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The sky is a darkening green, giving those in the know a hint about which kind of pollution is being lit up by the setting sun, and the streets are booming with life. People both in and out of the shadows go about their business. As you're well aware, it's not always easy to tell who belongs where. The concrete, steel and asphalt of the Sprawl streets are still slick after a full day of rain, and aging neon signs find their mirror image in shallow puddles, as opposed to the floating Augmented Reality Objects in every language imaginable, existing only in the collective hallucination that is the Matrix. Together, they bring color to the otherwise black, grey and brown streets of Seattle.

At the end of a series of snaking alleyways, the lights and AROs are fewer and further inbetween. Only a small, failing neon sign (and the bored-looking ork security guard) gives away the fact that the low building at the end of the alley is the entrance to Leverage, one of the hottest clubs of the season.

Inside, the floor is an ocean of writhing bodies. The sun hasn't even set entirely, and already the place is packed. Club kids of all ages and metatypes are dancing as if part of one big organism, their sweat-proof body paint illuminated as if from within by the holograms and ultraviolet lights sweeping over the masses. Some, likely those equipped with cyberears, have overridden the loud bass of whatever the VJ is mixing up and are dancing to tunes of their own. In the alley, the deafening music is completely inaudible, held in by the thin wall that divides those with the money to buy real alcohol and those who can't afford to eat.

Maybe that's the reason this is your destination. Maybe you're tired of eating unflavored soy. Maybe you're simply bored. Who knows? Whatever your situation, you've recently received a message telling you to be here. It's from someone calling themself Opti, a name you recognize as that of a reputable fixer. Most of the message is Neo-Anarchist drivel, but you latch onto the most important part: there's work for you. Leverage. Tonight.

You're on the list.

[hider=GM Notes]Leverage is a club of the "warehouse-turned-nightclub" type. It's been done a million times before, but this one has a certain appeal to it. Most of the club is a single large dance floor with an island in the middle, taken up by a circular bar. Along the edges of the room are several more bar areas along with room for people to stand or sit, although having a verbal conversation is extremely difficult in this noise. Thank God for Matrix convos.

Once you enter the club: depending on how you treat the doorman, he may or may not have informed you that the place you need to go is the room behind an inconspicuous door at the other end of the room. Either way he's not gonna check you for weapons—he knows who you are. Of course, the doorman isn't the only one who knows where the door to the backroom is. That elf chick behind the bar looks hot...[/hider]