From: reley@uoft02.utoledo.edu
Subject: RE: The Eastside Run [pt. 1, collaborative]
Date: Sun, 4 Feb 1996 15:40:35 GMT

  -- Intercepting Conversation...       --
  -- Processing Speech Patters...       --
  -- Receiving Data...Done              --
  -- Printing to Neural Transmitters... --
 
The conversation was clear, even through the decrepid walls of the Chatsubo.
Darb had been peeking though the grime-covered windows for months now. With
his new sensory enhanced sub-systems, he was able to hear and see every
detail that happened. Other than entering the small establishment to get his
nutritional supplements, he had stayed out of view, only communicating with
some friends at Bell Western over an encrypted data link.
 
Preparing to leave for the evening, Darb pulled his ancient audiochip from
the window and put it back in his pocket. Delaying for a split-second, he
decided to offer his services to the man named 'Avenger'. Pushing the brown
hair from his eyes, Darb opened the door and stepped in.
 
Eying the three men in the corner, he noticed another materializing and
walking towards them. [Hmm, another cyberslacker...Looks good enough..But
the again, what have do I have better over him?]
 
Waiting for the right time, Darb raised his collar and walked over.
"Excuse me, sir, here's the deal. I have friends at Bell Western who can
get me any information I need. Thus, this info can be available to you if
I am with you when you make a move on Bell East. Otherwise, my contacts
will be notified of the infultration and you and you're comrads will be
killed."
The speech was delivered at a fast tempo, but clearly articulate. With a
sturdy gaze at Avenger, Darb waited for any kind of respose.
 
In article <4ehc14$6h0@crash.microserve.net>
avenger@zola.trend1.com (Glass Avenger) writes:
>A quick glance at his watch: nine p.m. Avenger found himself in the
>Chatsubo once again, in the dark, quiet section, where the biz 
>flowed faster and thicker than the synthetic blood through Glass's 
>arteries. He glanced impatiently around the bar, then again at his
>watch. Where the hell is Jackson, he thought.
>
>Five after, the six-foot four ex-bouncer arrived at the bar, his
>clothes disheveled from their normal, pressed perfection, a single
>bead of sweat rolling down the dark skin on his forhead. "Sorry, 
>boss, I hadda small problem with somebody out front. Guy mistook
>my credstick for his..."
>
>[Yeah, whatever, Jackson, just dev/null it, we got biz to deal.]
>
>Avenger and Jackson walked toward the back of the bar, sat down at
>a darkened table, joining a man dressed in casual business clothes.
>His face was nearly invisible in the dim light.
>
>"You're late, Avenger, that's unusual. Another minute, and I would
>have had to leave," A quiet, strong voice, with a slightly French
>accent. "I presume you've read my message."
>
>[I got your mail, friend, and I can do the job, no problem. I guess
>you gotta copy of my biz ticket, so lay down the bankroll so my
>associate and I can get on the case.] Avenger shifted in his seat,
>the Fuchi-12 deck that he always carried swinging underneath his 
>arm. Jackson glanced across the table at him, then back at their
>prospective employer.
>
>"Let's discuss the run first, before we do business. 
>You will take down the internal security system for Bell East, and
>provide electronic and physical cover for my extraction team. During
>the extraction, your team will be responsible for destroying the 
>research files as well as the prototype of the item we discussed
>earlier. I do not want any complications, Avenger, too much is riding
>on this run."
>
>[We got the time and the skill if you got the creds, friend.]
>
>"Perhaps you don't realize fully what you'll face, Bell Eastside 
>has approximately fifteen-hundred employees, and you've got yourself
>on a deck and one man in?"
>
>"Hey, man, we get *bad*, know?" Jackson always got pissed when it
>was implied that he couldn't handle something alone. Glass winced
>as he said it, knowing that against odds like that, his buddy 
>didn't stand a chance.
>
>[So, if I can dig up some people, you can fund it, check?]
>
>"Yes. Assemble a team, Avenger; you have three hours."
>
>Glass rose from the table, turned, approached the bar. He eyed the
>patrons, looking for the people who could help him pull it off.
>
>And perhaps those who he'd have to oppose...
>
><okay, your turn, chummers, help me pull this one off. Or try to
>take us down.>
>-- 
>=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
>GLASS_AVENGER                           <bmromer@cs.millersv.edu>