When Red Five woke up to a message detailing a meet, she did three things in quick succession: First, she checked it for any unexpected surprises. Then she tried tracing it back to its origin to see if it had actually come from this Opti, and finally, while processing and eating the last piece of soy product in her tiny Redmond apartment, configuring an agent to discreetly check for any obvous exploits in Leverage's security system. The first two had given her little to none to go on; the message was squeaky clean, and it had been bounced through so many different devices that it was hopeless to find out if Opti was actually Opti. The care with which its way through the mesh network had been obscured spoke to the fact that whoever sent this message knew what they were doing. For some reason, Red found this reassuring. All the same, she'd make sure not to show up unarmed.

And now, as she was making her way down the specified alley, short heels breaking the smooth surfaces of the puddles below her, her agent happily chirped its conclusion: the club had an off-the-shelf security system, no in-house admin. No gaping security holes, but she'd probably be able to maintain a security account for the duration of the meet. She began slinging commands at the system, making sure not to skip any steps that would alert the system to a threat.

It took Red Five a second to realize that this was the entrance to Leverage, but the booming Matrix activity going on behind the unassuming concrete walls suggested that this was the place. She waved at the doorman. "Evenin', [i]omae[/i]." He grunted, eyes wary. "I'm on the list. Red Five?" The ork's face went momentarily blank as he checked the AR guest list, then he nodded and opened the door while informing her of the location of the backroom. Red smiled at him and mentally waved a hundred nuyen from her commlink to his. [i]Always tip the bouncer.[/i]

Tapping into the feeds from the club's security cameras, Red made her way through the undulating crowd. The bird's eye view of the club allowed her to avoid the densest clusters of people. Thus, she was at the small door in a relatively short amount of time. Quietly, she slipped open the door to the backroom poker game, noticing the last available chair. Of course this wasn't a solo job. She should have known.

"Last to the party, eh?" she muttered under her breath and took a seat. No cameras in here as far as she could tell. She had to make do with checking out the others form the corner of her eye.

[center]◳[/center]

As the last shadowrunner took her place, the man with the mustache quietly cleared his throat. In the blink of an eye everyone else at the table was on their feet, taking with them the playing cards. They left the room without a word, disappearing into the dancing masses.

The man himself got up and spoke to the runners in careful English with a Spanish accent that to anyone with a particularly good ear for language seemed to have been rehearsed: "Please, everyone join me. Have a seat. You may call me Mr. Johnson. Can I get you a drink?"

The six shadowrunners sat at the round table, a drink of their choice (or, for the careful shadowrunner, no drink at all) in front of them. The Johnson, clad in a tasteful black shirt, sat back down at the table, placed a small, smooth disk in the center of the table. He tapped it once, and white noise filled the room.

"There," he said, "now we may talk."

[center][img=http://f.cl.ly/items/2r15023R10092F2R262f/themeet2.jpg][/center]

"The six of you are here because in one way or another, your work in the shadows has gotten you noticed. In a good way, I should add," Mr. Johnson said, in turn addressing each shadowrunner:

"Thovren, rigger extraordinaire. People with more technical prowess than I have assured me that your custom drivers are [i]excellent[/i].

"Doom, or Doomstrider, am I correct? People with your aptitude for violence rarely live long. Whatever you are doing to stay alive, you are doing it very well.

"Red Five, or h4k/—yes, sorry, I am afraid we made the connection between your aliases a while ago—hacker. I have been informed that you are particularly skilled in hacking in the heat of the moment.

"Old Soul. Your work seems to differ quite a lot from that of your Awakened colleagues. I will be honest, what I have heard of your magic quite frankly gives me goosepimples, and I mean that as a very sincere compliment.

"Quicksilver, I have been told that it was you who killed the street samurai called Vortex. As sad as I am to see a hired sword of his caliber go, I am impressed, indeed, very impressed.

"And finally, Ze Lei-Ne. Perhaps the finest Face in the city at the moment. Certainly you are the most beautiful. Your resumé is most impressive. I should like to see you work one day.

"Now, if my information is correct, you have all been contacted by a fixer by the name of Opti. I do not know how much he has told you, but I trust he has informed you that I have a job for you. It should be quite the opportunity. First, tell me, how much do you know of each other? And more importantly: what do you know of a corporation called Koch-Huang Industries?"