Shadowrun: Docs & Details

 (guest post by Michelle)

All right! So when last we left our team of runners, they had found the runaway decker in the deeply shabby studio apartment of his old mentor, Flair. The group decided they should probably stash the pair in a safer place, since it wasn’t as though they were well hidden as it was. Flair didn’t want to, but his wishful thinking gave way when faced with the fact that 1) TeeHee hadn’t been paid yet, 2) the kid had no leverage left, and 3) his protégé was a fantastic coder but had the street smarts of a confused snail. In years past Flair would have been able to protect him better, but between the lack of resources and the still occasional TBI symptom flares, he admitted that he wasn’t really going to be able to do much if someone came for the kid.

Cappy volunteered one of his mid-tier hidey-holes in Renton, and the team decided to take the two there, as neither had their own transportation. By late afternoon they were ensconced in a furnished place with a window onto a courtyard, actual carpet, and something approaching privacy given that it wasn’t just all one room. Cappy also put in a call to Roxanne, their employer contact, to let them know that TeeHee had been found, that it was an inside job aside from him, and that he didn’t have the goods any longer. Roxanne stopped Cappy before he could tell her more details, saying that the line wasn’t secure. She instead set up a meeting for 11pm at the Banshee, as that was the soonest she could get away. Given that it was about 5pm, that meant the team had some time to kill.

First, Kombucha cobbled together a quick transmitting camera with a decibel sensor that he placed in the living room, facing the door, to act as an alarm if anything should happen or someone show up unexpectedly. Second, the team arranged for a quick grocery/food delivery to Kombucha’s van via drone, so that Hocus could a) get some ingredients for a tracking ritual and b) make some cookies. One one-bowl snickerdoodle batch later, and Hocus set to work tracking down the astral signature he had from the blood traces left in the abandoned car after the GTI run. Diablo hung out and Coil did a little coding while people were waiting – oh, until Hocus went into trance, and then he drew a mustache in sharpie on the unconscious mage while the others critiqued Coil’s technique.

Meantime, in the Astral, Hocus sets off to track down the signature. Following the traces he has, he finds himself at Dr. Bob’s Quickstitch, a no-questions-asked, cred-only clinic in the Redmond Barrens that doesn’t turn away anyone, but also caters to a more occasionally cred-rich shady clientele. He sees that three rooms inside the business are warded, and the person who has the signature he was following is nowhere in sight. Surmising they’re in one of the warded rooms, Hocus makes sure there’s no nasty Astral surprises, then returns to his body to loop in the group – the blood belonged to the elf mage, who at the very least went to the clinic and is likely still there. No one mentions the mustache.

Following a quick procurement of food from a drive-thru in Renton and an admonition to Flair and TeeHee to stay put and off the Matrix, the team is off to the Redmond Barrens again. The team sees some gangers in Blood Rumbler red and blue putting the BR tag on top of Brain Eater tags in the BE’s territory – they’re kids, not soldiers, but that’s still not a great sign. Diablo clocks it as they pass by, but they don’t want to get involved – it’s not part of the run, after all, so they keep to the plan.

Dr. Bob’s isn’t that far from the Banshee, as these things go, as long as you’ve got your own transport (aka the Gorpmobile). The clinic is out to the northeast of the city of Redmond proper, so it’s got semi-reasonable roads in place, though no one lives right near it – we’re past the point where about anybody wants to live who doesn’t have to, and the area around the clinic has been cleared out. There’s a vacant lot next to the building that people use for parking, so the team pulls up there and proceeds to look the place over.

Coil does a quick logon and checks out the system at Dr. Bob’s. He wants medical records, but Dr. Bob is a believer in “KISS” (Keep It Simple, Stupid) and does not keep the clinic’s medical records online (they are in fact in pasteboard shelving/file cabinets with a gas can next to it, but the team doesn’t know that). The system is pretty barebones, with the medical equipment that requires an online connection to function, a link to payroll and personnel info, and security alarms/surveillance/systems. He taps into the security systems and quickly sets up a surveillance feed loop in case they have to break in and need cover. In addition, he figures out that on top of the maglock security doors and alarms, there’s a physical pacification system in place in the form of multiple panic buttons and gas release vents in each room.

Kombucha puts his spiderbot Edith Piaf into action and has it sneak in as patients go in and out. He gets it past the security door (also back where the exam rooms are) and into the hallway, where it looks around. There’s two guards on the door, one walking along the halls, and presumably at least one street mage on staff given the warded rooms. EP crawls along the ceiling toward the warded rooms, as Hocus points them out on the viewscreen in the van. Two are vacant, but one has a sleeping blonde elf woman in a hospital bed – looks like the woman from the surveillance video.

Cappy and Diablo decide based on this info to go into the clinic and try to handle this in person, as no one wants to go loud on the clinic and cut off a potentially valuable resource of healthcare. No sense in preemptively burning bridges among runners. The waiting room is packed – old linoleum flooring, acoustic tile ceiling, those waiting room, rows of DMV-style chairs all branching off a single metal rod anchored to the floor. One dusty fake plant at the end of the room. There’s a security door with no windows, a guard on either side of it, and the “reception” desk is behind thick plexiglass with a mic, a small window to hand forms through, and a credstick reader to the side. There’s a bunch of clipboards hanging on the wall next to the window for people to use, and the nurse/receptionist behind the window looks checked out despite her physical presence. “Take a number. 37? 37?” she says.

The patients look up – it’s evening, so it’s a mix of work injuries, sick kids, and street people filtering in. Lots of potential collateral damage if things go loud. Diablo and Cappy walk up to the window. “Take a number,” says the nurse. Cappy immediately starts asking questions, but the nurse just says “I can’t help you” and points to the credstick reader. Cappy nods, a little annoyed, but keeps his pleasant demeanor. As a little green light flashes at the nurse’s desk showing a positive balance, Cappy makes a “donation” of 500 nuyen. “We’re friends of Freya, and we’re here to see her.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” She glances at the credstick again. “However, I will have a doctor come talk to you as soon as they can.”

Temporarily mollified, Cappy and Diablo go join the crowd, with Diablo sitting on the designated troll/ork bench since those bucket waiting seats weren’t made for butts like his. It takes about 15 minutes, then Dr. Bob slows up. He ushers Cappy and Diablo back to his office, and Kombucha has EP follow them back to keep an eye on the conversation.

Before anything gets started, Dr. Bob shuts the door, indicates a cred reader, and says that he gets 100/hr or part thereof, and information or requested services beyond basic medical examinations are a la carte. Cappy raises an eyebrow, but slots a credstick and pays for three hours of time, plus expenses. He quickly gets to the point, that they know Freya is there and want to talk to her. Dr. Bob dissembles a bit, but then gets to the point himself, noting that he can arrange for them to see her, but a) she doesn’t leave the facility, b) no violence, and c) she gets to say when the interview is over. Everyone agrees, so he walks them down to the hospital room where Freya is recovering.

There’s a bit of pleasant enough conversation, and Freya doesn’t pull any punches. She doesn’t owe anything to her team members, given that they were within three seconds of leaving her behind. She got approached by Marcus Cooperman, the Historian, a high-end fixer who was looking to extract an asset along with some material. It should have been in and out, but Knight Errant showed up and everything went to hell in a handbasket. The chips were some high-end historical sim/Skillsoft chips, designed for educational purposes – nothing that should have gotten that sort of high-threat response. Val was the rigger in the car, Griffith was the corp razor Cooperman talked into helping (the one who didn’t leave Freya behind despite orders to the contrary), and Cooperman who went along as additional muscle/decking support. She doesn’t have the chips and doesn’t know where they ended up, though Cooperman was really hot to get his hands on them. She was glad to hear that TeeHee was safe, but she didn’t want details and wasn’t inclined to get more involved with that end. She feels real sore at Cooperman and once she’s recovered (always tricky as a magic user) she is going to take care of some unfinished business with him, since she suspects he set them up. He lives in the Barrens and is cozy with the Blood Rumblers gang, acting as a fixer for them to offload product of various kinds.

With that done, they all get shooed out. It’s about 7pm now and there’s still time to kill. Everyone takes a little time to call some people and get some info:

• Kombucha calls a rigger friend named Spork to find out if there’s been any high end vehicles moving, and the friend notes that it’s not exactly high tech, but there’s been an order go out for a palanquin, one of those sorts of chaise sofas carried on poles by bearers, for the HSE party on Tuesday in Queen Anne. Gold plated, no less, meaning that it’s got to be custom made and not so heavy the bearers can’t lift it if they’re not trolls.
• Hocus’s auntie, Martina, who’s in the Slovak mob, asks what he’s up to and tells him to stay on campus for the next few nights and away from Redmond, as there’s a big power grab about to go down among the street gangs, including a “war council” meeting on Wednesday night, followed by a big show of power. She would hate to see him get hurt for no reason.
• Cappy talks to Gabriel, the crew’s fixer, for more info on Cooperman, like how to get in touch with him. Cappy learns that normally you’d head to the high-end clubs downtown, but for the last two weeks the Historian hasn’t been seen – he seems to have gone all in with his gang affiliations and let his acquisitions business lapse entirely. He’s got a “compound” northwest of Redmond in Blood Rumbler turf where he lives, has a garden, and keeps all his rare and valuable historical and cultural artifacts he collects. Gabriel apologizes as if he’d known Cooperman was involved, he’d have provided more info upfront and sends his love to “that delicious dwarf” Kombucha.[

Desirous of getting a bit more of the lay of the land, the team drives over and find’s Cooperman’s place. Kombucha parks across the street, next to some joyboys and girls with BR marks. He uses them as cover, so they can take stock of Cooperman’s compound without being noticed. The street kids offer some good rates at a “store closing” sale, as they say this is their last night out here. Their friend Simon got cut up, and it’s not safe to do business out here anymore. That’s a little odd, as here in gang territory ought to be fairly safe from anyone but gang members and they won’t usually kill off their own property, but nothing Kombucha wants to dig into.

All of them taking a look at it in their own ways, It’s about an acre of land with a house and a wall around it, a high plastered stone fence with metal spikes on top, about 8 feet tall. There’s a driveway gate you can get buzzed through, a walking gate, and theoretically a gate in the back of the property, not streetside, but they can’t see it. Inside there’s a very nice modern house, 1.5 stories, split-level, with gardens and a couple of out buildings, including a large unattached garage. There’s surveillance cameras around, motion-sensor lights, and 2-man patrols around the grounds, one of which has a dog. All the guards are armed and look like they know what they’re doing with a gun, and they’re wearing BR colors. Astral scans indicate there’s two warded rooms on the inside but that’s all. All the guards are a little the worse for wear, with one Awakened but no spells, probably an adept, and one that reads street mage. No elementals, though. Coil’s scan likewise indicates a lack of tech investment – there’s no data stores accessible, no comms. Further watching seems to indicate walkie-talkies – the entire place is effectively reliant on physical security, as though magical or online isn’t also a threat. Kombucha could probably get a drone in, but not during the day without being noticed.

After everyone gets done, they compare notes. Cooperman’s surprisingly set for a fixer, even a high end one, and that’s a lot of BR muscle he’s employing – particularly since ostensibly he works for them, not the other way around. The place can be hacked, but there won’t be a lot and it won’t do much about the muscle. It’s going to take time to find the best way to get in and out, and they’re not even sure if he’s got the goods. Kombucha wonders if the reason Cooperman’s changed up his MO is that he’s slotted one of the chips and is caught in the middle of some historical re-enactment in his head or something. Diablo remembers the war council thing that Hocus mentioned, and it seems like maybe they just need to wait for Cooperman and/or his security to go to that and then break in when no one’s home, which strikes the rest as a potentially good idea.

Either way, by the time all this is done and dusted, it’s time to load up and head over to the Banshee. Roxanne is waiting for news, and Monday is drawing to a close. Next time, picking up with the meet!