Summary:Jane Roe meets with Snart and Rory. Plans are made. Log Info:Storyteller: N/A |
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Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - Skipping about this place and it still feels dirty. I like doing business in person.
Fastjack_Bot - Remember the Rules: no politics, no assasinations. This is not Murdernet.
St.Roe - This is a place to contact people to discuss stuff for the meetup. What's the Spiel?
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - Liberation of sorts. Sherwood in flavor and Blackbeard in feel. Though, not that loud. I'm good at what I do but not the best in all things. Fingers point and you know your stuff around code?
St.Roe - Sure do. Liberation, huh? Portable goods or fixed ones?
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - Portable. I just need to make ghosts.
St.Roe - Portable sounds good, making ghosts sounds like you need to bypass security. Cameras and sensors I can deal with. Guards would be your problem. How's the value of the item or items estimated?
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch- - Cameras yes, most sensors I can deal with, but extra help at disappearing is never something to brush off. Value? Together, 50K. 16 split.
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - Secondary option, a choice of one of three things. Equal value pre-fence.
St.Roe - 50 grand? doesn't sound like you're looking for a museum with those values. More a private collection and smaller items. Nothing like the irish crown jewels or a Vermeer, but not a small deal either. How hot are the items in question to evaluate the options?
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - I'm not keen on hot things. They have to be special for that, least where I'm concerned. They're private. Info gained form birds here and there. Vaulted. I can work it, my second can handle muscle, just need someone more electronically gifted.
St.Roe - sounds ok. Send me details for a meetup and on the items in question, if you want me to dig deeper.
Pl31ST0C3N3 Ep0Ch - * - ** - *. Rule of 3s. Follow the chill.
St.Roe - See you then. Bring the files in digital, if you can. Easier to destroy than paper.
- scenebrealer -
Lena Snart knew the place, it as one she frequented from time to time when not too hot under the collar with the blues and feds. She liked this place; it was dark and questionable in all the best ways. The lazy sound of billard balls clacking twists melodic with the soft hums of a jukebox and something droning on the TV screens above the bar. Well, at least those still working, the others guarded by cages.
Sitting at a table of choice, sunk back next to the faint glow of a side wall lamp, the blue-eyed wonder tips back her tumbler of amber liquid and then glances off toward a larger man looming about. "Sit down, Mick. Grab yourself a drink. We're just going to talk." She promises.
Some people looked out of place when it came to rough, dark and questionable places. Then there were people like Mick Rory, who truely did not. The towering man cut a path through the regulars as he followed at Lena's wake, his eyes going over the room for a moment as if he were expecting something to go wrong already. But he wasn't going to turn down the offer for a drink.
Beer in hand almost as quick as one could blink, he sinks down onto the chair. "I don't like all this computer stuff," he mutters, twisting the lid off the bottle. "What ever happened to just cutting the power?"
"Batteries and backup alerts?" came the response to Mick's questions from the table next to the two, a young lady with short black hair standing up to get to the table. "Pletstochoene Epoch, right?" she asked, tossing an old style Floppy onto the table, the labeling carrying a can of caviar under an ellipse, probably some kind of immitation of a Halo. A pun?
"Tech got better, that's what happened." She begins only for a better answer to makes its way to their ears. "Pleistocene Epoch. Close enough. Saint?" She questions, eyeing the tiny square and chuckling. Cute. Snart then offers her hand out in greeting, gloved and all. "Have a seat. Grab a drink." Shaken or not, she moves her hand back and dips it into her inner pocket, tossing over a key of plastic and neon blue. "Basic idea of what we're shooting for. Small stuff for big players, but big enough for us for now. Testing the waters, as it were." A nod up, she directs between her companion and Roe. "Surt, Roe. Roe, Surt. Call me Ymir if you'd rather."
Mick's response? Just a little growl of displeasure, but he doesn't really have more to contribute to the conversation immediately. This wasn't his game, this part of the job wasn't his area of expertise. He just had to look menacing and be ready to react if things went wrong. His introduction as Surt? It just brings a little noise of amusement while he takes a deep swig of his beer.
The woman nods, slipping into the booth as she takes the hand, giving her a short handshake. "On the job?" she asks as she catches the stick, her eyes closing momentarily as she turns it in her fingers, then pulls out a phone with some kind of dongle attatched, sticking the stick into the later. USB phone adapter. Even though she doesn't technically need it, she pulls open the files on the small screen, at least glancing into the direction of the phone as she actually scans the files a little abore. "Testing the waters and compsition. If it pays, we go for the bigger fish. Surt… Isn't it spelledt Surtr? Nordic Jotunnfrom the Poeddic Edda, just like Ymir. The Black and the Anchestor, pretty much. Got a fancy name for me too, if we go all jotnar with naming? Anything but Loki, that guy's taken by the green and gold one."
"I was just being cheeky, honestly. Elementally speaking." A smirk, she eyes Mick. "Surt is easier for him to say." Sitting up slightly and correcting her posture, she sips from her glass and licks across her dark lips. Chuckling, she nods. "Sure, you want a name, we'll get you a name. Granted, when working we already have names that are less fun and more to the point." Shrugging, she sips again. "Everything I have so far is on that. Layouts, times, guard changes, locations. All that I could get my hands on, but I'm sure you have a bigger shovel as far as that's concerned." Hand out, she motions toward Roe. "Show of good faith? You get to pick your own name." A pause, she eyes Mick before once more becoming attentive of Roe.
"You wouldn't want me coming up with it anyway," Mick adds as an afterthought, a smirk on his lips as if he was pleased at his own joke without ever telling it. It was probably something like 'Nerd'…he wasn't the most creative sometimes. Or at least, he didn't seem to be. Another sip of his drinks, he leans forwards to look at the USB…but he isn't going to be learning anything from looking at a hunk of plastic.
Jane meanwhile had pulled up about half a dozen windows for herself while the screen of the phone flashes and flickers, showing the stuff in the files for some seconds each while her fingers swipe over it to change to the next and next again. "How about Unn? One of the daughters of Aegir and Ran, also a word for Name… and incidently also a name of Odin, then meaning Beloved." She chuckles as she halts at a few things. "Oh my, lasers inside the vault? Someone is paranoid for those items…"
"Unn. I think my partner here can pronounce that." She muses, sipping and waiting for Jane to look over everything there is to offer. Licking her lips, she makes a soft 'mmm' sound. "To get in, and out, with any amount of speed, both of us should be able to get a stash and bolt. I'm flexible enough, but somethings do not bend that way. And as for Surt here, well…"
"You can call yourself Gandhi for all I care," Mick adds, shrugging his shoulders, "As long as you can do your job and get us in." Another drink, this time the man drains the last third of the bottle in one go and thuds the empty beer bottle down on the tabletop. A shrug, an exhaled 'ahhh' and he looks between the two women, gesturing with his hand for them to continue.
"Silencing the alert seems preferable without triggering the alerts. But If I choose Ghandi, then you'd have to provide me a nuke or two, and I don't see you do that." Jane retorts, a shit eating grin on the face. Sid Meyer's Civillizations. "Getting the alerts to be shut up and silent shouldn't be a prblem, you'd have to deal with on site security though. Guards mainly. I can try to cut radio, but that's rather obvious in contrast to you just keeping a low profile."
"What a pleasant glitch." She chuckles, her face going stoic as her finger shoots up, pointing into Mick's face. "Don't even ask." And then to Roe, "and don't give him ideas." A index waggle and her hand goes back down to hold around her glass. "Working on the alerts and evidence is what we're looking for. Guards are something we can handle physically. Radio cuts are an after thought should we get caught. I slip, he hits, we'll get in there if everything is nice and quiet." Smile, "If it's smooth, you get your cut and we work again. Bigger hits, bigger cuts."
"Fun all round!" Mick adds, even if he -had- looked a little confused by the nuke reference. Not a big gamer it seems. A shrug, he moves as if he intended to stand up from the table before looking between the others again. "I'm going to get another drink," the announcement comes, perhaps an offer for one each implied…or maybe he was just going to fetch one for himself.
A chuckle comes from Jane, shrugging a little. "As long as you don't get an arrow to the knee." She shakes the head a little on the silent offer of getting her a drink. "Now… we want it to go smooth, don't we? If we double the price each time and do one a month we'd heist the Mona Lisa in about a year. They value her 100 millions after all."
"Ah, a girl who knows how to go after a score. Surt, I like her." She grins happily, nodding toward the retreating Mick in a request for a fresh drink. "Well, Unn, we'll try this out for size and see how we mesh together. If it goes, we'll be in touch, if not, well…we take what's ours and go about our business." Hand out again, she stands and waits. "Deal?"
Thud. Mick's returned. No beers, just a trio of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Swiftly poured and one pushed towards each of them, even if he'd given himself a little extra. Clearly he hadn't paused to ask them what they wanted. "If it doesn't work out, at least one of us would be dead, probably you…" he adds with a raise of his eyebrows towards St.Roe and a grin. "But this'll all go well and we'll all be a little richer. Right?"
St.Roe nods slowly, stretching out the hand. "Deal. I will fix up a little coms solution. Earbuds, neck microphones, small non-standard band transcievers. I think I can work with the info here. Just got to take care not to delve too greedily and too deep, and disturb that from which we flee, Durin's Bane." The glass Mick brings her gets a little glare, then a shrug as she eyes the bottle. "Well, then I better make sure that any other distractions are on the other side of town so you don't come after me. Because I am kind of out of stock of intracranial implantation supersonic shockwave generators." The good old Cortex bomb.
"Don't mind him. He's a good boy." She promises, accepting her shot after the hand-shake was over. If Roe shot or not, she would clink glasses and smoothly down the shot at the same moment that Mick had. It was a practiced, fluid motion. "Meet again here in a week? Same time?"
St.Roe says, "Sure thing. Same time, same deal." Finally she lifts the glass, concluding the meeting. She had mentioned it earlier, hadn't she? No alcohol on the job for her. "Kampai." She smiles as she leans back, plucking the USB from the dongle and phone before all the items end in her pockets."