Robber Transcript, Session One

a Cyberpunk game

compiled by Amy Luther (mockery@cox.net)

GM is Amy Luther
PR is Gary Astleford, playing Salvatore Scagnetti.

PR - It's a stud.
GM - A silver stud, or is it a gem?
PR - It's gold.
GM - Okay.
PR - Oh, and all my brothers are dead.
GM - How many did you have?
PR - Three.
GM - What happened to them?
PR - They were in the Family.
GM - Shit happens?
PR - Put it this way:  Past couple weeks have been bad for the Scagnetti 
     family.
GM - [laughs]
PR - You can see why I left town.
GM - You're the last one left?  Except for a couple cousins who ran the other 
     direction?
PR - A couple cousins who are in Miami.
GM - I guess that's true.  .  . Whatcha looking up?
PR - My nasty little submachinegun. [pause]  Oh, yeah.  It comes smartlinked, 
     basically.
GM - You have links, though, don't you?
PR - Yeah.
GM - Your wrist?
PR - I got a smartgun link,  I have plugs--.
GM - Wrist or temple?
PR - I think they're wrist.  [flips pages]  They're wrist.
GM - All right.  I don't know how you're getting to St. Louis, but it doesn't 
     really matter.  You can take the bus if you have to.
PR - St. Louis?
GM - Yeah.  To take the maglev you've got to go to St. Louis.
PR - You're starting in Chicago?
GM - No, we're not playing from there.  I'm just saying, you have to go to 
     St. Louis, then you get on the maglev at St. Louis, go from St. Louis 
     to Kansas City, and then you go K.C. to Night City.  How many bags do 
     you have?
PR - [flips pages] Two.
GM - And a carry-on?  You can have one carry-on, and you can have your other 
     bag in the baggage compartment.
PR - Okay, I'll keep the briefcase in the baggage compartment.  That holds my 
     gun.
GM - Okay.
PR - It's like a briefcase.  It's a combination thing, and inside there's 
     foam that holds up the pieces for the submachinegun.
GM - You're sending the submachinegun on ahead, though, aren't you?
PR - If I have to send all my weapons on ahead, I will.
GM - All you have to send ahead is the submachinegun.
PR - Okay.
GM - You can keep the pistol with you; you have to have it broken down.
PR - No sweat.  If I'm sending the submachinegun up ahead, then I've only got 
     my carry bag.
GM - Your clothes all fit in your carry bag?
PR - [pause, flips pages]  Mmm-hmm.
GM - Are we talking a big carry bag, or a little one?
PR - It's a nylon dufflebag.  It's not that big.  I can put it on my lap.  
     It's everything I own; I prefer to keep it on my lap.
GM - No problem.  They give you a little tag when you get on . . .
PR - Your kid brother ever hears this tape, I swear to fucking God, and I find 
     out, I'm gonna screw your head off [laughs].
GM - He won't.  Don't worry.  No, they give you a little fluorescent orange 
     tag that you have to put on your carry bag that indicates there's a 
     broken-down weapon inside.  The maglev is somewhere between being on a 
     coach-class airplane--
PR - And a subway?
GM - A subway and a charter bus.  They have seats, kind of like a charter bus, 
     but the whole atmosphere is airplane-ish, and there aren't any windows.
PR - None?
GM - It's all underground.
PR - I didn't know it was all underground.  I thought some of it was above 
     ground.
GM - Nah, the whole thing is underground.
PR - I thought some of it, like in the Plains, went overland.
GM - Maybe, but they don't have any windows, so you can't tell.  At least, 
     this line doesn't. If you'd like to change that later on, it's okay with 
     me.  And you have safety harnesses, like the ones on a plane.
PR - What do I need a gun for?
GM - They give you braindance or VR--
PR - Uh-uh.
GM - And they serve some alcohol, but not a lot, because it is a twelve-hour 
     ride.  And the security's like airline security.  Your ticket costs you 
     a hundred bucks.
PR - Is this just to Kansas City, or is it to Night City?
GM - No, it's the whole way.  In fact, I'll cut that to seventy-five, because 
     you are getting on three-quarters of the way to the end.
PR - [flips pages] Seventy-five?
GM - Mmm-hmm.  And it's one-way, right?
PR - Yes.
GM - Are you going to get a round-trip, just in case?
PR - [shakes his head]
GM - From St. Louis to Kansas City, there's hardly anybody on.  There's a 
     little cluster of Japanese businessmen at the back.  They're all wearing 
     dark suits and brightly colored ties, and they just sit in the corner and 
     they talk.  And talk, and talk.  And they're apparently telling lewd 
     jokes, because every once in a while they'll all laugh, and then one of 
     them will talk, and then they'll all laugh and talk some more.  It's like 
     being in the cabin with a cage full of magpies.
PR - And the funny thing is, they all probably think I'm a mobster [laughs].
GM - They don't say anything [laughs].
PR - [laughing] I mean, I look like a mobster.
GM - They're all in their early thirties.  And, if they're working for a 
     corporation, they're probably low echelon, otherwise they wouldn't be on 
     the maglev.
PR - Do they have little corporate pins?
GM - You don't recognize the logo.  [pause] They don't have any carry-on 
     luggage.  And, halfway through the trip, as if by mutual consent, they 
     all fall asleep.  So that's kind of nice.  There's also a disheveled, 
     dusty nomad family, which would be straight out of The Grapes of Wrath, 
     except they're black and they talk in Swahili.  They're wearing regular, 
     clean, hand-me-down clothing.  There's a mother, a father, a grandmother, 
     and two little kids.
PR - Okay.
GM - They ride in the back.  They've got carry-on luggage, and it probably 
     contains everything they own, because you recognize the look in their 
     eyes, like they aren't going to trust this stuff to the baggage 
     compartment.  They speak a little English.  Kind of a weird accent.
     And then there's only two other people in the car.  There's a blonde 
     woman in a duster and a little round range preacher's hat, sitting in 
     the back, reading a paperback, and there's your basic whitebread 
     corporate wageslave sitting up front.  He's in VR or braindance--
PR - Well, I'll stick closer to the girl.
GM - Or linking to his office.  As soon as the train starts moving, he jacks 
     in, and does not jack out until the end of the trip.
PR - I'm not going to sit next to her, but I'll sit about two rows down.
GM - Make an Awareness roll.  [pause] The very first roll of the game.  Ta-da!
PR - Fifteen.
GM - This is easy.  She's wearing an armored coat, like the one you've got.
PR - She's got a duster.
GM - Yeah.  It's armored, though; you can tell, just because of the stiffness.  
     And the cabin is air-conditioned, so it's not a problem.  She's got a 
     round, black, traveling preacher-style hat, and she's reading this big, 
     fat, coverless paperback about this thick.  She's got a bag on the seat 
     next to her.  She just reads.
PR - [clears his throat] Well, I'm going to get a magazine.
GM - And read?
PR - I'll read it cover to cover.
GM - Okay.  
PR - How long does it take to get to Night City?
GM - Well, it's about four hours to get to Kansas City.  You get to Kansas 
     City, you have an hour stopover where you can get off the train if you 
     want.  Nobody gets up in this car; they just sit there.  In Kansas City, 
     about fifteen minutes into the stopover, the car is completely filled 
     with what look like off-duty Army men.  
PR - Well, I keep my seat, and if anybody tries to sit next to me, I give them 
     a glare.
GM - They're all happy.
PR - A la intimidation.
GM - They don't sit next to you.  They're noisy, and they're not interested in 
     talking to anybody except the blonde woman in the back, who they pester.  
     But she doesn't respond, and eventually they leave her alone.  The car is 
     totally full, except for the one seat next to you where you've got your 
     bag.  Then the car starts off, and about six hours later you arrive in 
     Night City, and by your watch it's three pm.  So it's noon here.

[pause for a bathroom break]

PR - In Chicago . . .
GM - Yeah?
PR - Friends called me "Sal," but everybody else called me "Cowboy"--
GM - Any reason?
PR - 'Cause I use a wheelgun.  I have that Super Chief.
GM - Did you prefer that, or did you prefer Sal?
PR - Sal was amongst friends.  Anybody who didn't know me could call me 
     Cowboy, and I wouldn't give a shit.
GM - Okay.  
PR - Cowboy was . . . Well, I never really cared for it, but . . .
GM - Coming from the Family, that's kind of an insult, but kind of not.  
PR - But kind of not.
GM - No problem.
PR - I mean, it looks . . . The Super Chief almost looks like that thing 
     [pointing to a Jonah Hex poster on the wall].
GM - Is the barrel that long?
PR - [laughing] It's fuckin' huge.
GM - I've seen the pictures.  
PR - I mean, it looks like a streamlined Colt [something].   But, to scale, 
     I'd say the thing's probably . . . [holds his hands up] that big.
GM - Surprisingly, the Army guys and the Japanese businessmen appear to hit 
     it off, when they wake up again.  They're still sitting back in their 
     knot, and they're chattering.
PR - They talk?
GM - Mmm-hmm.  They speak English.  Mostly they're asking the Army guys where 
     they're from, and what's going on.  From overhearing this, you find out 
     that the Army men are from Omaha.  They're on seventy-two hour leave.  
     So, even though it's a fourteen-hour trip to Night City and back, it 
     still gives them a good fifty hours to party.  And they're mostly
     mobile infantry.  [pause] You arrive in Night City at noon, pull in, 
     everybody gets up and gets ready to get off the train. 
PR - I'll wait until everybody gets done getting off the train until I leave.  
GM - The wageslave, the dude who was jacked in up front:  he's probably 
     mid-level, with one of those suits that's styled just so.  The train 
     stops, he jacks out, and immediately starts to sweat like a pig, even 
     though the car is air-conditioned.
PR - Does he look nervous?
GM - A little bit, yeah.  Everybody gets up.
PR - Okay.
GM - They start filing out.
PR - I just sit in my chair.
GM - People file out past you.   The wageslave leaves.  The nomad family gets 
     up and leaves; the Army men leave as best they can, though they fill most 
     of the car.  The woman in the duster gets up and leaves.  The Japanese 
     guys get up and leave with the tail end of the Army men.  The car is 
     empty now.
PR - I get up and walk out.  I put my hat on.
GM - You're in the arrival hallway.  The Army men stay in a loose group off 
     to one side, and somebody, presumably their NCO, a sergeant or something, 
     starts calling off names, and they head off down another corridor.  They 
     don't go the same way as you guys.  There's a maglev employee directing 
     them.  You guys are shunted down another corridor.  It's really brightly 
     lit, clean--
PR - Where am I supposed to pick up my briefcase?
GM - You'll know when you get there.  It's upstairs, in the bus terminal.  This 
     is sending you to the customs area.  What you do when you get there is 
     you line up, present your papers, and, if you have luggage, you get a 
     little luggage ticket.   They give you either a green ticket, a yellow 
     ticket, or a red ticket.  You're not sure what that means, but since you
     don't have any baggage in the baggage car, you don't get one.  Everybody 
     else gets a green ticket, except for the woman in the duster, who gets a 
     yellow ticket and makes a face.  The nomad family goes through, and then 
     the woman, and then the Japanese guys, who don't get any luggage either, 
     and then the corporate dude, who is sweating really bad and has been 
     looking increasingly nervous as the line proceeds.  He gets up to the 
     terminal, and they run his papers through, and then two moderately sized 
     men, who look like plainclothes security, come up.  They look almost 
     identical, except one is shorter than the other; they both have that 
     butch, brown crewcut look, and they're both stocky and broad-shouldered.   
     The taller one is chewing this big, fruity wad of neon green gum.  They 
     pull the corporate dude aside, talk to him in low voices, and then hustle
     him off.  You're not sure where they're taking him.  [pause] Then you 
     head off, pausing briefly while they examine your carry-on, checking 
     your bag to make sure that your gun is, in fact, unassembled, and that 
     you don't have a bomb or anything in there.  
PR - By the way [laughs], I should have mentioned this.  All my ammo . . . 
     it's all dual-purpose, but it's in boxes that state that it's ball.
GM - They're not going to open it and check it.  
PR - I know, but . . .
GM - Okay.  [pause]  They just want to make sure you don't have a loaded gun, 
     or a gun with ammo stored in the same compartment.  After this, you go 
     down another hall to the bottom level of the Night City Transit Station, 
     which is the Planetrans level, and there's a place to get your baggage.  
     Everybody who has a green ticket goes straight to the baggage pick-up.  
     The woman in the duster has to go over to an Information counter, shows 
     them the ticket, argues with them for a little bit, and then they direct 
     her to another door, that says Arrivals, and she goes in there.
PR - So, where am I supposed to get my briefcase?
GM - Your briefcase is upstairs; you'll have to go up the escalators to get to 
     it.
PR - I'll go get my briefcase.
GM - You get on the escalator . . . Basically, there are two circular towers 
     in the Transit Building.  The escalators are in the south tower.  You go 
     up a level; this is the regular maglev, that goes all over California.  
     You go up another level, and reach the bus stations.  The last level has 
     employee offices, where you can't go.  So you get off at the bus station 
     level.  At this point, the Transit Center really sounds like a cross 
     between an airport and a bus station.  It's much noisier up here, with 
     vendors set up on the main floors, selling everything from noodles to 
     postcards.  Some of them are licensed; some are obviously not.  When you 
     get to the bus station level, you're above ground level, and there are 
     windows in the escalator shaft.
PR - Is there going to be any problem leaving the place?
GM - No.
PR - They don't check you as you leave?
GM - No, they did all the checking they're going to do, down on the 
     Planetrans level.  Once you get to the bus station level, there's no 
     problem.  On the bus station floor is this big, bright, checkerboard, 
     Escheresque pattern of black and white tiles.  There are signs, 
     directing you various places, like the ticket counter, the lockers 
     (which is where your briefcase is), and the bathrooms.  Your briefcase 
     was sent express mail, and they've got a separate area for parcels like 
     that.  [pulls out the Transit Center map].  Now, I know it says, 
     "Gift Center and Snack Bar," but I didn't see any place to put 
     escalators, so I just moved the gift shop.  The registered mail area is 
     over here.
PR - I'll go to my locker.
GM - A lot of them have been broken into, and one corner of the locker row has 
     been totally smashed.  It looks like a car came through here and hit it.  
     You go to your locker, with your key.
PR - It's probably a little magnetic strip.
GM - You run it through, open it  up, and your briefcase is sitting there.
PR - I get it out.
GM - It doesn't look like it's been disturbed.
PR - I'll get it out and go to the restroom.
GM - In the men's restroom, which is a typical airport restroom, are mostly 
     techies and commuters, moving in and out.  On the floor, under one of 
     the urinals, is a plastic Barbie doll, stripped naked, wrapped head to 
     toe in monofilament wire.
PR - I ignore it.
GM - Are you going to a stall?
PR - A stall, yeah.  Go in, close and lock the door.  Open the briefcase.  
     Check everything.
GM - Everything's in order.  Are you going to put it together?
PR - No.  I'll open up my dufflebag, take off my coat and hang it on the 
     door or wherever.
GM - These are the big . . . Well, in women's restrooms, some of the stalls 
     are flimsy--you know, they stop at knee height and go up just above your 
     head.  These are the big, heavy-duty partitions, and go all the way to 
     the floor and most of the way to the ceiling.  You couldn't crawl between 
     stalls, or look into another stall without climbing on top of the toilet.
PR - I'll put my shoulder holster on.  Get my speedloaders out, put them down 
     somewhere, and then assemble my pistol, and load it.  Put it in, strap it 
     down.
GM - That will take you about twenty minutes.
PR - When I'm done, I'll put my jacket and my coat back on.  
GM - Up here, the terminal is not air-conditioned, but it's cool, and you could 
     tell by the windows that it was overcast outside.
PR - I'll sling my bag, hold the briefcase in my hand, and open up the 
     bathroom door.
GM - You open it up and walk out.  You notice, as you leave, that you haven't 
     seen any homeless or panhandlers in the Transit Center.
PR - They're going to mob me outside, then.  I carry my wallet in my right 
     front pocket.  I'll go outside.
GM - You open the front door.  It has recently rained.  When you open the 
     door, you can smell it.  Outside, the noise level is amazing.  There are 
     taxis, buses going in and out, businessmen running back and forth, 
     automated baggage carts rolling around, general noise from the traffic, 
     and so forth.  The panhandlers and homeless are all outside.  It looks 
     like the Transit Center security has swept them out with the trash.
PR - Are there any dataterms outside?
GM - No.
PR - I'll turn around and go back inside.
GM - Along one inside wall is a big row of four dataterms, along with regular 
     phones and screamsheet vendors.
PR - I'll go to a dataterm and put my card in.
GM - What are you going to look up?
PR - Hotels.
GM - [flips pages]  Are you looking for inexpensive hotels?
PR - I have a hundred and ninety-five dollars.
GM - Here's your list of options.  These are all under the CP2020 listing of 
     a hundred dollars a night.  The Red Door Inn, in Little China.  It's 
     about two blocks away from the Transit Center.  You could walk there, if 
     you wanted.
PR - Nah.  Not in Chinatown.
GM - Good Night Rooms and Coffins.  It's in the Harbor District.
PR - No, I don't want a coffin.
GM - Ah . . . Hotel Yamaguchi.  In J-Town.
PR - Japanese.  Uh-uh.
GM - Pier Three Paradise Rent-A-Space.  In the Harbor.
PR - No.  [laughs].
GM - Hotel Sugoi.  Also in J-Town.  Another coffin house.
PR - Anything else?
GM - Cesar's Hotel.  Um . . . Little Italy.
PR - That sounds about right.
GM - Next to Stafford Metro Productions.
PR - That sounds cool.
GM - Then there's a little run-down hotel on the edge of the Zone, by the 
     MallPlex.
PR - Cesar's sounds fine.
GM - Sixty bucks a night for a single.
PR - Jesus.
GM - Seventy-five for a double.
PR - I'll try it one night.  Maybe I'll have some contacts tomorrow.
GM - Coffins would run twenty bucks.  The cheapest coffin on the list is the 
     Red Door Inn.
PR - How far away is the Transit Center from Cesar's?
GM - [flips pages] The Transit Center is right here . . . The place you want 
     to go--
PR - Is up there, yeah.   I'm going to need a taxi, or bus.
GM - You can take the bus, or you can take a taxi.  
PR - Bus would be cheaper.  I'll take the bus.
GM - Bus would be cheaper, but you don't know the routes.
PR - Well . . . then I guess I'll take a taxi.
GM - It's up to you.
PR - I'll get a taxi.
GM - Besides, you don't have to pay the taxi driver.
PR - What, I can run?
GM - Yeah.
PR - I'll go back out front.
GM - You go out front and hail a cab.  A Red Cab pulls up.  It's a bright red 
     cab with a hammer-and-sickle logo painted on the door in yellow.
PR - I'll get in.
GM - There aren't any door handles.  Are you going to knock on the window?
PR - Yeah.
GM - The driver is a portly black woman, with straightened, bobbed hair.  She 
     was probably rather pretty before she got big.  She pushes a button on 
     her dashboard and the back door clicks open.
PR - I'll get in.
GM - You get in the cab.  There are no interior door handles on the back 
     doors, either.  It's like being in a police car.
PR - [laughs] And I know this.
GM - There's a plexiglass window between you and the driver.  There's a 
     speaker below it, with a button on it.  The driver's side of the cab is 
     filled with stuff you'd expect to see from someone who lives in her car.  
     A little nameplate says, "Letisha Parks," and she has one of those wooden 
     bead things on the driver's seat.  At first glance, she's got a lot of 
     shit in the front of the car.  Make an Awareness roll.
PR - Fifteen again.
GM - Well, she's got more radio equipment than you'd expect a cab to normally 
     have.  Also, her meter seems to be broken.  Make a Streetwise roll.
PR - Eighteen.
GM - The "Red Cab" logo and ID numbers aren't painted on the inside of the 
     car.  They're decals.  The license numbers are individual decals, and 
     could be rearranged.
PR - I see.
GM - You see what I'm getting at.
PR - Yeah.  Has the door closed yet?
GM - The door's closed.
PR - Good afternoon, Miss Parks.
GM - Howdy.  Where can I take ya?
PR - Cesar's, please.
GM - She starts the car.
PR - Hotel.
GM - I gotcha.  I know where it is.  You just get here?
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - Where you comin' from?
PR - Miami.
GM - Mi-ami?
PR - Could you please hurry, ma'am?
GM - Sure.  God-awful hot down there.
PR - You'll never know.
GM - You jet-lagged?
PR - Uh-uh.
GM - She drives.  From the noise up front, it sounds like she has a police 
     scanner and several radios, tuned to various bands, probably to pick up 
     legitimate Red Cab business.  You can hear other drivers picking up and 
     dropping off fares.  You have to wait for about ten minutes to get out 
     of traffic.  As you're sitting there, you can see the Bodukkan Center for
     the Performing Arts across the street from the Transit Center.  
     Basically, you come out the Transit Center's front door, and J-Town is 
     everywhere.  Off to the north is the Corporate Plaza, blocking out the 
     sun.  As you move north you get into the medical district, and then into 
     the West Side.  At this point she seems to understand that you don't want 
     to talk.  Finally, you get up into Little Italy.  Now you start to feel 
     more at home, because it reminds you of the neighborhoods in Chicago, 
     especially in the way that the buildings are set up.  Instead of being 
     high-rises, they're old tenement-style walk-ups, and probably predate
     Night City's incorporation.  Cesar's Hotel is right next door to a place 
     called Stafford Metro Productions, which is an office building.  The 
     Hotel itself is a three-story building, stone and glass, with a big sign, 
     sort of like an arrow, pointing to the front door, that says, "Cesar's
     Hotel."   There's a terrace behind and above the sign.  It looks run-down, 
     but relatively clean.  The parking lot is about half full.  The cab 
     driver pulls up out front, and pulls out what looks like an old pocket 
     calculator.   After she bangs on it a while, she looks up at you, smiles, 
     and says, Well, that'll be thirty bucks.  Cash, if you got it.
PR - I pull out six very dirty five euro bills . . .
GM - She's got a money slot in the seat below the partition.
PR - I put it through and look at the back door.
GM - It unlocks and pops partway open.
PR - Thank you.  [laughs] I close the door.
GM - When you get out of the cab, you can also tell that the numbers on the 
     outside of the cab are just like the ones inside--separate decals that 
     can be peeled off and switched around.
PR - Walk towards the hotel.
GM - You go through the front door . . . it's a glass, revolving door.  You 
     go inside, and you've got a wide lobby, with couches on either side, a 
     dining hall off to the right, two arches to either side of the front 
     desk straight across from you.
PR - I go up to the counter.
GM - All the employees running around are wearing neat uniforms, blue button-
     up shirts with black pants.  The concierge is another black woman, about 
     five-ten, kind of thin, with tribal scars on her cheeks and her hair cut 
     close to her head.  She looks at you.
PR - I'd like a single.
GM - All right, sir . . . We have several available.  How long will you be 
     staying?
PR - I'm not sure.
GM - Well, our single daily rate is sixty euro a night.  For doubles, it's 
     seventy.  I can also offer you one of our suites, but those are a hundred 
     and twenty per day.
PR - A single would be fine.  How much for a single for two days?
GM - One hundred and twenty euro, sir.
PR - Let's just go with the daily rate for now.
GM - All right.  Your check-out time is twenty-four hours from your sign-in.  
     You will need to be out at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon.
PR - I pull out twelve very dirty, crumpled five dollar bills. [laughs]
GM - Oh, you're paying cash, sir?
PR - Is there a service charge?
GM - No, but I'll need you to sign this register and show some identification.  
     She takes your ID.
PR - I sign.
GM - Do you have any more luggage than this, sir?
PR - That's it.
GM - Would you like someone to show you up, or shall I just give you the key?
PR - The key would be fine.
GM - She runs a magnetic card through a reader and hands it to you.  Your room 
     is on the second floor, room 204.
PR - I'll go to my room.
GM - On your way up, it looks like the rooms range from basic bed-and-bathroom 
     single, which is what you've got, to the more elaborate two- and three-
     room suites on the third floor.  It's threadbare but clean.  The 
     concierge also gives you a little pamphlet listing all the facilities--
     there's a heated pool and spa on the roof, on the second floor there's a 
     terrace, connected to a bar and restaurant on the first floor.  There's 
     satellite TV, which has more channels than should be humanly possible, 
     probably bootleg.  And there is light security, which is listed as "alert 
     and well-trained."  You open the door to your room.  You've got a bed with 
     a temper-foam mattress, a closet, and a little bathroom with a stand-up 
     shower.
PR - Well, first of all, I'm going to take a shower.
GM - On your way into the bathroom, you notice that all the furnishings seem 
     to be locked to the floor, and the hangers are the kind that attach to 
     the rod.  There's a water charge.  You get thirty minutes free with the 
     room, but if you go over thirty minutes, there's a charge added to your 
     bill.  
PR - I'll take a ten-minute shower.  And I don't have any razor blades, so I 
     won't shave.
GM - You can get razor blades and more soap and such from vending machines in 
     the lobby.  They give you soap with your room, and clean towels, somewhat 
     stained.
PR - I'll dress in my clean jacket and one of my shirts.
GM - Okay.  It's getting on around two o'clock when you get done.  There's a 
     phone jack and an electrical outlet in this room, and a dataterm in the 
     lobby downstairs.
PR - I'll get my briefcase and assemble my Beretta, and load it.
GM - What are you loading it with?  Dual-purpose?
PR - That's all I've got.
GM - You could sell some of that.
PR - Hmph.  [pause].  Sling the gun.
GM - Who you'd sell it to, I don't know.
PR - Basically, the sling goes over one shoulder, and it hangs pretty securely 
     in the small of my back.  So what I'll have to do is, I'll have to go 
     like that [demonstrates], and reach behind to actually take it out.  And 
     the submachinegun itself is yea big [holds up his hands].
GM - So it hangs kind of crosswise across your back?
PR - Kind of.
GM - You have one window, which does not open.
PR - I'll put on my shoulder holster, throw on my trenchcoat . . . Actually, 
     the shoulder holster goes under my main jacket--
GM - Yeah, and then you put on your main jacket--
PR - And then I've got my sling.  And then I've got my coat.
GM - Your trenchcoat. 
PR - And then I put my hat on.
GM - And your other pair of shoes.
PR - Yeah.
GM - There is a laundry service, surprisingly, but it's not included in your 
     bill unless you rent a suite.
PR - I won't worry about it.  I've gotta go introduce myself.
GM - Okay.  Do you know where you want to go?
PR - [says nothing]
GM - Now, you know you're on home turf, but you're not sure where you want to 
     go.
PR - Yeah, I know.  [pause]  I'll go down to the desk.
GM - The same woman is there.  There don't seem to be that many patrons.  
     There's a couple of people getting stuff out of the vending machines, and 
     a guy is using the dataterm, and a few maids bustle around.
PR - Excuse me, ma'am.
GM - Oh, you're back.  How is your room, sir?
PR - Excellent.  I was curious ... You wouldn't happen to know if there's 
     a bar around here where most of the Family hangs out, would you?
GM - Uh ... do you have relatives in town?
PR - You could say that.
GM - Well ... [sighs] I'm not one for the night life ... There's a 
     directory on the dataterm, and I suppose you could look up local bars ... 
PR - Thank you.  I turn around, go to the dataterm.
GM - There's a guy standing there using it.  He looks like he's doing every 
     transaction possible.
PR - I just wait.
GM - It takes him about fifteen minutes.  You have the feeling he's 
     deliberately taking longer because he knows there's someone waiting.  
     But he finally gets done and moves aside.
PR - I glare at him.
GM - He doesn't care.  Unless you're going to turn on your ... Intimidate 
     Glare [laughs].
PR - That's basically what it is [laughs].
GM - He looks at you, then moves away, as though he had originally planned on 
     saying something and thought better of it.
PR - I go to the term and punch in "Mafia."  [laughs]
GM - It gives you a definition, and it gives you the Night City Travel Guide 
     Citizens' Warning put out by NCPD, which tells you all about what crime-
     ridden neighborhoods you should avoid.
PR - Is this your book, or your brother's?
GM - Um ... Mine.
PR - Oh, that's right, you bought this.
GM - Yeah.  See, it has all the little street names written in.   I got tired 
     of trying to figure out where everything was.  Right now, you are on the 
     corner of . . . where are you on the corner of?  [flips pages]  Farren 
     and Third Street.  Right about now, you're wishing that you'd known 
     somebody--anybody--to look up when you got out here.
PR - Hmmm. 
GM - You know, being from the Family, that around this time they tend to be 
     hanging out in places that have late lunch.  Now, later on in the 
     evening, they'll be at the bars, but right now,  from about noon to about 
     three o'clock, they're having lunch.
PR - I'm going to go to Beppo's Trattoria.
GM - Beppo's Trattoria.  [fake accent]
PR - Which is food.  I'll walk.  
GM - Where is it?  [pause].  Oh, here it is.  See, you only have to go up two 
     blocks.  
PR - I know.  I just hope nobody tries to pull me over.
GM - You haven't seen many NCPD.  You saw a car by the Transit Center, and you 
     saw a lot of private security around the Bodukkan, probably to keep 
     transients and such from drifting over from the bus station.  But up 
     here, you don't see any police presence.  
PR - Okay.
GM - Beppo's.  On the way there you pass Billi G. Productions, KJBR Studios; 
     it looks like a media-related area.  There's a radio station, a 
     production area, and so on.  Also the Continental Detective Agency, 
     which has a very large building.  Across the street from the Trattoria 
     are some townhouses and a business area, the Falcone Building.  So, you
     walk up the street.  It is now getting on towards three-ish.  The 
     lunchtime traffic has died down, and it starts to rain midway up there.
PR - Wonderful.
GM - Enough to bead up your coat and run off the brim of your hat, but it's 
     not pouring.  You see some businessmen walking around, along with some 
     men who have that walk that you associate with Family, moving like they 
     own the entire neighborhood.
PR - They do.
GM - Yep.  The Trattoria is a scaled-down Italian restaurant.  You don't have 
     to wait to be seated; you can just go in and find yourself a table, and 
     you'll be served.  It feels like more of a lunch place.  It has one of 
     those green awnings that stick out in front of the door.  There are 
     twenty or twenty-five people in here.  Most of them look like business 
     people on their lunch break.  And you've got a couple waiters wandering 
     around.   Something like a lunch counter is in the back, although there's 
     nobody at it; it looks like it's been converted into a salad bar.  Once 
     upon a time this was probably a sub-sandwich bar--they've still got the 
     stools, but there's now a produce bar back there.  There are a couple of empty
     tables, and there's a group of people in the back who give you the 
     feeling that they're what you're looking for.  There are four men, all 
     dressed in suits.  Two of them are eating and two of them aren't, 
     although they're all talking.  One is eating mostly salad, lots of green 
     leafy shit with sixteen different dressings piled up in front of him, and 
     garlic bread and such.
PR - Okay.  Unless I say otherwise, I'm going to speak in Italian from now on.
GM - All right.  They're speaking English, although one of them has a slight 
     accent. 
PR - I'll wait.
GM - One guy is not eating at all; he's just sitting there, watching the 
     restaurant.  The third guy is eating some kind of pasta meal, fettucini 
     or something, and he's also using the salad dressing.  He and the first 
     guy are eating off each other's plates, just reaching over and taking 
     shit and swapping forks.  And, every once in a while, the fourth guy, who 
     doesn't have a plate, will grab a bite off one plate or the other.  It 
     looks like he didn't order.  He's just scavenging.  They all look like 
     they're in their thirties.  What are you going to do?
PR - I'll step in.
GM - You come in and look around.  The number two guy watches you as you come 
     in.
PR - I look at him.
GM - He doesn't say anything.  He's just looking at you, like, "Who is this 
     guy?"
PR - Well, I wait to be seated.
GM - A man comes out of the back.  Apparently the cooks and waiters and 
     busboys rotate.  There aren't "waiters" and "cooks;" everybody runs in 
     and out of the kitchen, doing everything.  So, this guy comes up to you, 
     a weaselly-looking little guy with slicked-back black hair, and [break 
     in tape]

[During the gap, Sal eats lunch, speaking in Italian to the weaselly waiter.  
 None of the patrons speak to him, and the waiter is unwilling to give him any 
 information regarding Family business.  The four men in the back listen while 
 this conversation is going on, and leave without comment.  When Sal leaves, 
 he notices the second man hanging out under an awning about two blocks up the 
 street.   Apparently he has been waiting for Sal to come out.  Sal returns to 
 the hotel and decides to return to the Trattoria later that evening.]

PR - Don't you want to use the microphone?
GM - No, it's okay.  I think it's just because when it fell over ... So, for 
     the benefit of the tape: You go back to the Trattoria, and find that it 
     becomes some kind of bar after hours.   You have the feeling that 
     civilians--non-Family members--do come in here and drink sometimes, but 
     nobody talks to them, and they're made to feel very unwelcome.  Which is 
     the treatment that you're going to get when you get in here.
PR - Obviously.
GM - You go over to the bar.  The weaselly little guy is off in the corner, 
     with a bunch of other guys you recognize as waiters and busboys from 
     this afternoon.  None of the lunch guys are in here ... you know, none 
     of the guys from that table.  So, you head towards the bar.
PR - Actually ... I'll walk toward him.
GM - The weaselly guy?
PR - The guy that was my waiter, right?
GM - Yeah.  The guy that was your waiter/cook/busboy is eating and drinking 
     and talking to his friends.  He sees you.  He stops.  He gets a look on 
     his face like, "What the hell is he doing here?"  He stands up and comes 
     over to you.  He says Ah, yes.  Your name is Sal?  You're staying at 
     Cesar's?
PR - Can I buy you a drink?
GM - Well ... this is not exactly a drinking establishment ... in fact, we're 
     technically closed right now ...
PR - It looks like everybody else is drinking.
GM - Well ... yes.   [sigh] Since you're in here right now ...
PR - I'm new in town.
GM - He looks at his friends, looks at you, shrugs to his friends, and heads 
     toward the bar.  All right.  Fine.  One drink.   The bartender has dark 
     skin and really dark, Mediterranean hair; big calloused hands, like he 
     works on the docks or something; rolled-up sleeves, a pair of dark 
     slacks on, and dress shoes.  There are marks on his white shirt, 
     apparently rust marks, that look to you like they might be from wearing 
     a shoulder holster.  You've had to have similar marks cleaned out of your 
     shirts before, so you're pretty sure.  He recognizes the guy you're 
     talking to, and they make small talk for a second.  They don't call each 
     other by name, and they ignore you.  Finally, when they're done, the 
     weaselly man turns to you and says, Well, you were going to buy me a 
     drink now.
PR - Yeah.  Give him whatever he's drinking, and I'll take a Scotch.
GM - The bartender turns around to get the drinks.  The weaselly guy sits 
     down at one of the stools with a heavy sigh and puts his elbows up on 
     the bar.
PR - I sit down.  Sorry to embarrass you. 
GM - Oh, no.  You're not embarassing me.
PR - We would have done the same thing, if you'd come and visited back home.
GM - Where is "back home?"
PR - Chicago.
GM - Ah, you're from Chicago.  And what did you do in Chicago?   Are you a 
     business man?
PR - [coughs] Strong arm.
GM - Ah.  [pause] So what are you doing out here?
PR - I like to call it relocating, thank you.
GM - [sigh]  I know you're looking for a job, but this is not the place to 
     look.
PR - Could you give me a hint as to where I should look? [pause] Isn't Skiv 
     in charge out here?
GM - Mr. Skiv has nothing to do with this establishment.  What was your name 
     again?
PR - Sal.
GM - What was your whole name?
PR - [sighs, laughs].  Sal Scagnetti.
GM - Have you got a business card?
PR - I left them at home.
GM - [pause]  All right.  This is what I can do.   But it's on the condition 
     that, once you finish your drink, you leave and you find another bar to 
     drink at.
PR - Fair enough.
GM - He takes a cocktail napkin off the bar and pushes it over to you.  You 
     write your name on here.  You write where you're from.  You write where 
     you're staying right now.  You write your SIN number on it.  You give it 
     back.  
PR - Are you serious?
GM - Yes, I am very serious.  I give this to a man I know, and maybe he will 
     give you a call.
PR - Well, it's the best clear lead I've had all day.  I didn't catch your 
     name.
GM - I didn't throw it.
PR - Would you mind playing catch?
GM - He laughs and sips his drink.  You write your name down on here.  He taps 
     the napkin.
PR - What if they want to know who sent me?  What do I tell them?
GM - He looks doubtful.
PR - Look, I'm not asking for your entire history.
GM - You have the feeling that he's thinking if you're some weirdo, running 
     from a death threat in the East, that he doesn't want to get involved.
PR - Trust me.  Nobody's gonna come looking for me.  Yet.
GM - My name is Joseph.  I am, unfortunately, but one of the many Josephs who 
     work here, but most of them are Guiseppe's, so you should not have any 
     problem finding me.  He tells you the hours he works.
PR - I write down my name.  "Salvatore Scagnetti."  My SIN number.  "Chicago."  
     [laughs]  "Cesar's Hotel."  That's all he wanted, right?
GM - Yep.
PR - My room number.  And I give it back.
GM - He folds it up and puts it away, then finishes his drink and waits for 
     you to finish yours.
PR - Thank you.
GM - You're welcome.  Please, feel free to come back.  During business hours.  
     Your next meal--I'll give you a discount.  Just because you're being so 
     cooperative.
PR - [sighs]  Well, have a good one, Joe.
GM - [waves] Sal.
PR - Look around.  [laughs]  Walk towards the door.  
GM - As you walk through the bar, you notice people watching you, almost as 
     though they're trying to place you but they're not quite sure who you 
     are.  Some of them are frankly staring.
PR - [laughs, pleading]  Don't I look like a mafioso?
GM - That's why they're trying to figure out who you are.  You act like one 
     of them, but they've never seen you in here before.  
PR - I'm going to walk back to the hotel, then.
GM - Are you going to bed?
PR - No.  I'm going to the dataterm.  I'd like to place an ad.  "Small-time 
     hood looking to break some kneecaps.  If you need somebody done, contact 
     me at ... ah ... Leave a message at such-and-such."  I'll get a message 
     box.  [laughing]
GM - [laughing] You can post the ad ...
PR - I'll put it under "Miscellaneous."
GM - For five bucks.
PR - All right.  I'll go up to my room and watch TV until about one.
GM - You type this out, disconsolately. "Small-time hood looking for a knee to 
     break."
PR - And then I'll go to bed.
GM - At nine o'clock the next morning, the phone rings.  
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - A bright voice answers.  It's not the woman who was on the desk, but 
     someone who sounds close enough to be her sister.  She chirps in your 
     ear, Mr. Scagnetti, we have a phone call for you.
PR - Okay.  
GM - She puts it through.  It rings twice, and a man's voice says, Sal 
     Scagnetti?
PR - Mmm-hmm?
GM - Sal Scagnetti from Chicago?  He recites your SIN number.  
PR - Yeah, yeah.
GM - I saw your ad.
PR - Wait, I thought they were supposed to leave a message on the board!
GM - I thought direct communication would be more appropriate [laughs].
PR - Where did you get my name and number?
GM - From Joseph.  At Beppo's?
PR - Ah.  Okay.  How sweet.
GM - I understand you're from Chicago.
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - Well, I have to complement you on your ... initiative.
PR - Gee.  That's a first.
GM - Did I wake you up?
PR - No.  No, I was awake already.
GM - [laughs]  My name is Robert Connolly ... 
PR - Mmm-hmm,
GM - If you could ... I'd like you to come down to the Hotel Sugoi, in 
     J-Town ... Do you know where that is?
PR - I'll find it.
GM - Could you be here in an hour?
PR - I can try.  Depending on traffic.  Where was that again?
GM - He gives you the address.  It's on the corner of 21st and Rutger.
PR - All right.
GM - He hangs up the phone without saying goodbye.
PR - Jesus.  Fuckin' wop bastard.
GM - Most likely, he doesn't work out of J-Town; he's just asking you to 
     meet him down there for some reason.
PR - I'll get ready as fast as I can.  Debate on taking the submachinegun and 
     dismiss it.
GM - [laughs]
PR - I think the cannon will be good enough.  I'll go back down.  Well, shit.  
     I'll go to a vending machine and buy a razor and shave.
GM - Okay.  Slick your hair back?  How do you wear your hair?
PR - Crew-cut.  [laughs]  Go out front and look for a cab.  
GM - Shit, you could just water it.  You don't have to shower.  Just sprinkle 
     water on top once in a while.
PR - I'll try to find a cab.
GM - Another Red Cab.  A different one.  This one looks legitimate.  The cab 
     number is stenciled on in paint, and the VIN number inside is on a little 
     metal plaque.
PR - Could you take me to the Sugoi?
GM - He takes you.
PR - We get there.  Cab fare ...
GM - Thirty-five.
PR - Thirty-five.  Jesus Christ.
GM - Cabs are expensive. 
PR - You ain't fuckin' kidding me.
GM - Your money is running down the drain.
PR - Damn right.  You know how much I got?
GM - How much you got?
PR - Counting the razor blade ... $49.50.
GM - Shit.  You're in bad shape.  Okay ... The Hotel Sugoi--
PR - Oh, yeah.  I've gotta check out of the fuckin' hotel by one.
GM - Yup.  The Hotel is a coffin house on the edge of J-Town.  It's right 
     opposite the park, and the Combat Cab offices are right next door on the 
     same block.  It's a classic little modular building with tiny little 
     round windows like portholes spaced in rows on the wall.  It's like a 
     little beehive.  
PR - How cute.
GM - You go through a revolving door on the ground floor on 21st Street which 
     opens up into a lobby.  This place has more vending machines than you 
     have ever seen in your entire life.  It's like an arcade.  There are also 
     coin-operated laundry machines--washers and dryers and soap dispensers, 
     and coin-op microwaves, so that you can get prepack out of a vending 
     machine and heat it before you go to your room.  It's a big lobby.  
     There's a desk against the far wall with a clerk standing behind it, 
     reading a magazine.
PR - Look around.  Is there anybody else in here?
GM - Yes.  There are a bunch of people using the vending machines and washing 
     machines.  There is also a guy sitting on a white plastic bench by the 
     far wall.  He's not doing anything in particular, just sitting there and 
     drinking coffee out of a white plastic cup.
PR - How is he dressed?
GM - He's got a nice black suit on.  He doesn't look corporate.  It's almost 
     Family-style, but not quite--he's not sitting the right way, or 
     something.  He doesn't have the look.  He looks to you like somebody on 
     the fringe.
PR - I'm going to go sit down on another bench.
GM - He gets up and walks toward you.  He's not very tall, about 5'6", with 
     thin brown flyaway hair and a beaky nose.  He's rather nondescript.  He 
     finishes his coffee as he's walking over, and crumples up the cup and 
     throws it in the wastebasket.  He has thin hands, and his fingers are 
     kind of twisted, like his knuckles or hands have been broken and didn't
     quite heal right.  His suit coat is unbuttoned.  He seems to recognize 
     you.  [pause]  Vat are you looking up, my dear?  You gonna shoot him?
PR - I look up.  
GM - He stands in front of you and looks down at you.  He says,  Mr. Scagnetti?
PR - Mmmm.
GM - This is the same voice that was on the phone.
PR - Mr. Connolly.
GM - [laughs]  If I were as pleased to meet you as you are to meet me, I'd be 
     dead ... Would you like to go for a walk?
PR - Sure.  I stand up.
GM - He motions toward the front door.  [pause]  What are you looking for?
PR - "Gone are the days when you might accidentally bring AP to a nudist 
     colony." [laughs]
GM - Dual-purpose rounds?
PR - Yeah.
GM - They're cool.  You guys head towards the front door.  He leaves first.  
     You follow him.  He heads across the street toward the park.  It's 
     overcast today, but it hasn't rained, and it's kind of chilly.  You see 
     a few joggers in the park, but that's about it.  A couple of people
     sitting bundled up on the benches, reading or feeding the pigeons.  The 
     grass is wet, and freshly cut, so wet pieces of grass stick to your 
     shoes.  He walks next to you, not saying much for a while, and then he 
     laughs, and says,  So, Sal Scagnetti from Chicago.  He recites your SIN 
     number again, along with a little dossier of information on you--all 
     public domain stuff, like where you were born, where you went to school, 
     all that.  What your arrests have been for and what the warrant currently 
     out on you is for.  And when he gets done with that, he looks at you, 
     waiting for you to react.
PR - Anything else?
GM - I could tell you your shoe size, but I think you already know that.
PR - Mmm-hmm.
GM - I suppose I don't need to ask you what you're doing in Night City, since 
     everyone generally knows what went down in Chicago.
PR - Change of ownership.
GM - What prompted you to come out here?
PR - The heat was just a little too high.
GM - We don't have too much love for our East Coast brethren.
PR - Neither do I, anymore.
GM - "The enemy of my enemy," I suppose.
PR - Something like that, yeah.
GM - You're looking for a job.
PR - Mmm-hmm.
GM - You're not the most subtle of men ... but that's not generally the 
     quality desired in a man in the line of work that you're looking for.  
     [pause]  It happens that I may have such a job for you.
PR - Great.
GM - You're not very enthusiastic about all this.
PR - Well, how would you feel?  [laughs]  In the past two weeks, half of my 
     family has been wiped out.  I've lost my job.  My boss is dead.  
GM - Let me guess.  You come to Night City.  You get the runaround from 
     everybody.
PR - Yeah.  You get the idea.
GM - You can't exactly walk into Little Italy and say, "Hi!  I'm a Family 
     member!  Give me a job."
PR - That's not what I was intending.
GM - That's exactly how it worked out.
PR - Well, I don't know.  I kind of figured that there was some kind of 
     cameraderie.
GM - There's cameraderie.  You have to be a comrade first.
PR - You mean there's nobody who used to be on the East Coast syndicate here?
GM - Oh, there are a few.  You may run into them.   No doubt they went 
     through the same routine.  You haven't started out badly.  After all, 
     you did get hold of me.
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - I do some work for the Family now and again.  
PR - What, are you an accountant?
GM - No.  I organize things between the Family and those who are not in the 
     Family.  People such as yourself.
PR - Okay ... So what's the initiation?  What do I gotta do?
GM - Well, there is no initiation.  What kind of work did you do before?  
     Collections, kneecaps, what?
PR - [sighs]
GM - Did you do hits?
PR - Yes, I did hits.
GM - Do you have any specialties?  [pause]  Come on, give me a resume.  Sell 
     yourself.  Why should I give you the time of day?
PR - [laughs] Jesus Christ, I feel like I'm applying at a game store.  Uh ... 
GM - Come on, what can you do?  Why should I get hold of you?
PR - Okay.  Eight successful hits.  One not so successful, but that was 
     because somebody got to him before me.  Uh ... the latter of which I'm 
     wanted for.  And routine collections, people who don't pay their bets ... 
     you know, threaten them, and if they give me any lip, I break a bone.  
GM - From what I hear, East Coast has you as a straight guy.
PR - Yeah.
GM - So, if what did go down hadn't gone down, you'd still be out there?
PR - Mmm-hmm.
GM - We can safely say that it's through no fault of yours that you're out 
     here?
PR - Yes.
GM - I have a job for you, then.  There's a man ... well, I'd like him taken 
     care of.
PR - Taken care of as in, put out of the picture permanently--
GM - Yes.
PR - Or put out of the picture for a little while?
GM - Permanently.
PR - All right ...
GM - Now ... I need to be honest with you.  I don't quite have the full 
     go-ahead to do this.
PR - But you want me to do it anyway.
GM - Right.
PR - And what if it turns out that you don't get the go-ahead at all?  I get 
     to be a scapegoat?
GM - Well ... yes.
PR - Uh-huh.
GM - If you do it, and you have no trouble, everyone will be happy and there 
     will be no problem.  
PR - And if I do it and I have problems?
GM - Then you're going to get the shit.
PR - And whom do you want put out?
GM - You have no problem with doing this?
PR - Look--I'm down to forty bucks.  I don't give a shit who I kill.  
GM - It's a man who lives in Pacifica.  He's staying with his grandfather.
PR - You want his grandfather toasted, too?
GM - I don't care who gets in the way.  It's a suburb.  All I need you to do 
     is go out there, take care of him, and come back.  I have a car and an 
     address for you.  I can tell you more if you tell me whether you're 
     going to do it or not.
PR - Let me think.   Sure.
GM - Do you have weapons?
PR - I got a couple.
GM - Can you drive?
PR - Fairly well.
GM - Normally, this job would pay about 8k ...
PR - But for me? [laughs]
GM - I can give you three now, and I can give you up to eight if you get it 
     done.  I can give you more if it goes well.
PR - Do you want him shot, or beaten, or what?
GM - It doesn't matter.
PR - You don't care.
GM - I don't care.
PR - Any reason?  Should I give him a message before he goes off to see the 
     Heavenly Father, or what?
GM - No, he's a Tong runner, and we want him out of our hair.
PR - He's a Tong runner?  
GM - He's a netrunner.
PR - What's a Tong runner?
GM - The Triads.
PR - Oh, I see.  Okay.  So he's a Triad runner.  A little slope son-of-a-
     bitch.  And I suppose this is going to, like, bring the Triads down on 
     your head.
GM - No.  You know how it works.  We have the Yak to the south, and the Triads 
     to the East.  We are always skirmishing.  It just so happens that this 
     little runner is in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we have the 
     opportunity to take him out.
PR - Does he have security with him?  Is he gonna be guarded?  Is he privy to 
     ... ah, privileged information?
GM - What I'm going to do ... 
PR - Let's go feed the ducks.
GM - You move over to the duck pond.  I'm going to give you an address.  I 
     want you to be there at nine o'clock tonight or tomorrow night.  A guy 
     will be there, with a car.  You take the car and drive to another 
     address, which I will give you.  It will take you about forty-five 
     minutes.
PR - Will there be an automap in the car?
GM - Of course.  But I'll give you directions.  He gives you a description of 
     the guy.  The Tong runner is a little Chinese guy, about 5'4", 24 years 
     old ...
PR - [laughs] Hey.
GM - He's got black hair shaved in a bowl cut, a black circle buzzed into the 
     top of his head--
PR - Are we speaking English?
GM - Yeah.  But you're out by the duck pond, and whenever somebody comes near, 
     he quiets down.  The runner normally carries a pistol, a .38 automatic.  
     He is staying with his grandfather, who lives in a beachfront house in 
     Pacifica.  It's in a walled and gated compound.  There are two gated 
     vehicle entrances, and two gated pedestrian gates.  The residents are
     upper middle class, and are issued resident cards and ID stickers for 
     their cars.  Normally, Connolly says, the guards just wave cars through 
     after checking the sticker.
PR - So, you're going to put me in a car with a resident sticker and hope 
     they wave me through.
GM - Right.
PR - Want me to dress up in like a flowered shirt, or something?
GM - No.  They will wave you through.  Unless you're in a delivery van, or a 
     taxi, or you don't have a sticker, they'll wave you through.  He goes on.  
     He and his grandfather are the only ones living at the house.  The old 
     man is 84, and will probably not get in the way, but if he sees you, you 
     can kill him.  That is not a problem.  You are also free to make a little 
     noise, since it is a beach house and the lots are rather large.
PR - That won't be a problem.
GM - Do you have any questions?  The house has no security system that we're 
     aware of.
PR - Do you want proof of his demise?
GM - No, but we would like you to remove any decks or chips he has at the 
     house and bring them back with you.   Or, if that isn't possible, 
     destroy them.  Either one is fine.   You may be pressed for time.  His 
     grandfather is a professor of some sort, so he may have computers set up 
     as well.  You may want to destroy or take some of this as well, to cover 
     up the fact that the 'runner's deck is missing.
PR - Is his granddaddy into the Tong stuff, too?
GM - No. 
PR - No sweat.  You want it done today?
GM - Tonight or tomorrow night.
PR - Do I get front money?
GM - As I said, I can give you three now.
PR - Well, that's more than I got.
GM - Do you have a bank account open in Night City yet?
PR - I'd prefer cash.
GM - Do you want us to open an account for you?
PR - Would that be too much trouble?
GM - No.
PR - How long would it take?
GM - What time is it now?  Eleven o'clock?  We could have it open by noon.
PR - I get evicted at one [laughs].
GM - Well, then you'll have an hour to get to the bank.
PR - I'll tell you what.  Can you give me five hundred cash right now, and 
     open me an account with 2500 in it?
GM - Mmm-hmm.
PR - I'd be appreciative.
GM - Okay.  And you guys go over to an ATM in the front wall of the Hotel 
     Sugoi, where he withdraws the money for you.  As he's getting the money 
     out, you notice a small sign on the machine that says, "Warning!  
     Tampering with this machine may result in death by electrocution!"  And 
     it has the little lightning bolts next to the access panel, along with 
     the NCPD penal code.  He gives you the money.
PR - I put it away.  So, where do I meet you?  And do you know anywhere I can 
     get some clothes?
GM - He gives you an address and the name of a men's clothing store in Little 
     Italy.  The first address is down in the corner of the Combat Zone, by 
     the MallPlex.
PR - Tonight at four?
GM - Tonight or tomorrow night at nine.  Are you going to do it tonight?
PR - I'd like to do it as soon as possible.
GM - Tonight, then.  The address, he explains, is a warehouse next to a run-
     down hotel.  There will be a gentleman waiting there with a car.  You 
     can drive?
PR - I said yes.  [laughs]  I'm competent.  
GM - He shakes your hand, says he hopes you'll have a good day, and heads off d
     own the sidewalk toward the Combat Cab building.  You notice again, as 
     you shake his hand, that his fingers are knobby and twisted.
PR - I suppose my hands are pretty heavy.  [laughs]  I mean, it's probably 
     whoosh, whoosh.
GM - [laughs]  You get that momentum going, and you just can't stop.  
PR - "Johnny!"  Thud.  Sorry about that, man!
GM - Ow.  I suppose you go shopping now.
PR - Mmm-hmm.
GM - You go to a men's clothing store.  It has the kind of suits and such that 
     you'd normally wear; that is to say, Family-style--apparently Connolly 
     could guess what you wanted.  "Neat Fit," a men's boutique on the North 
     Side.  You go in and get fitted.  What are you buying?
PR - I'm getting a pair of black leather gloves.
GM - Ties?
PR - And about five ties, and maybe a couple more shirts.
GM - Spend as much as you want to spend.  Do you want good gloves, or regular 
     ones?  Good ones will run you about forty bucks.
PR - I'll get good ones, and five ties at what?  Twenty bucks each?
GM - Yep.
PR - And some more dress shirts, at like, fifteen bucks each.  That's about a 
     hundred and eighty.
GM - You have the feeling, as you shop, that Connolly is probably doing this 
     hit to earn brownie points with somebody.  It's probably self-initiated, 
     so that when you're done, he can go to his local don and say--
PR - "Look what I did."
GM - Exactly.  "Remember that Tong kid who caused us all that trouble last 
     spring?  Well, I took care of him for you, and here's the guy who did it 
     for me."  And then they'll all clap you on the back and shake hands.
PR - And if I fuck it up, he's just going to forget about me.
GM - Yep.
PR - So I'd better not fuck it up.
GM - Yep.
PR - Well, I'll go back home.
GM - Are you going to renew your room?
PR - One more day, please.
GM - She's happy to give it to you.  This is the same lady who was on the 
     desk the first day, and she seems a little unsettled by you as you give 
     her the money.
PR - Why?
GM - You don't know.   She wasn't bothered by you when you first came in, on 
     the first day, and she was fine when you went for lunch, but when you 
     came back, she was acting rather odd.  As she is now.
PR - Hmmm.  Do I have to sign again?
GM - Are you paying in cash again?
PR - Yes.
GM - Yes.
PR - I'll go back upstairs.  And check my door.   Does it look tampered with?
GM - No.  The maid has apparently been in here.
PR - I'll check for my gun.
GM - It's here.   
PR - Take it out, check it.
GM - It's fine.  Things have been subtly moved around, but that may have been 
     the maid.
PR - I don't think so.
GM - Everything has been cleaned.
PR - I'll take the submachine gun out, assemble it, and put the silencer on.  
GM - All right.  The sky is clearing up, and you see some sun through the 
     dingy little window as you do this.   It looks like it's going to be hot 
     tomorrow.
PR - This submachinegun's so awsome.
GM - Why?  What are the stats on it?
PR - It's got a +2 weapons accuracy on it already, +2 more for my smartlink, 
     +1 for my targeting, +1 for low impedance cables--
GM - So, six so far.   Jesus.  What's the capacity on it?
PR - Fifty rounds, with 25 per round.
GM - So you could do full auto for two rounds, and then have to reload.  At 
     least it's not like that Uzi, where you lose your clip with one spray.  
     It's like, braaappp.  "Wait!  Uh ..."  So,
	 what's your normal hit?
PR - Twenty-two.
GM - Jesus!
PR - [laughs]
GM - "See that pigeon over there?"
PR - Braaaapp!  
GM - You're more accurate with that than you are with your pistol.
PR - Yeah, it's my main gun.  It's what I do all my hits with.  And, at point-
     blank range, it's 9mm, with dual-purpose, so it does ... thirteen ... 
     plus six more . . . nineteen point-blank, to unarmored flesh.  If it's 
     through armor, it's half damage. 
GM - Well, yeah, but it's designed to go through armor, too.
PR - It's an awesome little gun.
GM - I agree.
PR - Around eight I'll get a cab, and go to the address he gave me.  How much 
     is cab fare?
GM - Forty bucks.  The scab cab fare was less than the regular cabs.
PR - I'll look for scab cabs from now on [laughs].
GM - But it gets expensive when you take cabs all the time.  You might want 
     to pick up a car.  Maybe they'll give you a car.
PR - I'm taking my submachinegun, my pistol . . . my coat.  
GM - 21st Street and Hollywood.  There is a warehouse there, and a parking 
     lot next to it, which apparently belongs to a run-down hotel next door.  
     There are quite a few cars in the lot.  The warehouse is big, broad, 
     and empty.  You know that building by the pizza place next to your work?  
     How all the windows are broken out?  It's like that.  People, probably 
     homeless and gangbangers, are hanging out inside, and you can smell trash 
     burning inside and see through the doorless entrance that there are what 
     look like camps and cardboard boxes set up inside.  It's not a good 
     neighborhood.  Two blocks farther south, and you're in the Zone.  There 
     is a small office door next to the gaping front door.  The office door 
     is intact, and the small window next to it is barred and still has glass 
     in it.  Whoever is using this building has just taken the office, and 
     abandoned the rest of the building to derelicts.
PR - I'll knock on the office door.
GM - The bolts go back, the chains go off, and a guy opens the door.  He is 
     about 6'4", with white or extremely light blonde hair spiked up in a 
     Billy Idol-esque style.  It's getting to the point where it's almost too 
     long to be spiked up any more.  He has a pair of jacks in his right 
     temple, and they've been dust-plugged with a tiny silver-and-turquoise 
     thing that's about the size of a tie tack. He's wearing dusty motorcycle 
     boots, a dirty white T-shirt, and a pair of oil-stained jeans.  He looks 
     down at you.  He's about twenty.  How tall are you?
PR - About six foot.  
GM - Come on, man!
PR - I go inside.  
GM - He closes the door and locks it up again.  There's a scarred desk and a 
     creaky swivel chair on a bare, stained, concrete floor, and a bare light 
     bulb hanging from the ceiling.  You're Sal, right?
PR - No.  I smile.  [pause]  Yes, I'm Sal.
GM - Jesus, man, don't fuckin' do that.
PR - [laughs] 
GM - I'm fuckin' nervous enough as it is.  
PR - Okay, where's the car?
GM - It's in the parkin' lot outside.
PR - You got any more instructions for me?
GM - Yeah.
PR - You got a credchip?
GM - Yeah.  I got keys, too.  Uh ... 'Less you wanna jack it.
PR - What?
GM - Uh ... plug into it and drive it through neural interface.
PR - I don't have a vehicle link.
GM - Cool.  I'll just give ya the keys.  He told me some more shit to tell 
     ya about the compound.  He says if the guards don't wave you through ... 
     He gives you a resident's ID card.
PR - Is there a picture of me on it?
GM - It's got your picture on it.
PR - Where the fuck did he get this?
GM - It's a bad picture.  It looks like a mug shot, with the background 
     redone.  He tells you the address, and gives you more complete 
     directions.  He also explains that you'll be driving for about an hour 
     both ways, and that you are to drop the car off at an address by the
     college when you've finished.  If you bring back any shit, leave it in 
     the car.  And Connolly wants you to give him a call, and tell him when 
     you're back, so he knows when ta pick the car up.
PR - What, stuff it under the seat?
GM - Nah, put it in the trunk.  It doesn't matter.  It ain't gonna get broken 
     into.  It's a good car.
PR - Okay.  That it?
GM - That's it.
PR - Uh ... 
GM - Well, go on, get outta here.
PR - What about my chip?
GM - He gives you your shit.
PR - So I have how much more?  Twenty-five grand?
GM - Twenty five grand?  Two k!  Because he gave you three k out of eight, 
     and five hundred when you met him.  So you have $2500.
PR - [flipping pages]  Okay.
GM - He says, If shit goes down, you might as well keep the car.  [laughs]
PR - Thanks for the vote of confidence.
GM - He lets you out.
PR - I go find the car.
GM - He locks the door behind you.  The car is parked in the hotel lot.  It's 
     a much nicer car than the ones around it, so you naturally head for it, 
     and you can confirm that it's the right car by comparing the seal on the 
     ID card he gave you to the seal on the ID sticker on the windshield.  
     It's a 2021 Lexus.
PR - Is there a security system?
GM - Just a high-security lock.
PR - What year is it, anyway?
GM - 2022.  The usual.
PR - Is this our year?
GM - Yeah.  The car is dark blue, and all the windows are tinted.  As on the 
     cab, there are no exterior door handles--just handholds to pull the door 
     open when it's been unlocked with the remote key.
PR - I do the key thing and get in.
GM - You get in.  The interior is plush, midnight blue.  The dashboard is one 
     big LED display, and though there's a v-link, there's also a regular 
     steering wheel and gear shift lever and other normal hands-on driving 
     accessories.  The seat molds itself to your butt when you sit down.
PR - Before I get in, I'm going to do my hands.
GM - Put your gloves on, right.  As you do this, you notice that the car 
     smells fairly new.
PR - It's probably a rental.
GM - The residents' sticker is in the lower left corner of the windshield, 
     and there's another one on the back window.  The name of the complex is 
     "Bayview Heights."  
PR - Start it up.
GM - It starts with a purr and runs almost silently.
PR - Pull out, and head towards the freeway.  
GM - In Night City proper, the traffic sucks.  It's getting on towards nine-
     thirty, though, and as you get on the freeway, things lighten up until 
     you're moving towards Pacifica at a pretty good clip.  Lemme show you 
     where you're going.  [flips pages]  You're going down the freeway to
     Pacifica, through Rancho Coronado.
PR - Okay.
GM - So, you drive for about an hour, and get off the freeway in Pacifica.  
     You exit into a nice, suburban area--these aren't cookie-cutter houses, 
     like in South Night City, but large, single-family homes in a hilly, 
     wooded area.
PR - There's trees?
GM - There's trees.  They're probably bio-engineered, though.  Their sameness 
     is too perfect to be natural.  Quite a few other cars, too, though not 
     as nice as yours.  There are also a lot of sleek, black, bubble-shaped  
     security cars cruising and skipping around like drops of oil on a griddle.
     You don't see any foot patrols, just the little black cars.  The houses 
     are laid back a distance from the road, on fairly large lots.  You head 
     towards the coast, and go by some cute little outdoor malls and gated 
     parks and tennis courts, and then find yourself on a wide, four-lane 
     road with a big, grassy strip of trees in the center.  The road goes 
     toward the coast, then curves to the right before it gets there, and the 
     community you're looking for is nestled all around the curve, with one 
     of the vehicle gates right on the curve itself.
PR - Do I know this Chink bastard's name?
GM - Nope.  You didn't ask.
PR - Oh, well.  I'll pull into the entrance.  
GM - The walls around the complex are brick, eight feet high, with ornamental 
     iron spikes on top.  There is one guardhouse here, with one guard in it.  
     A big steel bar comes down across each side of the guardhouse, one bar 
     for incoming traffic and one bar for outgoing traffic.  The outgoing bar 
     is up.  As you pull in, there are two cars ahead of you.  The guard 
     glances at the sticker on the first car's windshield, writes down the 
     license plate number and the time on a clipboard, and the bar goes up to 
     let the car through.  After the first car goes through, he just leaves 
     the gate up to let the second car by.  This car stops, and the window 
     goes down, and the person inside says something to the guard, who laughs 
     and nods and waves him through after jotting down its plate and the time.  
     When he leans out of the guardhouse to talk to the second car's driver, 
     you get a good look at him; he's a guard.  What can you say?  He's got a 
     loose gray uniform on, and a cap with the same logo as the one on the 
     residents' sticker, but he has no visible weapons.  You pull up.  He 
     looks at your sticker, looks at your license plate, makes a notation, 
     and goes like that [waves].
PR - I drive in.
GM - The guard starts to put the bar down after you go by.  Another car pulls 
     in behind you, and he stops it midway down, raises it again, and starts 
     to go through the rigamarole.  Meanwhile, you pull into the housing 
     development.  Closer to the wall, the houses are smaller and closer 
     together, but they're still on fairly big, well-manicured lots, usually 
     fenced off by little ornamental walls.  Towards the coast, the houses 
     get larger and more isolated.  The style here runs toward wood, or faux 
     wood, ranch-style two-and-three story houses, kind of an idealized 
     country-farmhouse atmosphere.  You're going to a house backed up almost
     against the wall of the development; its back property line will end at 
     the wall itself.   It's two houses away from having an actual beachfront 
     lot.  It has a decent view, though, and there are a lot of big shade 
     trees scattered over a wide lawn.  The house is a bit back from the road.  
     It's a blue clapboard house, with gables and little eaves, and a few 
     steps running up to the front door.  A curving gravel driveway runs up 
     to the front porch.  There's a screen door, and windows that you push up, 
     and a separate garage.   A wooden fence, not a picket fence, but a split-
     rail fence, surrounds the yard and runs down to the sidewalk.  A white 
     car, the equivalent of a little Honda Civic, is parked on the drive.  A 
     few lights are on inside.  It's around ten-thirty right now.
PR - I'll park across the street.  
GM - You pull in across the street.  The streetlights are on, and the street 
     is like a tunnel, over-shadowed with absolutely huge shade trees.  
PR - I'll park out of the light.
GM - All right.  There are enough cars parked on the street for your car to 
     be unremarkable.  There aren't any lights on in the house you're parking 
     in front of.  A well-dressed couple heads by, on the side of the street 
     that the Tong guy's house is on, walking their dog.  The night is warm, 
     and you can clearly hear them talking as they pass by.  Off beyond the
     houses, you can see spotlights crossing and recrossing the beach, and
     gleaming on what looks like a raised monowire barricade a ways out to
     sea.
PR - I'll wait for them to pass.  I'll click the submachinegun to three-round 
     burst, and get the wire so that it's plugged into my wrist, but don't 
     plug it into the gun yet.  Sling the gun.  Get out, and make sure the 
     door's locked.  And walk across the street.
GM - You walk across the street.  The couple has walked in front of the house 
     and continued on down the street.
PR - I don't look at them.
GM - They don't look at you.  You can hear them laughing and talking, 
     complaining about the weather.  They're very relaxed.  The neighborhood
     seems extremely complacent, and the area security is either unbelivably 
     lax, or you've slid in between two patrols, or both.  I can sketch the 
     house for you, but I don't know if you need it ... ?
PR - No, that's okay.
GM - Are you going to the front door?  You can also go around to the side.
PR - I'll go around to the side.
GM - You go up to the house, and go up the driveway to the walkway that 
     connects to the porch.  When you get to the porch, you go around to the 
     right and turn the corner of the house, stepping into the grass.  They've 
     got a nice, lush lawn that comes almost all the way up to the house.  You 
     can see little hutches poking up through the lawn in various places, 
     probably for automated lawn care remotes.  Right next to the house there 
     is an ornamental hedge.  The front porch ends at the corner.  There are 
     two windows along this side of the house, and through light lace 
     curtains, judging from the blue TV light shining out, the first looks on 
     to a living room area.  The second one looks into the kitchen.  There is 
     a normal, yellow light shining through this window.  When you round the 
     next corner, you see another kitchen window, and a back door.  It's a 
     Dutch door, and the top half is open.  You can hear a TV playing now.  
PR - I'll go up to the back door that looks into the kitchen, and look inside.
GM - The light spills out onto the lawn.  There's also a small shed back here.  
     The light isn't very bright.  There's a kitchen table in the center of 
     the small room, a refrigerator in the left-hand corner, with a dishwasher 
     next to it.  Straight ahead is the door to the living room.  You can also 
     look through the counter at the far end of the room; there's a stove there,
     and cabinets above it, and open space leading to the living room between 
     the stovetop and the cabinet bottoms.  [indicating the layout of the 
     kitchen with her hands] The living room is dim.  You can hear faint music 
     playing from upstairs--it sounds like some kind of industrial shit, but 
     it's not very loud.  You can also smell that food was recently cooked in 
     here, something spicy and meaty.  
PR - Is there anybody in the kitchen?
GM - You don't see anybody.
PR - I'll try the knob.
GM - It's unlocked.  It opens inward.
PR - Okay.  Pull the gun out.
GM - The top half of the door is already open, so you push the bottom half in 
     and walk into the kitchen.
PR - I close it again, as quietly as I can.
GM - Are you closing both of them, or just the bottom one?
PR - Um ... Do they both hook together?
GM - Yes, there's a little latch.
PR - I'll close them both.
GM - You close the doors and push the latch down that holds them together.  
     There's a small square window in the top half of the door, with a little 
     white lace curtain framing it.  You come into the kitchen--you've got a 
     counter that goes around, the table, the opening into the living room, 
     and another door to your right that's probably a pantry [indicating all 
     this with her hands].
PR - I'll take the plug and stick it into my wrist.  Put my targeting monocle 
     up.
GM - You can hear a TV playing in the next room.
PR - [laughs]
GM - The TV is tuned to some foreign channel.
PR - Is there any other way out of the kitchen?
GM - That one door that leads to the pantry, and the one you're standing in 
     front of.  Then there's the doorway to the living room, straight ahead.   
     In fact, looking through the kitchen door, you can see the front door 
     and the porch across the living room.
PR - Look into the living room.
GM - The living room is scattered with sofas and chairs, and a coffee table.  
     The TV is along the right-hand wall, between you and the front door.  
     There's a recliner, various potted plants.
PR - Is there anyone in there?
GM - The recliner is tilted back, as though someone was sitting in it, 
     watching TV, but no one is in it.  Between the TV and you is a hallway 
     that leads into the house to your right.  Right as you come around the 
     corner to go into the hallway are stairs, leading up; the hallway runs
     next to them.
PR - This is a two-story house, right.  Okay.  Well, there's nobody in the 
     living room, and nobody in the pantry?
GM - No.  You didn't check it.
PR - I'll look real fast.
GM - There's no one in there.
PR - Where does the hallway lead to?
GM - There's a door under the stairs, to your right, and two doors on the left 
     side.  One of the left-hand doors is closed, and there's a light coming 
     out from under it.  The other two are open, and they're dark.  [pause]  
     One of them's probably a bedroom, or spare room.  One of 'em's probably 
     a bathroom.  And one of them's probably an office, or den.
PR - Is that the one with the light?
GM - It could be, yeah.
PR - Tiptoe ... is it carpeting?
GM - Uh-huh.
PR - Okay, so my shoes won't click.
GM - Uh-uh.
PR - Go down the hall.
GM - The hallway is dark, and so is the living room.  The only light you're 
     getting here is the blue light from the TV, and the light coming out 
     from under the door.
PR - Go up to the door that has the light coming out from under it, and 
     listen.  
GM - You hear water running, and you can see from the gap between the door 
     and the floor that there isn't any carpet in there, so it's probably the 
     bathroom.
PR - Sounds like there's somebody in there?
GM - Mmm-hmm.
PR - Did I hear any breathing?
GM - You can hear somebody bumbling around in there.  A drawer slams shut, 
     and you hear somebody mutter something.
PR - Does it sound like an old man?
GM - It sounds like an old man, yes.  Complaining to himself about his 
     dentures, or some such.  The water turns off.  You hear fumbling at the 
     doorknob, and the lock clicks.
PR - He's gonna come out?
GM - It's like he's working on unlocking it, but he's got old hands.
PR - Okay, I'll back up, and basically ... I've got the silencer on, and if 
     the guy's upstairs, listening to music as loud as it is--
GM - He won't be able to hear this.
PR - He's not gonna hear shit.
GM - Okay.
PR - I'll switch to single shot.
GM - Which side of the door are you going to be on?
PR - The one closer to the living room.
GM - The bathroom door opens this way [indicates], so as he comes out of the 
     bathroom and heads toward the living room, you're going to be facing 
     each other.  Is that what you want?
PR - Yeah.  He's going to walk out right into me, and as soon as I see him ... 
     I'm going to pop him.  [laughs]
GM - After some more fumbling, the bathroom light goes off, and an elderly 
     Chinese gentleman steps out into the hall.  He's got boxer shorts on, and 
     that's it.
PR - [laughs]  This is sad.
GM - He's got wispy white hair.
PR - [laughing]  This is really sad.
GM - [laughing]  He doesn't have many teeth, and he's kind of sucking on them 
     as he comes out the door.
PR - [laughing]
GM - And you can see his sunken chest more clearly than you'd like.  He comes 
     shuffling out.  He has paper slippers on his feet.  He's muttering and 
     grumbling to himself.  He turns, and sees you--
PR - How far away are we from each other?
GM - About this close.
PR - So this is point-blank range?
GM - Yeah, I'd say so.
PR - So, you know the difficulties for this kind of thing?  What, about 
     twelve?
GM - Twelve, yeah.  He's old, he's been surprised, he's at point-blank range.  
     Just don't botch.
PR - Anything but a one, please.  [rolls, laughs]  Okay.  Point-blank damage 
     on this thing is ... nineteen.
GM - He's going to die.  Or he's gonna be dying.  [laughs]
PR - [laughs] What?  I'm doing a job here.  [laughs]
GM - You're all, "This is terrible!  This is awful!" [laughing]
PR - [laughing]  It is!  It's evil!  Guy comes in, goes, "Huh?"
GM - Braaapp!  [laughing]
PR - [laughing]  Oh, Jesus.
GM - [laughing]  You're so mean.
PR - [laughing]  Sorry.
GM - He's just this old fart [laughs].  Okay, okay.  Fuck.  He was stepping 
     backwards, back into the bathroom as it was.  He doesn't make it.  He 
     kind of ends up going sideways and hitting the jamb, and then sliding 
     down into the door.
PR - The thing about these rounds ... [laughs] ... they've got this tungsten 
     core, so they go in and make this huge wound cavity, and then the 
     tungsten core comes out the other end.
GM - That's pretty gross.  [laughs]  So, he winds up on the bathroom floor, 
     propped against the door in kind of a half-sitting position.  There is 
     blood everywhere.  His mouth is open, and his cheeks are sunken.
PR - Are his eyes open?
GM - Uh-huh.
PR - Reach down and feel for his pulse.
GM - He's not blinking.  He has a faint pulse, and it stops as you feel for 
     it.
PR - Good.  So, the bathroom light's on?
GM - It was on, and he turned it off as he started to come out.
PR - And the other two doors?
GM - The other two doors are open and dark.
PR - Go to low-lite.  Anybody in there?
GM - No.  The next door down is a spare bedroom, and the door across the hall, 
     under the stairs, is a den that's been turned into some kind of workshop.  
     There are bookcases, a desk, a pair of chairs, and a table spread with 
     all kinds of technical gizmos and goodies along the far wall under the 
     window.  It's got computer monitors, and electrical testing equipment 
     and so forth.  There is also a cyberarm, from about here on down 
     [indicating] lying on the desk, with a lamp trained over it and various 
     probes and stuff attached to it.
PR - Okay, I'll go to the stairs.  They carpeted as well?
GM - No, there's a thin runner that goes up the center. 
PR - I'll creep up.  He's got his industrial up pretty loud.  And if it goes, 
     like, to switch between songs, I'll stop until the next song comes on.
GM - It plays for a while--
PR - Just be my luck if the fucker gets hungry about now, and decides to come 
     downstairs for a snack.
GM - As you head further on up the stairs, you can hear water running.  
PR - Up here?
GM - Yeah, through the pipes.
PR - Like he might be in his bathroom?
GM - Like there's a shower running, or water running for a bath.
PR - All right.
GM - And, as you get to the top of the stairs, it sounds like the music comes 
     to the end of the CD, and it stops.  And you can definitely hear water 
     running now.
PR - Is the water coming from a bedroom?  Like there's a bathroom in there, 
     too?
GM - It could be.  There could be an adjoining bath.
PR - Are any of the doors open?
GM - Yes, they're all open.  
PR - Are lights coming out of any of them?
GM - No, when you get up to the top of the stairs, you've got one room to 
     your left, no rooms straight ahead, and then a row of rooms back around 
     to your right.  So, you come up the stairs, and there's a landing, and 
     you're facing the side wall of the house.  There's a sort of balcony 
     overlooking the stairs to the right, and a row of rooms over there.  The 
     room to your right is dark.  The two doors to your right are similar.  
     The last room on your left, in the far back corner of the house, has no 
     door at all--it's just an arch, leading into a large, well-lit room.  
     Probably the master bedroom.  The music was coming from back there.
PR - So the kid's living in the master bedroom?
GM - Maybe.  Either that, or he's using his grandfather's stereo.  You can 
     tell that the noise of the water is coming from in there, so maybe he's 
     using his grandfather's shower, too.
PR - I see.  I'll keep low-lite on while it's dark, and check each of the 
     rooms.
GM - The first room is a storage room, with boxes and shit.  The next room, 
     the first one on your left, is another bedroom, but this one's been lived 
     in.  It looks like a kid's bedroom that an adult has moved back into.  
     There are suitcases on the floor, and clothes lying in them, like he's 
     been living out of them and hasn't bothered to unpack.
PR - This looks like the kid's room?
GM - Yeah.  There's computer shit piled up on a table against the wall, along 
     with a big rack filled with chips, most of which have bright, neon labels 
     stuck to them.  Also, there are animated posters and such on the walls, 
     mostly Chinese pop stars and anime drawings.
PR - Check the other rooms, leaving the master bedroom for last.  The coup de 
     grace.
GM - The next room down is yet another bedroom.  Someone may have lived in 
     here as recently as a year ago, but they haven't been in here since, 
     though their personal items are still lying where they left them.  
     It was an adult's room.  And then there's the master bedroom.  Instead of 
     a corner, there's an arch bisecting where the two back walls meet, and 
     the bedroom goes around the corner of the house in an L.
PR - Go in.
GM - You walk in.  The music is coming from the right side of the room, where 
     there is a large stereo set up, along with a bureau with a big mirror 
     and a door leading to a closet in the right-hand corner of the room.  
     From what you can see of the decor, this is probably the grandfather's 
     room--there are a lot of dried flower arrangements and fans and little 
     oil paintings.  There are papers spread out over the bed, which is made.  
     The bed is in the center of the room, almost directly opposite the door.  
     Next to the head of the bed, to the left, is the bathroom door.  It's 
     open, and there is steam coming out of it.
PR - By the way, low-lite goes off as soon as I get in here.
GM - All right.  Along the left-hand wall is a small parlor-ish area, with easy 
     chairs and a coffee table, and more flimsies spread out all over.  It's 
     almost like a secondary den.  As you step into the room, you see a guy, 
     probably the guy you're looking for, come out of the closet with a towel 
     wrapped around his waist.  [rolls dice]  He doesn't see you.   He goes to 
     the master bed, looks underneath, and digs around a while before pulling 
     out a pair of flip-flops.  He throws them on the bed, then walks around 
     the end of the bed, without seeing you--
PR - I've basically got the gun like this [indicates]--
GM - And goes into the bathroom.
PR - Is he wet?
GM - No.
PR - So he hasn't gotten into the shower yet.
GM - No.  Apparently he hasn't seen you because you're standing in darkness, 
     and the room is brightly lit.
PR - Plus I'm dressed in black.
GM - That would help.
PR - He's not expecting anything.  Okay, I'll wait for him to get in the 
     shower.
GM - You hear a glass door open, then shut.
PR - I'll wait a couple seconds, then move farther into the room.  Um ... I'll 
     look in the walk-in closet.  Is there anything in there?
GM - Just clothes.
PR - Anything that he might have been wearing?
GM - Yeah.
PR - Poke around in here with my foot.
GM - Not all the clothes in here could belong to the old man.  They don't look 
     like the kid's, either, although they look about his size; they're the 
     wrong style.  They're all wrapped up in plastic and such.  It looks like 
     he was going through them, picking out what he liked, because there are 
     some suits draped over a chair with the plastic removed.
PR - I'm looking for a gun, maybe.
GM - You don't see one.
PR - I come out.
GM - Are you going in the bathroom?
PR - Do a quick scan of the rest of the master bedroom.  Any nooks and 
     crannies?
GM - No.  None that anyone could hide in.
PR - Is the window open?
GM - No.
PR - Go to the bathroom.
GM - The bathroom door, is, as I said, open.  It's pushed back against the 
     wall.  There's a small window directly opposite you.  This is a big 
     bathroom, almost as big as your mom's bathroom.  The sink and bath area 
     is to your left.
PR - Is the toilet before the shower?
GM - The toilet is between the sink and the shower.  The sink is on your 
     immediate left, next to the door.  The toilet is just past the left-hand 
     corner, on the left-hand wall.  The shower is in the corner of the room, 
     and the window in the wall opposite you.  There are towel racks on the 
     right-hand wall, and a cabinet with shower supplies and such.  The 
     shower is a big, stand-up, glassed in stall.  There is no bathtub.  The 
     glass runs from the floor almost to the ceiling, and it's frosted.  
     Hanging on one of the empty towel racks is a pair of slacks, a dress 
     shirt, a tie, a pair of underwear, and an empty shoulder holster.  A pair 
     of shoes are lined up next to it.
PR - Is there a form in the shower?  Washing?
GM - Yes.  Gonna shoot him through the glass?
PR - No.  If I shoot him through the glass, it'll just get armor-piercing, 
     and I don't wanna do that.  Can I get to the toilet without him possibly 
     seeing me?
GM - You can try.
PR - Well, I'm going to button up my coat, and walk over to the toilet, 
     nonchalantly, and flush it.
GM - [laughs]  Okay.
PR - [laughing]  Basically, wait for him to come out.  You know, when you 
     flush it, it'll get either really cold or really hot.  I'm not sure 
     which one.
GM - It usually gets really hot.  
PR - That's what I'm relying on.
GM - It gets extremely hot.  Which sucks if you're standing in it.  You walk 
     over and flush the toilet.  From what you can see of the shape in the 
     stall, there's enough room in there for whoever's in there to move out 
     of the spray, which is what he does.  He yells something angry in
     Chinese--it sounds like he's telling his grandfather not to flush the 
     damned toilet--and stands there for a minute, apparently waiting for the 
     water to go back to normal.
PR - Okay.
GM - Make an Awareness roll.
PR - Sixteen?
GM - Okay.  He's standing unnaturally stiff, kind of like a rabbit.  You know, 
     when they're frozen, waiting for you to go away before they'll move.  
     You think he sees you.
PR - Well, if it's frosted glass, he'll just see a big, black shape.
GM - Yeah.  When he moved out of the spray, he saw somebody standing there, 
     and he's not sure who it is.  He says something in Chinese, kind of 
     questioning.  And then he takes his hand, and wipes away the steam on 
     the glass.  It's still frosted, so he can't make out who you are, but you 
     see a face appear, briefly, in the wiped-off space.  He looks for a sec,
     then scrambles backwards.  And then he says something in Chinese again, 
     which sounds anxious.  And then he says, in English, Grandfather?  He 
     turns the shower off.
PR - [laughing]  Come on, kid.  [pause]  Are people likely to take their guns 
     in the shower with them?
GM - You don't think so.  Unless he's really paranoid.  He is a Tong runner, 
     so he could be, but you don't see it in his hand.
PR - I'll just wait.
GM - His hand comes toward the latch to the door, and he turns the handle, 
     opening it a little bit.  But what he does, is he pulls it open so that 
     he can stick his head past the edge of the door, and look and see what's 
     out there without exposing his whole body.  
PR - But I can still see his head?
GM - Yeah, you can see him fine.  You assume that you could shoot him through 
     the glass if you wanted to.  But he seems to be acting like the stall's 
     affording him more protection than it actually is.  He has that false 
     sense of security, "I'm in the shower, so you can't shoot me until I 
     come out."
PR - Yeah, I see.  I clear my throat.
GM - He puts his hands out of the door, where you can see them.  He has plugs
     in his left wrist, capped with black plastic disks.
PR - Come on.
GM - He sticks his head around, and looks upset, and comes out.  He says, 
     Ah ... ah ... I have money.
PR - [sighs, motions with his hand]
GM - He turns around.  
PR - Get down on your knees and pray to the wall, there.
GM - He gets down on his knees.  
PR - Braaappp!
GM - Okay.
PR - Three round burst.  As soon as he's on his knees, I shoot him.  Is this 
     still point-blank?
GM - Hell, yes.  Just don't fumble.
PR - No problem.  Twenty . . . six.
GM - That's gonna be a lot of damage.
PR - Well, that's what?  Nineteen to three different locations?
GM - Yeah.  Roll to see where you hit him.
PR - Do you want extensive hit location, or do you want general?
GM - General.
PR - Uh ... left leg ... torso ... right arm.  Pop, pop, pop--like that 
     [indicates].
GM - Yeah, you go straight up across.  He falls forward onto the file, and 
     the blood sprays into the shower and starts going down the drain.  It 
     splatters on the walls, too, and runs down because of the steam.  
PR - He doesn't move, does he?
GM - He doesn't move.  You think he's dead. 
PR - If he's not fuckin' dead, he's superhuman.  [laughs]  If he's not dead, 
     he'll be dead in a minute.  I'll just watch him for a minute.
GM - If you'd been shot with that many bullets, you'd be dead.
PR - I'll watch him for two or three minutes, until the blood stops pumping.
GM - It stops, shortly.
PR - Okay.  Check his clothes.
GM - What are you looking for, specifically?
PR - Wallet.
GM - He's got a wallet in the back pocket of his slacks.
PR - Pull it out.  Anything else that looks interesting?
GM - No.  A couple chips and a couple extra bullets for a .38.  Ball round.
PR - Take the chips, stuff them in his wallet, put the wallet in my coat 
     pocket.
GM - You gonna look in it--
PR - [shakes his head]
GM - Or just take it?  Okay.  
PR - Shut the light off, close the bathroom door.  I'm going to do a quick 
     sweep of the master bedroom, see if there's anything in here that looks 
     interesting.  I'm looking for a cyber-deck, in particular.
GM - No, you don't see one up here.
PR - Okay, I'm going to leave, and shut the light off in the master bedroom.  
     Go into his room, turn on the light.
GM - In here, on the desk, is his deck, as I said, and the chiprack, and 
     various printouts.
PR - All righty.  Does he have a dufflebag around here anywhere?
GM - You could empty one out.
PR - I'll do that.  Get the deck, wrap the cords around it, throw it in.  Get 
     the chips, and sweep them into the dufflebag.  Anything else of interest?
GM - Nope.  You don't see any stashes of cash or drugs or anything lying out 
     in the open.  It's mostly computer stuff.
PR - Check under his mattress.
GM - Some glossy porn magazines.
PR - Throw them in the dufflebag.  [laughs]  Um ... check the closet.
GM - More clothes.   Some of them are hanging up, but most of them are tossed 
     in there.  He has about eighteen pairs of shoes crammed in here.  
PR - Rich kids.  Zip up the duffel.  Are there any laptop computers in here 
     at all?
GM - No, but you saw some downstairs, in the workshop area.
PR - I'll shut his light off, close the door, go downstairs.  Basically, I'm 
     shutting all the lights off as I go, and switching to low-lite.  
GM - The dead guy is still lying in the bathroom downstairs.
PR - Hmph.  Ignore him.  
GM - Down here, there's the spare bedroom and the den.  The den is where the 
     computers and stuff was.
PR - I'm going to go in there, then.  
GM - There's another deck in here, a bigger and possibly more expensive one.  
     There are more chips, too.
PR - Okay, put it in the duffel, along with the chips.
GM - There are also several laptops, linked together, and a couple of 
     mainframes or network servers or something, and a really big monstrosity 
     that looks like HAL.
PR - Are they off?
GM - Everything's off in here, except for two or three of the testing 
     machines.
PR - Any disks or chips or anything?
GM - Yes, lots.
PR - I'm taking as much as I can.
GM - You have more than enough to fill the bag.
PR - Zip it all up.  All the laptops and stuff that's everywhere else ... 
GM - Gonna shoot them? 
PR - They said, trash the place.
GM - Yep.
PR - Big mainframe first.  Pop.  And then put a bullet in each of the other 
     computers.  Not through the screen, because there isn't usually anything 
     in there, but through the keyboard, or the hard drives.   [pause]  So, 
     how many bullets am I going to waste?  I'm doing single shots--pow, pow, 
     pow.
GM - Six.
PR - Total?
GM - Yeah.
PR - Shut the light off, and, avoiding the blood, step into the living room.  
     Turn off the TV.  There's a light on in the kitchen, right?
GM - Right.  There's one light on.
PR - The front door's locked, right?
GM - You think so.
PR - I'll go check it.
GM - It's unlocked.   So is the screen door.
PR - I'll close it and lock it.  Go back to the kitchen, and shut the light 
     off in here. 
GM - It's a single light, hanging over the table, with a fan shade.  Going to 
     the back door?
PR - Is it a gas stove?
GM - Electric, sorry.
PR - That's okay.  Go to the back door, make sure it's locked, go outside and 
     pull it shut behind me.
GM - As you close the door, there is a small white cat walking around on the 
     step outside.  It sees you and runs away, around the corner of the house.
PR - Huh.  Go back around the way I came.  Try to stay in the shadows.
GM - In the same general area that you walked when you came in?
PR - Yeah.  Put the gun away.  The gun disappears.
GM - You walk around the corner, crunching through the wet grass.
PR - Walk straight towards my car, open the door, and get in.  No, actually, 
     I'll open the trunk before I get in.
GM - There are two cardboard boxes in the trunk, both sealed.  There's a spare 
     in here, too.
PR - They're none of my business.  I'll put the whole duffel in the trunk, and 
     close it up, then go back around to the front of the car and get in, and 
     start the car up and drive back out.
GM - You leave.  You drive through the security gate, which is open, and you 
     go right out.  As you drive past the gatehouse, you see the guard 
     writing down your plate and the time that you left.  You get on the 
     freeway and head for Night City.  You get back around eleven-thirty.
PR - I'll go to wherever they said to drop the car off.
GM - This is a different address.  It's down by the college.  It's a parking 
     garage; you drive in, pay for a ticket from the automated ticket machine, 
     and park.  They wanted you to park on the second floor, but it didn't 
     matter which space.  You leave the car there.
PR - Go outside, and see about hailing a cab.  Is that possible?
GM - Yeah.  You get one easily.  This is a big, checkered cab, the kind that 
     seats five, designed for picking up six to eight drunken college 
     students.
PR - Tell him to take me to Cesar's.
GM - He takes you.
PR - How much?
GM - Thirty-five.
PR - Pay him in cash.
GM - Are you going to walk a ways before getting the cab, or get it right from 
     the parking garage?
PR - I'll walk a few blocks first, of course.  Go back to Cesar's, go to my 
     room.
GM - Park your shit?
PR - Yeah, park my shit, take a shower, go to bed, and he'll probably call me 
     in the morning.
GM - Nine a.m., whether you're awake or not--
PR - I'm not.
GM - Mr. Scagnetti.  I see you made it home. 
PR - Yeah, I did.
GM - Well?
PR - Well, what?
GM - You were supposed to call, as I remember.  Did you bring anything back?
PR - In the trunk.
GM - All right.  Did you have any entanglements?
PR - There's a living witness.
GM - Really.
PR - Uh-huh.  
GM - Who might that be?
PR - A little white fuzzy cat.
GM - I see.  Well, we'll have to put a contract on it, and make sure it 
     doesn't testify.  [coughs]  The rest of your fee will be in your account.  
     I'll get back to you--
PR - Are we going up to 8K?
GM - Yes.  As I said.  We'll take a look at what's in the trunk and see if you 
     merit any more.
PR - So should I just go ahead and add five thousand more?
GM - Yeah.  He says, I'll get back to you at three this afternoon and let you 
     know what we come up with.  If I still have a job, that is.
PR - All right.
GM - A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Scagnetti.
PR - Likewise.
GM - Oh, by the way, did you have any trouble with the car?
PR - No.
GM - All right.
PR - They wrote down the license number and anything, but I figure you can 
     deal with it.
GM - Did they check your residents' card, or wave you through?
PR - No, they waved me through.
GM - I'll call you at three o'clock, then. 
PR - I'm riveted.
GM - He hangs up.
PR - I'm going to sit around until three, and watch TV or something. 
GM - The afternoon goes by.  At three-fifteen he calls.  He sounds a little 
     frazzled.
PR - What's the matter?
GM - Scagnetti!   Ah ... we have four thousand euro waiting for you, as you 
     brought back many wonderful things.  On condition that you come down to 
     Beppo's.
PR - Tonight?
GM - Yes.  Tonight.  This evening.  Can you make it?  Tell me you can make it, 
     please?
PR - Why?  What's the problem?
GM - Because if you can't make it, I'll send someone down to make sure that 
     you can.
PR - Sure.
GM - This is important.
PR - Okay.  Four K?
GM - Yes.  If you get there at eight o'clock.
PR - I'll be there at seven fifty-nine.
GM - For every ten minutes you're late, you lose a K, all right?  Make sure 
     you're there at eight.
PR - [laughing]  What happens if I'm ten minutes early?
GM - You get a free meal.

[end session one]