| From: | James Dening jdening@****.co.uk |
|---|---|
| Subject: | The Meeting - I |
| Date: | Thu, 15 Jun 2000 14:48:42 +0100 |
>>>>>[+++++begin video
+++++POV: Front Gates.
For the last twenty minutes, a variety of cars and bikes, some
private, some taxis have been arriving at the imposing front gates
of the Mansion Descabiere. Most avail themselves of the
valet parking, even if the valets are all sporting six o'clock shadow
and bulging armpits. Only a few demur, including the driver
of an immaculate late-model Saab Dynamit, who insists on
driving it himself into the parking garage underneath the building.
The car is rigorously examined for anything out of the ordinary, by
chemsniffers and by less orthodox techniques.
+++++POV: Main Reception Room
The Descabiere security forces are on full alert. Tonight, they are
playing host to some of the most notorious shadowrunners in the
city. Even the guards, hardened mobsters to a man, are visibly
nervous. Their Dona, Minnie Descabiere, widow to the late and
unlamented Eric Descabiere is a beacon to them all, though. Dressed
in an immaculate silk grey trouser suit, that shows off her dancer's
physique to excellent advantage, she moves from group to group
putting the guests and incidentally, their watchers,
at ease. Bob Laconi, medium height, serious and in
every way a counter point to Minnie, is at her right
hand side, supplying her with information and names.
She approaches two men, standing together in the middle
of the room. They both have drinks in their hands, and
are chatting easily with one of the guards. They are
at ease, and as the camera zooms into them, the shorter
of the two men obviously hits the punchline of the joke
that has the Capo in the button-down suit shaking with
laughter.
The current source of amusement is a tall white,
clean-shaven, man dark-blonde hair which is long enough
to wear in a short ponytail. Blue eyes complement his
tan slacks, a excellent quality sports jacket, cornflower
blue shirt and tie. The overall effect is more off-duty
executive than a shadowrunner. The monitor picks up his
voice, sifting through the general hubbub..
"and she shouts 'Pig!!' through the window. So, the
chap going the other way winds *his* window down and
shouts 'Fucking Bitch!!!" in reposte. Satisfied with this,
he closes the window, and drives round the next corner
straight into a pig in the middle of the road...."
The tones are classic British home-counties, Berkshire
or Hertfordshire perhaps. The other two men laugh at the
joke, although the huge man next to him has obviously
heard the gag before. The camera moves over to him. He's
a huge man, towering over the six foot height of his
companion. Of indiscernibly mixed race, he is clean
shaven as well, with very long, very black, very straight
hair that he wears loose and hanging down his back, nearly
to his belt. He's dressed casually - a silk shirt and
jeans, with a London Fog trenchcoat spirited away by the
doorman to wherever raincoats live during dinner hours.
As the camera looks on, he glances down, and a trace of
annoyance crosses his face as he sees a blemish in the
mirror-finish of his brown brogues. At that point, Minnie
joins them
"Jules, Harold, delighted you could join us." She seems
genuinely pleased to see them - she obviously knows them
of old. They spent a few minutes in idle conversation,
with the Capo drifting off to resume his guard watch at
the edge of the room in response to a glance from Minnie."
"So, Dona, can you tell us what this is all about yet? It
must be something fairly serious for *you* to be joining
us." Jules looks grave and glances at his partner, who's
nodding in agreement.
"I'm afraid, Jules, that you don't know the half of it. It's
about as bad as you could possibly realise."
This doesn't reassure the Englishman at all. Even more
concerned, he presses on.
"I mean, what could be that serious? Is that pipsqueak in
Vegas playing you up? Is it the Koreans? You haven't fallen
out with Don Bartolo, have you?" He sighs. "Dona, you know
how I hate playing gangsters..."
Minnie laughs softly. "Jules, Jules....if only it were
something that trivial."
Jules starts to reply, but his words are cut dead in his
mouth by a new entry into the room. She's about 5'4",
muscular, and quite clearly Hispanic in origin. Her dark
skin is complemented by jet black hair and dark, dark eyes.
As the three of them watch, she scans the room...and starts
slightly, eyes widening as she sees Jules.
"Alba..." he breathes, almost resignedly.
She hesitates for a moment, then marches deliberately
across the room to the three of them.
Bob Laconi has joined the party and is whispering in
Minnie's ear. As Alba approaches, Minnie smiles charmingly
and addresses her.
"Alba, I assume? I trust you made your way here without
inconvenience?"
"Yes, Dona. Finding it was not a problem. The people here...
Now...there are a few surprises."
She is staring straight at Jules, who reddens slightly but
returns her gaze evenly.
"Ah...yes, of course." replies Minnie, glancing from one
to the other. "Well, the briefing will start shortly, and
I hope that will answer any questions you might have. Mr
Holden, if you would be so kind, I have a something that
might be of interest to you. Chef got it in specially..."
She leads the large shapechanger away, Bob Laconi following
at a discreet distance.
"So, Alba. You managed your 'difficult' task without a
problem, then?" His tone is innocent, his face a mask.
"Jules....I didn't know you would be here." Her accent is
palpable; strongly Hispanic, rich in tone and accent.
"Would you still have come?" he replies.
"Of course..." She smiles at him. "I didn't think I had to
avoid you...Anyway, yes, I did it. And it was just as you
thought. You might have made it out, but Le Tigre, over there.
Nada. Not a chance." She shrugs. "Maybe we both made the
right decision, si?"
Jules nods slowly.
"The new haircut suits you. Very tough."
She runs her fingers through it, the pink of scar tissue
glinting under her touch.
"There was a certain medical necessity..."
Jules is taken aback slightly by this, and changes the subject
abruptly.
"So, where do *we* stand now? As before? Or what?"
"As before is fine by me, Inglesi..." Her tone softens, is more
intimate. She leans slightly, imperceptibly towards him,
testing his English reserve. "...OK?"
"So, I take it this means you still like men?" asks Jules,
amusedly.
Her resulting smile smoulders briefly at him. "I'll show
you later....."
+++++POV: Darkened monitoring room.
Bob Laconi sweeps in. It's a long, narrow room, wall covered in cameras
and displays for esoteric scanning equipment. There's at least one radar
screen scanning in 360 degree sweeps. All in all, it looks more like a
command bunker for a medium sized military outpost than the security
office for a mansion.
"Guys, what have you got? Tommy Two-tone...what do the scanners say?"
A young man in a natty two coloured shirt replies, eyes still glued to a
large
computer readout in front of him. "Yeah, most of them are packing. That big
guy had a shotgun in his coat - nice one too, a T250. And that Spanish chica
has a Viper on her ankle. Jules has his usual piece." Again, the comment
about the Englishman is more relaxed, almost as if he's part of the
household
staff.
Tommy continues with a list of gear that some of the other have, moving onto
cyberware. This list is long and impressive, from the datajack behind Jules'
left
ear up to the full reflex boosting sported by some of the other guests.
Smartlinks
and cyberoptics are commonplace too, with most of the mundane guests being
augmented in one way or another.
"Good. Willow, what you got?" replies Bob.
A beautiful, lithe woman seated in a reclining comfortable chair at the far
end of
the room answers him.
"Well, we already knew about Tigerman....apart from that, only a few of them
are
magically capable - the big Troll for one. And there's only one gun that the
scanners
missed - it's some weird ceramic thing on that tall skeletal guy...Cypher is
his
name. You might want to keep an eye on him."
"OK, fine - keep on 'em - there's a lot of talent out there, and I hope none
of it
is gonna kick off rough." Bob turns, and hurriedly exits out of the obs
room,
heading back to the party.
+++++POV: Front Gates.
A squat dwarf is engaged with an argument with one of the
men on the gate.
"I'm sorry sir, but no heavy weap..."
"Look ya little fragger - it's my personal firearm? Gottit? An'
I'm not leav..."
He is interrupted by Bob Laconi, who has appeared as if from
nowhere. "Mr Irish? Dona Minnie is waiting for you...Antonio,
it's okay, Mr Irish will be coming with me."
The guard nods and steps aside impassively.
+++++POV: Main Hallway.
"Ha! Well trained, your goons!" says the dwarf, following Bob into
the house. He stumps across the hallway into the main room
that everyone is gathering in. Grabbing a drink, he looks around,
to see Jules, ears crimson, talking quietly but intensely to a
dark-skinned woman he doesn't know.
"Ha!" he repeats. "Someone I *do* know...JULES!......" The
Englishman and his companion both snap their heads up as
the dwarf barges his way across the room to them.
+++++POV: Front Gates.
A taxi pulls up and drops off a large Troll. He's dressed well, but
looks slightly out of place in the smart duds. He hops out of the
cab with the natural grace of a trained athlete...or a physad.
Paid, the cabdriver screeches off, wanting to spend as little time
as possible in front of the notorious mob residence.
"Mr Froger, I presume? My name is David. Dona Minnie asked
me to meet you when you arrived. I understand we have both been
gifted in the same sort of way."
The man standing in front of Frog is wearing a nondescript outfit of
loose cloth, with a katana handle poking over his left shoulder. He
has short blonde hair, a warm smile and an absolute calmness and
clarity of poise that almost screams out loud his Physical Adept
status. He cocks his head slightly, calmly waiting for an answer from
the troll hulking over him.
The troll replies. "Call me Frog - only my bank manager calls
me Mr Froger! So, like, you guys got any food? I'm *starving*..."
"Right this way, er....Frog." says David and turns, leading his
fellow adept into the house.
+++++POV: Main Reception Room
The room is nearly half full and the conversation is growing more animated
by the minute, with only a few of the 'runners maintaining their reserve.
Irish is the focus of an animated group in a corner, telling some improbable
story about an orc mercenary disguised as a ballerina, whereas at the
other extreme, the tall silent sniper, known as Cypher is splashing out,
drinking his third glass of tap water. The Troll Physad, Frog is hoovering
his
way through the buffet, discussing ki power with David, who so far is
showing
no signs of thirst or hunger. A smiling, joking man, who arrived in the Saab
Dynamit is chatting to a woman in black leather in the corner - Jazz has
arrived at some point, it seems.
Bob Laconi walks to the centre of the room and clears his throat loudly.
"Er...yes. Ladies and Gentlemen...." For some reason this prompts a
snigger from the smiling man talking to Jazz, which Bob ignores....
"Dona Minnie is ready to speak to you now. Please go through."
And, as if by magic, or maybe it is, a large pair of doors at the end
of the room glide open, leading to a small auditorium, with a large,
oval table laid out, and Dona Minnie Descabiere sitting at the end,
in front of a large screen.
+++++end video]<<<<<
-- Internal Monitoring <19:14:59/12-06-61>
Descabiere Mansion Security
