PRIVATE Professional Friends

Owner of The Parlour
Tag: @Omega
Location: Red's Office at The Parlour, Watson, NC

It was good to have friends who could help you. As cliche as that sounded, it was shockingly very true. For me, calling anyone in this city a friend was seldom a thing. However, there were many who would consider me as such. It mattered little to me so long as they did their job and the eddies rolled in. Yet, while much of my recent time has been spent taking care of paperwork for city ordinances, it also has been taken up by establishing new relations with others. My network was growing beyond its original scope almost steadily. For me, that was a sign of good biz to come. All the better for raking in more eddies.

Yet, there was one character that I had known for quite some time now. While some would call her a friend in low places, her and I met at around the same level. She was already part of the network associated with my previous employer. However, as I slowly rose through the ranks, it did not take much to secure better relations. To wear the face of a friend comes easy in my line of work, and she has proven to be ever so reliable in giving me a helping hand with the net. Netrunners were plentiful in Night City, yet having one you know and could actually trust to do their job was something that filtered many of such beings. The common scum would be quickly weeded out, for sure. That was where Omega came into the picture.

Unlike others I have come to know in recent time, Omega was one who did not need to audition for me to start doing business with her. One could say that before I could even orchestrate any auditions, work was already being done between us. All better to have a reliable netrunner in the pocket without having to shop for one. As I sat comfortably in my seat, I made a few glances around the room to make sure no ears that didn't belong to me were around. As things were secure, I began the call.

The image appeared on the monitor, and I put on my friendly face. "Hey there! How's my favorite gal on the net doing?", the cheery tone almost sounded too patronizing. I definitely lost my touch since running the place. "I got some work for you, if your interested, dearie." I then leaned back in my chair looking comfortable as I awaited her reply. If I knew her, she would very much enjoy the opportunity for some good work. Omega has yet to disappoint me. Such reliability was something I would be wise to keep as close as possible.
 
Watson
The Parlour
Red's Office
@Red Bulloch


She was kicking rocks this time, no board today. Even here in NorCal, January brought a bite to the air that wasn't the most pleasant on the board. When she gets going and the wind starts snapping, it feels like her face ends up with a thousand paper cuts. She loved a good rosy cheek much as the next girl, of course. And yeah, she didn't mind pain as a general rule. It's a whole new kinda pain when your face feels like it's been sliced and diced.

Walking wasn't so bad. Probably had a better chance of survival on foot than the average person did in a car. People just can't drive, was her belief. That and they're all crazy. Wicked combo when you got a wrecking ball under your butt cheeks. It was with the thought of butt cheek-shaped wrecking balls, that she pushed into The Parlour.

Truth be told, Omega felt awkward every time she stepped into the place. Any bar, really. It was all the people congregated round the bar. Or huddled over private tables, customers lost in their own lil worlds, deep in their cups. It wasn't the solo flyers that made her itchy. Them, she could identify with. On the rare occasion she did take a bar stool, she did her best to meld with the chair or the bar top. Anything to avoid the interest of someone, anyone. If someone tried to engage her in random convo, that person better be getting it on hidden video and send that shit in to America's Funniest. Omega had the social graces of a dead feral cat. Rabies and all.

Fixing her path towards Red's office, she double timed it thru the main bar area. She tried to be careful and avoid occupied tables, so she skirted and scooted her way thru, quite thankful it wasn't later.

People. Everywhere.

She pushed into Red's office with a really loud, relieved exhale. Closing the door firmly behind her, she looks over to Red as the handle clicks shut. Gives the belle a grin and shuffles towards an empty chair. Her pack is shrugged unceremoniously from her shoulder to the floor and Omega flops into the chair beside. When Red mentioned a job, one brow perked up betraying her interest right away.

I'm kinda fond of food, so til they start giving it away...

Her English was perfect but she would forever be marked as foreign by her thick Russian accent. Born and bred in NC, her home life had been quite strict. Russian only in the home, and if they'd lived back in the "Mother Land" according to her parents, she'd never have learned the inferior English language. But, they didn't and she did. She let her words trail off with an excessively dramatic eye roll that only the youth of the world can manage to get perfect every single time.

She grinned again while she listened as Red gives her the deets about the job. She and Red knew each other for a little while now. When Red first took over with the Parlour in mind, Omega had heard bout the new fixer thru the grapevine. When a potential new source comes to town and looks to set up shop, word spreads. Omega watched from a distance for a couple days while she did her due diligence. She wasn't in a rush, she'd long ago learned the value in patience. Plus, the damn bar was open. Which meant people.

Didn't take long and her curiosity overwhelmed her social anxiety and the roller brat ventured into The Parlour, and made the new owner's acquaintence. Omega was the junior of the pair, far as age went. Good thing she couldn't stand the way liquor made her feel, she didn't need to worry about any hassle over how young she looks. Red has spotted the youngin' right away, Omega stuck out like a sore thumb. Platinum blonde hair braided and shaved on the sides, wearing her roller derby team's shirt. Combat Zone Canons, or so the shirt proclaimed in bold black text over a patchwork shirt of bronze and red.

Red came to her rescue, oozing Southern charm and hospitality. She shephrded Omega to her office, for which she was eternally grateful. The pair chatted for a bit, each taking the measure of the other the whole while. Omega was, anyways, she couldn't say for sure bout Red. Honestly tho, it was the ebb and flow of their conversartion that attuned Omega to the cunningness of her new friend. There was a shrewdness to Red, expertly curated and artfully interwoven intto that damn Southern charm. Gets ya every time.


Cautious and alert, but willing to see how the dice shook out, the pair started working together. Baby steps to build trust and see what the other was capable of. At this point, Omega didn't trust Red at all. But she did trust in Red's hunger, cause it was in Red, that Omega saw her own hunger and drive mirrored. And that was something she could understand and work with.
 
Tag: @Omega
Location: Red's Office at The Parlour, Watson, NC

As she would walk into my office, how I would spin the information would be conspired in my web of thoughts. Unlike me, she was a native to this town. She knew the types of folks that called this cybernetic jungle home probably just as well, if not better, than I did. While it was certainly true I have learned much since coming here as a 19 year old runaway, one who is born and raised in this city will know much. For that, I needed someone of that sort of ilk that I could at least trust with reliable performance. While Netrunners came a dime a dozen in this town, those I would be willing to let in on my operations were few.

Her humor of enjoying food meant I had her open to hear what I had in mind. The first, was a rather simple one. More so my past dealing with Mr. @Dmitri Antonov. In his most generous kindness, he offered to help fast track bureaucratic forms for the club. Of course, he wanted something out of it. He was a corpo who managed the streets like it was an office block. Of course, he would get something from this deal. He wanted information from what sources I had when he wanted. It was a request surprisingly noninvasive for a corpo. However, there was still a good chance he was just smart and only stuck his toe in the door rather than asking for everything from the get-go. Regardless, I would sit comfortably while sliding the tablet he gave me to my Netrunner acquaintance.


"Here's the first job I have for you, dear. It's quite simple, and I got your payment all set if you take it. It should be easy for a gal of your talents." As she took the tablet, she could clearly see these were forms and documents meant for permits to the city's board. "I have no doubt you know what those forms are meant to go to. I just need your services to scan them to make sure the new friend of mine who gave me these all sorted out are clean of any high grade surprises. Should be quick and easy eddies for you there, darling." In truth, it should be indeed. Scanning documents should be nothing to what Omega has already helped me with. If there were any nasty surprises, I had some ounce of faith that she had the hardware and know-how to deal with them and clean out the docs if possible. Otherwise, I'd have a fun talk with Mr. Dmitri some time soon. He assured me they would be clean, yet I didn't get to where I sit now by avoiding crossing my t's and dotting my i's.

I then would lean forward after explaining that more simple gig. I had no doubt she would take it, but would press on with another offer that may be to her liking as well. One where I would need someone I'd trust as an eye in the sky. "There is another gig as well, dear, if you'd want it." I would pause while one of the girls came in and gave us both glasses of water with lime garnish. "You see, some little birdie has a somewhat low stakes gig that is worth assembling a crew for." While vagueness would be seen as fear, here it is a matter of not revealing too much until I knew she was in. Why waste telling someone deets if they would just turn you down? I got a merc by the name of Redline Graves who will do much of the legwork, however I would like someone of my more regular employ to just keep an eye on things. This too should be easy eddies for you if you are interested." I then took a sip while keeping an open but opaque expression, my business face one would say. "What do you say, dearie? You want in?"
 
Step into my parlour, said the Spider to the fly...

Got me fucked up, Omega spouted silently to herself as Red gave her, not surprisingly, few deets at all on job numero uno. Have docs, will scan. Her head tilted to one side all a sudden, as she considered whether #HAVEDOCSWILLSCAN could be added to her hustle list. Deciding the slogan needs work, she shifted more comfortably in her comfy chair while her eyes and ears focused on everything Red wasn't saying while the runner snatched up the tablet.

She didn't go to work right away, she wasn't in a hurry. Not today, anyways. She'd been working pretty regular on her own lately, and the team had really been drawing some killer crowds last few matches. Sales go up, and the sponsors remember there's human being's bleeding for every single fuckin eddie they covet. Boss calls it a "Performance Incentive". I call one hell of a semantics debate. But how ya feed yourself don't mean a damn thing when you haven't eaten in a day or two. All a sudden, that pain in your gut that keeps you awake at night gets too much.

And you take the fuckin money.

So, yeah. She was feeling pretty fat and sassy today, belly nice and full for a change. She grinned at a thought. What if Red's southern belle thing was rubbing off on Omega? The slow southern drawl. All the ancient tales of the American South and the Wild West, how time moved at a more leisurely pace. Didn't rush less you had to. And right now, Omega didn't have to. Which also gave her time to really focus on the task at hand. All of them.

Omega is young, for sure. But she's got more than your average CBZ kid dose of common sense and she had the benefit of being raised by her Nana, a MedTech who taught Omega more about people and deception than she ever taught her about math and science combined. Add to the mix, Omega had seen the same hunger in Red she had herself. She knew Red was smart, which is 'bout the only reason Omega took that first job to test the waters. Can't just go rushing in blind, ya know. That kinda hunger can drive ya to do all kinds of things, and Omega was under disillusion as to the nature of their relationship. At the end of the day, it was business first. With that in mind, Omega turned to the tablet in her hands.

Face value, it looked like permits, licensing, tax forms and all that paperwork red tape mumbo jumbo. She scrolled thru to the bottom her first pass, get a general idea of what she's gonna be scanning. Back to Page 1, then she flips one cybereye to look at Red. You checked all the details? Name, address, is everything connected with you all your legal info, yeah? Omega was figuring it was all Red's legal info. Wouldn't make a whole lot of sense to bother Omega with it at all if she was gonna use a synthetic ID or some other false bs. She would've asked Omega to be checking these out for a whole different reason, were that the case, Omega would guess. Either way, she would wait for Red to give the yay or nay on the legitness of the doc's details, then she'd get to work.

If Omega had much of an ego, she'd have given Red the biggest eyeroll of her life that there was any doubt Omega wasn't up the the task. But she doesn't so she didn't. For this tablet, sliding in and out and getting the job done was gonna be cake. Unless Red's lil friend did indeed leave a lil parting gift. In which case...Omega would die with her consciousness inside a digital device. She'd be fine with that.
Honestly.

A quick looksy and she found a spot she could hop in at, and in a blink of an eye, she was running thru every line of code associated with the docs, virus scans, searching for anything possibly laying dormant. So far, so good. She was a minute or so in, and she was reasonably sure she was still alive. Would she know if she died? What if there was another nuke and the whole damn bar had been burnt to a crisp? That was honestly a kinda distressing thought for the kid. She started moving her meatlips in silence, mouth forming the stream of neverending curses she was leveling at herself in mental Russian. She wasn't convinced she wasn't dead yet, but she figured she may as well finish the job. Cause she wanted her damn money! When she was finally satisfied Red's friend had indeed presented the docs as legal and clean, the word was backed up. Omega turned her attention to each page then. Double, or was it triple now, checking herself, she also made a copy of all names, info and contact info for herself, saved on her implanted cyberdeck. After a couples minutes time on the meat world clock, Omega blinks a few times and slides the tablet across the table to Red.

It's clean. All good and legal. Ya buddy seems to be a man of his word. Give him my thanks for no brain bomb. She gave a seriously pessimistic eyeroll that just screamed See how long that lasts. She tipped her head back and to one side, kinda looking at Red from a funky angle. But uhhh...Hope you ain't giving him much in return.

Wasn't long after, Red's girl came with perfectly timed refreshments. Omega's body temperature had risen slightly and she had cottonmouth like a mfker. Omega may have common sense, but what she missed the lesson on was manners. She was able to restrain herself from snatching both the glasses, deciding she wasn't that thirsty it would be worth insulting the fixer in her own spot. She did, however, down the glass and waggle the now empty glass obnoxiously in the air. Keep em comin'.

A second job? Is the rapture bout to happen, cause she's getting paid today AND offered an even better gig? Goddamn, she hated being poor! Against her own better judgement, she couldn't fight back that itch that was starting deep and low within. The idea of a challenge was her love language. And she was lonely. But not stupid.

Low stakes but it's worth aseembling a crew for? I call bullshit, Red. What's the catch?

She glanced towards the door, eager for beverage girl to hurry back.

@Red Bulloch


 
Tag: Omega
Location: Red's Office at The Parlour, Watson, NC

For me, my mission was to continue sitting in the appearance of comfort. A subtle lean back, a crossing of the legs under my desk, and a calm yet satisfied expression on my face would do that trick. Internally, I was hoping there was no surprises left behind. Mr. @Dmitri Antonov did assure that there would be no fancy surprises. Considering the arrangements that had been made between him and I, or at least starting to be made, I better have had this work for the sake of my dignity. Sure, my past was not dignified in the slightest, yet as a club owner and up-and-coming mover in the street politics of this city, dignity was now a resource that was very necessary.

My Netrunner friend would soon come out of the trance-like state she entered while working on the docs. She seemed alive and well. Very good, indeed. She would ask questions about how credible the information on the tablet was. I would calmly say, "For all you need to know, dearie, yes. Considering the documents are legit, and there's no surprises in the programming one as ... talented as you found, I can take care of it from here." I then would give a small smirk of playfulness before taking a sip from my glass that was brought out by the serving girl. Well, Mr. Dmitri, I thought to myself, it appears you get by this time.

I would nod to her remarks about giving my "buddy" her regards for no brain bomb. Perhaps Mr. Dmitri would get such a word when he stops by again.

It appears my foot in the door worked. I got her interest in the gig. Perfection, for certain. She was smart though. She did not bite immediately. My smirk was now real rather than an image of playfulness. Such was reflected by a shimmer produced in my eyes as a tell of satisfaction. It means she might indeed be apt for the job. "Every job worth eddies requires a crew, Omega darling. It doesn't matter if its pickpocketing or a high-stakes heist, or even zeroing some punk or exec." Another sip would be taken, finishing my small glass, where I leave the glass on my desk with a slight rattling of the ice now stewing in the remaining liquid. "There's a minimal catch, as long as the good folks selected for this gig do things right. It involves some big-time corpo interest, but if this team is fast, and you ensure they don't do anything stupid my dear, then things should go without a hitch." I then would lean forward slightly and tilt my head before chiding another time, "Do I have your interest, dearie?", with a look in my eye showing that there was indeed a plan.
 
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