++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The current year is 2072. Word on the street is that it's been a tough year on all, particularly on the dark side of business. Your side of business. Many a good Runner has been lost and toasted to in whichever seedy dive they and their companions usually hung out in, drinking away their hard earned creds. That's why you're here - don't like it but there we go, last run went to hell and just you left. Of course this sort of news usually brings in new blood - most customers can be less picky about who they hire, and anybody who isn't sleeping in a cave knows that means the Big 10 and the smaller corps snapping at their heels. Even smaller personal contracts are popping up now for newer scrubs wanting to prove their worth. You know it's your way in to make it big
You and the other 4 people this lousy dorm room were all in the same boat. You haven't spoken much over the last few days but you know what needs to be done. They seem like a solid bunch but it's hard to tell if they got your back until lead and hellfire is whizzing through the air. The message you got last week was from nobody you recognised, but they had been specific about meeting here for work. Might as well get used to it - people in this line of work couldn't really trust many people, get a good team going and life's peachy. Get a bad team and it's like crawling over Orks teeth. Hope fully this will work out and the foreseeable future - if a job goes well people stick with who they know, less unknowns.
That package better be here soon, it's the waiting that's worst. Game-face or no, everybody hates it.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Dexter looked at his watch with a slight sense of nerves. Even doing what he did that never got old. The driver was almost late picking him up, which in turn meant he was late getting through to deliver the message. The 5 people he knew would be waiting and expecting his contact. Delays made people edgy and edgy people made mistakes. What's more is that he had been requested to be involved personally with these...contractors. It paid the bills but still wasn't what he loved doing, which generally was something less risky and with professionals. Still, new Runners were always needed, especially since he had been obliged to Clean the last lot, proof that even experienced Runners can make mistakes.
Even as the car turned down the last block to the drop location he managed a wry grin. The first job was always amusing, he wondered how this would turn out. If they managed it well enough then they may learn something. Dexter exited the car after it pulled up outside the apartment and dropped the Briefcase off with the Janitor. If he could avoid contact yet then all the better.
Getting back in the car, Dexter instructed the driver to head back to campus. There were more pressing matters to deal with, although most of them outside of his control. Plans took time and when you're used to time being very thin, unavoidable gaps in progress were frustrating. No matter, there was the spirit he had captured waiting for further tests. Such a nuisance being as he was, but he tried to look on the bright side. Another grin crossed his face....
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was a normal day as far as Garef could tell in the sprawl, in as much as there was regular gun fire and the buzz of incorrectly earthed wiring in the air. That combined with the dampness that came in off the shore that morning and there was a definite taste of O-Zone; That or the last line of Jazz hadn't worn off yet. Of course every normal day has it's oddities, even for these parts. That human that walked in wearing black was weird for example, more so that he was polite - not common for a troll caretaker to have a civil conversation with a Wage Slave. He had delivered a metal briefcase and asked for it to be given to room 5-F, taking time to explain that it was very important and also dangerous to open unless you know how. Such things didn't matter to Garef, especially when a loaded CredStick is also handed over - maybe real meat tonight!
When the man had pulled away in his car (Pretty swiftly too he noted) he had put the mop and bucket back in his cupboard (The bucket still with the same slimy water it had 18 months ago) and took the case up to 5-F. He didn't need to knock, just push it through the dog sized hole at the bottom of the door and bang twice on the frame. People who stayed in this block generally had the quality of the apartment as the least of their worries. The shadow under the door indicated somebody had picked up the case and had at least some form of idea what it possibly contained. Any half-savy grot could tell - you either know its safe or people are jumping out windows to get away from something nasty. There was a return of a gruff "Thanks mate" before a bustling of people moving together.
As he walked down back to his tool cupboard he started to think about the people in that room. Usually people came in for their own room, stayed a few nights and had gotten out of there. Garef picked up an electro-screwdriver and spare jump-rod and put them in his dungarees. 5-F was a dorm style room, meant for people wanting a quick nightly kip then out. Instead one of them had come in and requested specifically to rent that room for a few weeks. Friends coming in from out of town he said, needed a place to stay with friendly faces. The apartment didn't usually do that but the guy had a nice charm about him and they had made an exception. After that the other 4 started to arrive - they had been in there for a couple of days now and Garef hadn't seen them leave.
Whatever, not his business. Back to fixing the sign; the street looked funny without out it's Neon glow adding to the already hazy light. As Garef slipped off the maglock on the side panel of the power board he wondered if real meat was a good idea, maybe another few lines of Jazz would be good...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The campaign sets our initial 5 anti-heroes together in a beat up old apartment. Their last jobs went wrong, people died. Now they seek a new start, fresh for work. Teams form in unlikely places and this one is no exception, but here they are. 5 Runners trying to make a new living and establish themselves in the underworld. Shadowrun sets itself out from other games in that the world can live and adapt. There is more to this story line than a rigid set of scenes and the flow of the game will largely be controlled by the players, what they want to do with their own personal goals and who they can get work off of. There will of course be set plot hooks and under lying stories that shape the adventures they have, but players can choose what they do with it
Our first starts off with the briefcase being dropped off by a mystery man we know is called "Dexter". Where it takes them, only time will tell. You can be sure of one thing though, the way to riches and fame in the under world is Down A Shadowy Path...
) the more they improve and develop, like a character passing through a story book
Need them anyway but I feel so weak.