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Leech

Monsters, mayhem and monkey business

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"Well, may I sit?" taking a bit of liberty he sits opossite The Colonel. "Some skilled chummers saved a friend of mine on the street about 15 minutes ago, infront of this club, where they just came out of... and I wanted to thank them personally. Oh my name is Archie Goodwin, but most people call me Nero. Oh and can I ask what is your name, the nice barman over there didn't supply it." (Hey fast talk what can he say it's a gift)

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"Yes, please do sit. My name... people about these parts call me The Colonel." Says The Colonel with a somewhat suspious look on his face. "As for the group you mentioned, well.... let's just say they're Asset Redistribution Agents whom I supply with contracts from time to time." He pauses for a few seconds to size up the man in front of him. "Might I ask what line of work you are in?"

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"Ah, well then" responded Nero "I guess you could say I have re-distributed a reasonable amount of assets from time to time myself. Mostly I'm a private detective, before you ask, yes ex lone-star, I got sick of getting hosed for and by bad guy's and being paid less than what chickens can eat."

 

Nero continued "I like defending those who can't help themselves, but it doesn't always pay particularly well and I gotta eat. Not to mention I'm a sucker for a pretty smile or a hard luck case."

 

Summing up Nero concluded "So judging from the purposful movements of those chums, they were heading off to do some asset management?"

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"Does your curiosity indicate you're looking for work in the same line?" Asks The Colonel. "Because I do have some 'contracts' on the books right about now, but I'm not sure you're qualified."

 

The Colonel leans back in his chair and studies his 'guest' for a minutes or two. Once he's made his decision he leans forward again.

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"Yes, I would be looking for some contracts. I'm at a loose end at the moment, and a bit of ready cash is always usefull." stated Nero (starting to look very intriged) "I'm up for pretty much anything, I don't have much love for the corps, and screwing around with them is a fun form of entertainment. I just don't like splash jobs very much, infact I won't do them, but just about anything else." (Nero wonders why he's trying so hard to impress, then puts it down to liking the look of the bloke across the table)

 

"MMM.. as for qualifications, I'm not sure what I can say, say I've been a fly swatter for 10 years, and an indepedant contractor for about 4. And I have a sense of humour!" Nero grinned, flashing his pearly whites.

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"Hmm, a fly swatter... I assume you don't mean professional bug hunter as I'd most certainly have heard of you before now. Bug hunts, now there's a way to get the juices flowing." Says The Colonel as he fixes his guest's eyes with his own. "So I'll take that to mean you're ex-Star. I wouldn't go spreading that everywhere, especially the line of work you're about to enter, but that does guarantee you'll have certain skills, skills which are always useful."

 

The Colonel leans back again and takes a swig of his drink, bourbon by the look and smell, and then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pocket secretary. "You'd best high tail it to this address." He says, offering to squirt the info into Nero's pocket secretary. "You'll be working with several other Asset Redistribution Agents, but I don't think there will be any problems."

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"Been in that area before, nice place, but not somewhere you'd take your kids," replied Nero. "Do you happen to have something to identify me to them, I'd rather not have to dodge too many bullets tonight!". Handing over his pocket secretary to be uploaded (no puns intended).

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"If there's any problems tell them I sent you, but turning up for that meeting should be good enough." Responds The Colonel. "And you'd best get the lead out if you plan on making it in time."

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Nero nods, grins then stands up. He holds out his hand to shake the Colonel's. Then he moves quickly back to the weapon's locker, hands over his ticket. Tip his hat to the girl as she undo's the bracelet and hand's over his tools.

 

Moving out he tips his hat to the cover charge girl, and the door troll. Turning sharply to the left, out of sight of the club he starts sprinting toward's his Americar, parked two blocks away.

 

Getting in the battered hulk, he jams the gearstick into first leaving a little trail of tin can's rattleing in his wake. (Seems tonight just got more interesting)

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The rain has eased off some as you pull up near the Round Blimp, but your tyres still cause a few splashes. As you step out of your car your foot narrowly misses a puddle that makes you doubt you've have made it back out.

 

The neighbourhood isn't the best in the Sprawl but compared to the Barrens, this place is 5 star. There is a fair amount of litter and rubbish on the sidewalks as you make your way to the bar's door.

 

Looking around you see dingy houses and almost as dingy faces. The residents look scrawny and on edge but at least they're trying to be discreet with their weapons.

 

Stood eitherside of the door to the Round Blimp, almost like book ends, are a pair of large men. One is a human, least you think he's human because his bulk is formidable, while the other is a troll. Neither look like they've kept themselves in very good shape, their soggy mid-sections plainly visible under their greasy and clearly unwashed t-shirts. Both have knives on their belts and the troll looks like he has a gun somewhat hidden under his jacket.

 

The pair don't even bat an eyelid as you walk into the bar, and three paces past them you enter the bar proper. Just as you do you hear a bell toll and someone shouts "last orders!". Seems you've made it in time.

 

The Round Blimp itself certainly doesn't have any pretentions, the walls are covered in smoke stained yellow wall paper and badly hung paintings. The seats are cracked and torn, but at least the bar looks clean (ish).

 

You walk up to the bar and ask for a drink. When the bartender returns with your drink he looks yo up and down then walks away.

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Nero, drops down another gear, getting the most out of his battered hulk of a car. He know's he's late, but hey that is still fashionable. He wonders what he will find at the meet, and whether there will be any problems with the other runners.

 

Ah well he thinks to himself, as he turns up the chipdeck volume, dodges a cat (well it might have been a cat) and continues down the nasty streets.

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Two Dogs looks at Syd and says "I think the bartender didn't know we were looking for some one."  Sipping from his beer he essays to ask the bartender, "Perhaps there is a person waiting to meet with other persons here?"  Meanwhile Two Dogs will look around for possible candidates to be our Mr. Johnson.

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"Listen chummer, lemme clue you in." Says the bartender as he leans on the counter in front of Two Dogs. "This is a runner bar. There's always someone looking for someone else and there's always someone waiting to meet someone else. Gimme a name and we'll see."

 

The bartender walks back down the bar to server some customers.

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"Oi!!" Syd says as the tender walks away. He downs his drink and puts the glass on the table, waiting for the next shot. When the bartender shows up, Syd gets up on his toes to whisper into his ear. "Were looking for our new boss. The bloke goes by the name of Johnson."

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