| From: | Mark Imbriaco <mark@**********.COM> |
|---|---|
| Subject: | The game is afoot. |
| Date: | Fri, 21 Nov 1997 21:26:36 -0800 |
>>>>>[ We've wrapped up our final planning. We're hitting them at
oh-one-hundred. They're a good group of kids, and Nomad has a knack
for planning -- we had a problem right at the beginning where he would
look to me for approval about every aspect of the run, but I explained
to him that it's his team and I'm just along for the ride. I don't
anticipate any problems, but I'd appreciate it if you'd have a
friendly street-doc on standby just in case. I don't want to have
to do any explaining at Seattle General with a GSW victim.
+++++ begin video
A large conference table sits in the middle of the floor, surrounded
by nearly a dozen chairs. A muscular young Amerindian is standing,
leaning over some blueprints that have been laid out on the table.
On one side of the table, a thin man is leaned back in his chair
with his eyes closed. The datacable that is running from his temple
to the cyberdeck in it's black macroplast case proclaims him as the
team's decker. A man and a woman with the hard, intense look of
street samurai sit across the table also looking at the blueprints
with the Amerind. At the far end of the table, a wiry oriental
man gazes attentively at the rest. He seems to small to be a street
samurai, and there are no obvious cybernetic mods to mark what his
position in the team is. The last man at the table is a tall,
very powerfully built man who is paying attention to the rest of
the goings-on at the table with a gruff look, nodding occaisonally
as the Amerind speaks.
Finally, the Amerindian stops and begins rolling up the blueprints
as he starts speaking. "That's it. I'll be with team Alpha coming
in the front door while Griffyn leads Bravo through the back. We
go in a few hours. Equipment check at twenty-three hundred. Lets
try and get a little rest."
+++++ end video ]<<<<<
-- Griffyn <18:22:01/11-21-58>
