Purple Dino Bar. Redmond Barrens.

"Atztech ? " He spits the word out with as much disgust as possible. "Bah !"
"As I said, it's been some time, but I don't think the Azzies knew the score back then or know it today. Although, to be fair I wouldn't put this past these bastards."

Invae ? Something tingled inside his head. He had heard this expression before in the past, long ago.
But he couldn't remember.

"All I know is that if these fraggers teamed up with Ares on such a task, we'd be well-nigh royally screwed."

"Indeed. That is why I asked. Such a connection would be dangerous, especially given the blood magic connection. I have heard many things regarding the Astral Space surrounding the teocalli. To say such reports are universally disturbing would be...an understatement." Kit chuckles slightly. If H had heard what he just said, the old geezer would have had a field day.

"Well, thank God I didn't have the pleasure to see a functional one yet. Let alone this astral space stuff, but that's luckily not my business..."

"So, tell me, what has been happening in the mundane world of late? I fear I often become so wrapped up in my own affairs that I lose track."

"To be honest: Same for me... The last really big thing that got to me has been the emergence of the technomancers and the riots that followed.
Living in Hong Kong when things get messy isn't that good, after all. So I guess there's still a lot of attention put to TMs here, eh ? Same drek, different date, I guess.
Reminds me of the whole Otaku-thing back in the late 50s to early 60s. And those AIs... I think thats pretty much common knowledge now, with all this manifestos and politics...

But the thing, that grabbed most of my attention was this whole Tempo thing... I guess that's about to end quite horribly...
Just an overview, if its too general, just ask.
By the way, I have heard that Rowena did Bigio in and assumed leadership of the Finnegans. I have also been told that there's some underworld war being fought, similar to the mob war of '58.
Do you have any intel on this ?"

Kit pauses, mulling over the news. "I know some people who were active participants in that crime war. They took out one of Bigio's major partners at Rowena's behest. I usually pay little attention to such things, but your mention of those names reminded me of that particular bit of gruesome business. By the end of the job, the man's house had been completely demolished with his beheaded body inside, and his lover had been gunned to pieces on the front steps. As for Tempo, I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name. What is it?"

Henderson grins.
"So Bigio's gone ? At last ! He really was a pain in the neck compared to Jim O' Malley.
But then, compared to the war of '58, this sounds rather... tame to me. Back then, the syndicates knew how to wage a proper war. Killing off cops in the dozen and stuff...

All I know at this point, is that Tempo is a drug that became rather popular in '71 and that no one really knows who makes and distributes it. Some claim that its a bioawakened drug, but I'm not into drugs so much, except for my weed, so I'm not sure what to make of this so far. Guess I'll have do do a massive amount of research back home."
He sighs. It seems that he's not delighted by the thought of having to do this.

"Ah. Drugs." Kit nods. "That explains my ignorance on the subject. My purview does not generally extend to drug trafficking, with the exception of a few particularly exotic items. Such business tends to pay far too little, especially considering the risk and effort involved."

"You can say that again ! Drug dealers and producers are not the merriest folks to have around."

"Indeed. They are also not very bright and terribly stringy. Last time I had to deal with a drug trafficker, I was still picking bits of him out of my teeth an hour later."

In the soft light, Kit's smiles with teeth like daggers.

"Absolutely ! I was in a team with one a long time ago. I don't think I have to go into detail who royally screwed the job, do I ?
To cut a long story short: We made it out and left him behind without anything. I still think, it was the right thing to do.
Just watch out for those belonging to a syndicate... You'd bite off more than you could chew, so to speak..."

"Ahhh...the syndicate...." Kit grins wistfully, lost in memories. "Especially the Triads. A bit of advice: if you ever find yourself needing to tender your resignation to such people, be prepared to have to kill a lot of them to get your point across. And if you find yourself needing to make that point, ah, gastronomically, make sure you possess a good immune system. If it were not for the attentions of a dear friend, I imagine that bout of food poisoning would have been far worse.

"Oh, I know... Not that the other syndicates are much better in this point. For each member you kill, they send two after you, until they get you or you get out of town...
The triads may have the reputation to be the most violent syndicate, but the others are not that far off. One shouldn't cross them, but if you have to, hit them fast and hard."

On the other hand, Kit thought to himself, single-handedly kill eighty of their men and devour the local boss while he's still alive and screaming and even the Triads think twice before going after you. At a certain point, violence becomes unprofitable. Usually it's the point when you're not the one inflicting it.

"So, why is this Tempo such a big deal? New drugs show up all the time. How is this one different?"

"There issome other stuff that cropped up in Japan around the time that Tempo was introduced here. It's a bioawakened drug called "Xi Chi", a party drug. This means it's probably some kind of upper or hallucinogen, possibly both. Gained popularity mainly among clubgoers, price around 60 quid a dose.

The thing is this: It seems, that there's some sort of loophole in japanese regulations about stuff like this, so it was considered a misdemanour to posess or use this stuff, so they could do virtually nothing to nick the dealers. That means, if you're dealing with this stuff, you pay a fine and the drug is confiscated. That's about it.

So it's not a "get out of jail free card" but a "pay some money and do not even get to see the jail card".

I assume that the situation of Tempo could be similar..."

Kit mulls over the information. "Perhaps...it seems a strange reason to fight a gang war, though."

He looks around, having another silent conversation, before his attention returns. "So, you have had encounters with Aztechnology in the past. What have you seen of them?"

""Have had encounters" ? Nicely put, although I'd prefer "rain on those bastard's parade whenever possible". "Underground labs, production plants, critters, mages, lots of creeps with guns.
The usual suspects, so to speak. Say, you do ask a lot of questions... How old are you anyway ?"

A laugh. "What a forward question to ask! Old enough to know better than to answer such a question to satisfaction, at the very least. One's age is much like one's name. It says far too much for people in my line of business to give it so freely."

Another laugh.
" Ha ! I knew you'd say that ! Gathering intel about their dirty laundry, huh ?"

The back room of the Purple Dino is crowded with a varied collection of gutter punks. The toughs surround T-Bird Battles, a battered two-player holotrid table game. A red T-Bird chases a blue one through a desert canyon above the tabletop as the crowd cheers. Bets are made and money changes hands. Two opponents square off across the table, fiberoptic wires connecting their datajacks to the control rigs in the table. The red player, a black Ork, chuckles as the blue T-Bird approaches a solid canyon wall. As the Ork accelerates and prepares for the kill, a black cloud erupts from the tail of the blue T-Bird. The two combatants are almost to the canyon wall. Suddenly, the blue T-Bird nose-dives into the scree on the canyon floor, spewing dirt and rocks into the air as it decelerates rapidly. Surprised and blinded, the red T-Bird flies onward - straight into the canyon wall. A fireball erupts at the point of collision, as the blue LAV returns to a steady hover.

The crowd stands silent for a moment, stunned by the sudden turn of events. The holotrid clicks off and the lights return to normal, showing the black Ork staring into space, disorientation and dump-shock showing across his slack features. Across from him, a short, wiry Hispanic human pulls the wire from his datajack. 200 nuyen find their way into the Hispanic's hand as he moves away from table, ignoring the back slaps and cheers, and heads towards the bar in the front of the Purple Dino.

Drawing a beer, the troll bartender smiles at the winner. "Good night at the table, Quixote?" The winner nods noncommittally, scanning the scene in the bar and sipping his beer. "You ever going to tell anyone you drive for a living?"

Quixote laughs out loud at that one. "Not a chance, Barney," the rigger replies, handing over a 200% tip. "What's happening over there, amigo?" He gestures to the serious-looking group in the corner.

Barney listens intently, and Quixote recalls the big troll's custom cyberears. "Sounds like they're talking about street drugs and organized crime and Aztechnology, or bulldrek in other words."

"Heh, sound like my kind of hustlers," Quixote says, deftly maneuvering an antiquated coin across the back of his fingers. "Let's see if I can't part a few more suckers from their money."

Quixote picks up his beer and walks over to the group. "You've got to know what you're doing if you're going up against Aztechnology, muchachos," the rigger says by way of introduction. He sits down without being invited. "And it helps to know someone who can get you over the border in one piece. But you all would already know that, wouldn't you?"

Kit peers at the newcomer, sizing him up. He frowns. "Remind me to have a word with Barney later about these booths," he says, his soundless voice seeped with irritation. Only Henderson and Quixote can hear him, Kit's telepathic speech a form of communication that is by its very nature impossible to eavesdrop upon.
"The point, I believe, of white noise generators is that they prevent unwanted listeners. A white noise generator that allows Barney to overhear Henderson's half of the conversation is not, strictly speaking, a white noise generator so much as it is a piece of worthless scrap. I am tempted to kill everyone present, but even that is unlikely to help in this day and age." His annoyance is palpable, green eyes narrowed in an expression of extreme displeasure.

"Easy, Kit ! Perhaps this white noise is just defunct, and Barney hasn't noticed yet. Or our friend here is a keen listener indeed...
as white noises only block out cyberstuff..."

He looks towards the new guy.

"Hey ! I'm Henderson, that's Kit, nice to meet you. And you are ?"

Holliday walked into the bar, a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, and nodded towards Barney. He'd only been in this part of town for a few weeks, and had noticed the troll once or twice while out running... Nothing beat a jog in a neighborhood where you had to worry about getting shot at by Lone Star and the gangs at the same time. It didn't help that even in his street clothes, he seemed to scream out that he used to be a corp boy. The close cut dark hair and pale skin denoted too much time spent in doors, and the overly toned muscles and the quickness of his step shows just something a little... odd about his musculature, especially with soft looking hands and no visible scars.

His commlink connected with the bar's systems, and started his tab. He looked up to Barney, his sleek and slender human frame looking frail in comparison to the hulking mass of the troll, and grinned, "Two shots, and something to chase that drek down with."

He watched as the creds rolled out of his account, and realized for the first time, just how screwed he was, if he didn't find work soon. It was almost invigorating, knowing that for once, he was going o have to stand on his own two feet, nothing backing him but what God gave him, and corporate creds had installed in him.

As he waited, he felt, more than heard the music dim, as an alert popped up in his AR window, showing that his Dampers were activated due to dangerous sound levels, and he chuckled to himself, dismissing the alert, and de-activating the mod... there was no reason to feel the bass thump in his chest, if he wasn't going to hear it as well.

He looked around, taking stock of the patrons. Not the usual crew you'd think you'd see in a dive like this, especially in the Barrens.

He looks back to Barney, "So what's interesting? Got anything good going on in here that you know of?"

Picks pulls his Harley as close as reasonably possible to the door of the Dino, angle parking by the curb.

Don't really trust the alley parking, and don't really want to pay to get an other ding in an over crowded lot.

Picks removes his helmet, brushes his hair back and puts on his snug Sigg Arms cap, and unzips his vest to reveal a Wild Cats t-shirt. Arming the anti-theft system with a word, he walks away and pops his PAN into the appropriately "social" mode... "Picks" and avatar are up and running. Being closed off won't meet friends, and despite this place seeming to not have all its door hinges, it sounds lively.

Well, a long enough day diserves a double.

Picks walks over to the bar, as close as he can get to where the bartender is working, and sits half sits, half leans. Indicates an order of a double and casually points at a mid-shelf bottle.
Looking around the room - not paranoidly, but in an interested manner, Picks chews the last flavor out of his nicotene gum before his drink and observes.

Stepping in immediately upon pushing the doors open he scans the area . Taking an empty seat at the bar he spins around on the stool after denying a drink from the bartender with a not so subtle " frag off trog " .