovers quickly and begins floating down the alleys. It brings its left wrist close to its face and says "Intruder detected. Attempting to locate."

Blade manages to stay one step ahead of the ICE and quickly locates the database node detailing sponsorships with influencers, a gaudy display of screens showing highlights of their streams. All he needs to do now, is find Dawntaneity before the ICE finds him.

Saito, knowing the ICE would be on his trail soon, quickly finds an unobtrusive spot to tap into the data stream. The clothes move past, a fluttering cloud of fabric made from electrons, until he sees a group of Street Fighter outfits. He pushes into it, and grabs what information he can about the security assigned to Dawntaneity before jacking out of BRS's system.

Security arrangements for high-visibility sponsee

Sponsee name: Dawntaneity

Security coordinator: Dalia Eachann

Three bodyguards:
- Cassimiro Nissa
- Usha Gwalchmei
- Jensen Włodzimierz

Live monitoring of feed? Y

Drone overwatch? Y, Airborne, 2

Counter-hacker? N, provided by sponsee

Transportation? Cadillac AHL 2068
Driver? Eleonora Koraljka

Additional security escorts? N
Drivers? N/A

Access to rapid-response team? Y

"That car. The AHL 2068 model. Pretty boring corpo stuff. Armored limo."

Paz pondered for a second : "If we don't got something to get through 3 CM of heavy composite armour, we'll need to wait for her to get out."

What a boring and corporate. It got bling, but no style.

"Sure Razor, hop in. Get me something too while you're there!"

Paz strolled to the Lucky Needle, a racing hovercraft with a luxury car silhouette and a splendid bright red paint job.

"Nothing too expensive--I haven't been paid yet."

Razor stuck out her tongue at Paz, and settled into the passenger seat for the ride.

Paz gunned the Lucky Needle's engine and sped away from the crew's hangout, sending the litter sprinkled along the street flying in the hovercraft's wake.

////PRESS ENTER TO CONTINUE////

After about an hour's drive, Paz and Razor pass through a neighborhood of shabby commercial spaces and rundown apartment buildings covered in a mishmash of graffiti, old posters, and evictions notices, before finally, emerging into a classy, well tended plaza. Paz brings the Needle to a smooth stop outside the area dominating structure, the Sidney Poitier Arcology. The tall, asymmetrical building rises up towards the clear, blue sky like a white hoodoo. Through its large windows, Paz and Razor can see the green of the lush vegetation filling its gardens and forests.

reference pic:

At the spire's base is a large pillar bearing the logo of Resilience Inc. separating two entrances, one labeled "Residents" and the other "Visitors", both watched over by cameras and armed guards in white Resilience uniforms. The residents seem to need to scan an implanted RFID chip to be let in. On the other side, the visitors check in by providing their SIN and being issued a visitor pass.

Climbing out of the hovercraft and giving Paz one last smirk, Razor strolled over towards the visitor's entrance, hands in the back pockets of her Desperado leather pants. Looking up at the Resilience Arcology, she tried to appear awed by its design, slowing down and taking in the details behind her SolarPro Echoes. She silently counted the floors and tried to make a mental note of any choice exterior infiltration or exfiltration points.

About two thirds of the way to the entrance she pretended to snap out of it and shook her head, continuing on briskly and stopping abruptly at the end of the visitor's line.

She rocked backwards and forwards, nervously bouncing on her heels. Turning to the next person in line, she asked,

"Wow, this place is really fancy. What are you here for?"

The young woman in front of Razor is decked out in Glitz gear. She turns, startled.

"Oh, um... I'm just here to shop. Maybe grab a bite to eat. The stores here are very, you know? Not like the drek out there," she says indicating the poorer area Razor and Paz drove through. "Is this your fist time? You have to go to Smitten, best food in the whole place. Real hard. It's, like, just a counter? No tables. Gotta be up for the line up, but worth it for the 'Net cred alone. Oh, I'm up. Adios, muchacha."

The young woman moves to the booth at the entrance and checks in before disappearing inside.

Razor is processed by a smiling Resilience employee who asks her a few standard questions before scanning her SIN and issuing her with a visitor pass. She is then hushered through a metal detector before stepping into the cool insides of the strange-looking building.

The Arcology is the greenest place Razor has seen since leaving South America. The ground is covered in grass instead of paved. Vines, trees and plants of all kind occupy every spare inch of the indoor mini-city. Residents and visitors walk around like they haven't got a care in the world as birds and insects fly around. The middle of the building is empty, with balconies surrounding the open space lined with stores and restaurants on the lower levels, and condos on the higher ones.

On her way to Smitten, Razor sees a few Resilience guards, but certainly not as many as one would expect from such a densely populated facility. She doesn't see many cameras either, but her instincts tell her they're there. She feels watched. Then it clicks. The birds aren't real. At least, not all of them. They're surveillance drones. The security forces must have hundreds of eyes scattered across the Arcology, with security teams ready to intervene.

Smitten itself is a simple eating counter. The restaurant's name is stenciled on a knotty wooden panel and lit by pink neon lights. The chef is hard at work behind it as a dozen patrons sit on stools. A line up stretches from the counter all the way around the balcony. She gets in line, hoping the wait will giver her time to look the place over. She unfortunately finds that there isn't much to see from behind the throng of customers. After finally getting to the counter, she buys an overly elaborate hot dog and a deconstructed smores, but she notices a pair of security officers standing nearby, eyeing her. Taking this as her cue, she leaves Smitten behind. The guards keep their distance, but tail her until she leaves the Arcology.

reference pics:

Razor ate the hotdog and brought the "s'more", or whatever the thing was supposed to be, out to Paz so he could eat on the way out.

"Lot of surveillance in there and not a lot in the way of openings."

Stache felt kind of useless sitting at the safehouse letting everyone else do the legwork. It wasn't an area he was exactly skilled in but he did know some people that were good at it. He got his phone and sent a message to Cherry, a private investigator, he knew and one that owed him.

Drinks at Inferno around 5 is all Stache sent. Cherry would know what it meant.

"Hold the place down, Blade. Going out for a few." Stache said as he clipped the Colt Warsmith to his belt and left.

A brisk ride up along the metroplex express and Stache was in Fort Lauderdale. Inferno was over on central beach or what used to be a beach. All that replaced the fine sand beaches around Fort Lauderdale was a massive sea wall. Beach front property was now plasteel front property.

Inferno was a hole in the wall bar. No big neon size announcing itself and no huge line of people trying to get in. The entrance was on the backside of a shopping strip next to their loading docks. Simple stenciling of its name above its front entrance.

Inside the motif of hell was everywhere. The walls moved with flame graphics, the bar was made to look like a rusted iron slab, and the booths were cut into the walls like prison cells. Modernity was around though. Above the bar there was a array of screens playing all the major news channels from around the world. Every booth was fixed with a white noise generator for privacy. Lurking in the darker corners of the place were some Neo-Cyclop BUDs (Battlefield Utility Devices). Combat robots that served as bouncers and security.

BUD:

Stache gave a quick wave to the bartender/owner. "One margarita special, Dante."

Dante was a legend. Veteran spook of the South China Sea War. He was one of the first boots on the ground for the invasion preparation of North Korea. Later the lead foreign attache for the newly unified Korea. The guy got to play everyone's Cold War dream.

He took a seat in a booth, got his drink, and waited.

Cherry came in as Stache was finishing up his first drink. His cybereyes casting a predatory sheen that was offset by his pink Hawaiian shirt. He ordered a glass of whiskey and slid into the booth with Stache.

Cherry plopped himself down in the booth with a groan and a wince. "Fuck getting old, man."

He looked Stache up and down, his eyes whirring as they adjusted. "Still sporting that womb-broom? You know it makes you look like you only use your bathtub when you're dissolving teenagers in lye, right?" he said with a smirk.

"They have some chrome and drugs for that." Stache said as he finished off his margarita.

Even with his dead and cold soul Stache couldn't help but crack a small smile at Cherry's comment at his facial hair. "Plastic containers with recycling code #2 or #5 are safer and better for dissolving teenagers in lye. Do it in a tub and you'll melt it along with the body."

He looked at Cherry's shirt. "I see you're still wearing stuff that's been out of fashion for 30 years. Matches the rest of you, old man."

He ordered two more margarita specials. One for himself and one for Cherry.

Cherry chuckled, brushing a hand through his short, gray hair. "Only 30? Guess I'm not as old as I feel."

He took the margarita gratefully.

"So, what do you need from a deadbeat like me? I already gave you grooming advice, but that obviously didn't take."

Stache had gotten Razor's assessment earlier. Sidney Poitier Arcology was tight on surveillance and entry points were limited.

"I and some colleagues need a way into the Sidney Poitier Arcology. Something where we can get by security with limited questioning and they won't check our bags. Then a nice discreet way out. A little different than your usual adultery cases but something I know you can do. After that we're even for Havana."

Havana was an agency contract job. Cherry, Stache, Gizmo the hacker, and Tick the fixer. Smash and grab of some off grid data from the Cubans. Was low drag, high tempo, and went off without a hitch. Almost didn't when Cherry got pinned down on exfiltration. Everyone wanted to leave him behind but Stache said fuck that and went back for him.

Cherry nods, thoughtful. "Sure, I can look into it for an old pal."

He stands slowly. "I'll be in touch."

(Flash-forward: The morning of Dawntaneity's arrival, Stache gets a message from an unknown number. All it says is "Not the future Glitz Boutique". Razor recalls seeing a commercial space on the ground floor bearing placards announcing "Glitz Boutique, Opening Soon!")

Razor quirked her mouth to the side and continued to chew her toothpick to splinters.

"I don't speak spook talk. So does that mean don't check out the Boutique? Or don't not check out the Boutique?"

"Hardly cryptic. Cherry isn't one for double speak. I take it that the Boutique isn't the way in if we were thinking of taking that route. So no going in as a work crew for that place."

Stache goes to the white board and notes everything the team had gathered about the arcology and smitten. While it was the least secure compared to MIA, the hotel, and club it wasn't going to be easy.

"So our problems: extensive surveillance and limited entry. Pros: Small escort team for Dawntaneity." He checks the clock. "I can get in fine with my personal weapon. However, I might need something more to take down the escort." He looks at Razor. "We might have to make our opening to get gear in."

He looks for any other comments. "We're on the clock now so if you got something best to say it now."

Razor leaned back in her Ali-Baba-Zon Signature Design Lumbarmatic office chair and crossed her arms, chewing thoughtfully.

"I can prolly get in although I guess maybe an even chance of tipping them off to something being up. Too many god-damned ojos. Bigger problem is I don't have any heavy weaponry and bringing one in will be... tricky. Is there some kind of way Blade can take control of security for a little bit? I did not see turrets, but if the escort boys could be flagged as dangerous then maybe they could be detained or distracted long enough for you to take a clean shot."

Razor made a finger-gun with her right hand and mimed pulling the trigger.

"Bang."

"Can I? Yes, but not until we are ready to strike. I will be more careful than I was with BRS." He sits back and steeples his fingers. Arcologies were tricky. They usually didn't have Black ICE like most hard corporate targets, but they were so large that they usually had dedicated Matrix surveillance. Depending on how lucky he was, they could have some young hotshot or a very apathetic team.

"I don't know if just flagging the security will be enough. It may cause a distraction but I don't believe they will be detained. Maybe we can instead separate them. Do they need to go through an elevator to get to this Smitten? I can redirect it to a quiet floor."

"Also, I should be off site. The Arcology will be on the Matrix, and that is one less person to get in and out."

Razor stuck out her tongue.

"You're always working remote, muchacho. You should come on site sometime, see some action."

She waved her hand dismissively.

"But, whatever, you know your business. Just make sure you're watching us and not some porn stream."