One thing about having your phone stored in your eyes, it's really hard to glare at it when somebody who has no business not answering refuses to answer. 
On an intellectual level she realized that it was probably for the best that Calypso didn't. And that it was her own damn fault for, of all things, attempting to choose protection for this coming fuckfest [i]randomly[/i]. All of this she understood. This understanding didn't make her any less angry. She had half a mind to call up Mouth and have him Spam her phone with animal erotica videos for the rest of the damn month, suitability be damned!

Fortunately for Calypso and Mouth's eyes, it was at this moment that Miranda's phone blew up. Figuratively, that is.
A small torrent of phone calls, messages and spam from the warp, all transmitted itself right to Miranda's eyes. It was horrible. Why of all times was half the city calling h-

"Son of a Glitch." She muttered. Aurora. They were all asking about Aurora Baines. And being uniformly and transparently cagey about why. Her plan, had been pretty simple. Get to the disc before her mystery rival (apparently, 'Rora), snatch/grab, get it to the boss man, E-Z/P-Z-Praise-me-C. And now there were these losers. You had boys from the Consortium, Militiae, at least one Sculpter, a surprising amount of smalltime gangs that worked under the Brethren, numerous Freelancers and to top it off some of the most obvious Corp/COIN spooks and O-Sec Agents she'd seen since the Flying ElecVend Assassinations. 
Some were calling in favors, others were offering money or raw materials, information, a few were even threatening to unmask the Florist (HAH!) and all of them, were doing it for the same piece of information. Information of Aurora Baines current location. Which, is to say, Miranda's current position, give or take a dank alleyway.
This presented a minor conundrum for our intrepid entrepreneur. On the one hand, she was currently in a seller's market, trouble was she was also a stone's throw away from where the fireworks would start. This put her in need of two things. One, a person who did [i]not[/i] care about the Disc, and had the gumption and firearms to keep her alive, and time for said person to get here. This lead to basically..one person. Great. All she could do was pray he was vaguely sober, while working on that second part. Simple enough, though not easy.
But, first things first, she called up one of Mouth's boys and had him run System Ops, under the usual SoP, uninvited guests and people trying to hack her current location would be in for an ugly ass time. Next, she set up a virtual room, allowing all contacts, and set them all to mute while she said her piece.
"Okay folks, you know who I am, and I won't insult you by asking what you want, I see a lotta new faces in here, so lets go over the ground rules, First off, blackmailers and marker callers can take a hike, only thing that flies in this case is Cash, Crypto and Credits." A silent course of denial. "And Chemicals and Materials!" she amended. "Whatever you think you have on me, or whatever you believe I owe you, believe me, isn't worth half of what's up for sale here. Only one item up for sale, and if you want it you can go out, do your own legwork like I spent the last month doing, or stick around here..and start bidding." She tried to keep her knees from shaking as she sent a private message, over a secure channel to Po-po's little VC friend. The contents of the were pretty simple, as keeping up with the torrent of bids coming from the now un-muted customers threatened to overwhelm her. A picture of Dack, the kid, address of the building she was standing by and the message "He's here, hurry"[hider=My Hider]
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