After the nuyen dried up due to jobs becoming scarce, runners start to get desperate. That desperation makes them go against their better judgement. Are they willing to take up any job that will help them make it to the next month?
The New Year held very depressing results. The celebrations were less spectacular than they once knew, the crowds and fireworks were more sparse and less appealing. Hell, even the drinks were even weaker. The one thing that was stuck on the back of the runners minds… money, nuyen, bread, cash, no matter what the word used, they didn’t have it… until the message flashed across their PAN’s. Work. Not the kind for the wage slave or for the corporate executives. Real work. Though, not always pleasant, its what they can do with their given secondary citizen status. Meet at the Den of Ashes. Simple enough.
The Den of Ashes, an extremely horrid bar in a section of Seattle with little to no actual enforcement. Why the hell anyone would go there was a good question. Why the hell anyone would want to meet there is an even better one. Orks and Trolls were common metatypes to see mixed outside and in, with very Human and Dwarven folks that seemed out of place but no one really cared.
Two elves summoned on this meet were stopped by a big burly extremely foul smelling bouncer. By sneaking around, the first elf, the magician, slipped by seemingly unnoticed. The second, ended up paying an overly inflated cover fee.
The message said to meet in the back, which the five did. Unlike the filth that filled the bar, this back room was completely white. Spotless. Clean. The door latched behind them and a figure stepped out of a hidden door on the opposite side of the room. After seated, he explains that he needs a certain BTL fresh out of production for his boss. After several unsuccessful negotiation attempts, he finally promises an unrevealed bonus. He also mentions that if they refused, they wouldn’t be leaving this room alive, but that information is trivial… isn’t it?