Pulling back and allowing the elf his personal space, Kham said, "Yer gonna be late fer yer own meet, Mr. J."
"Perhaps you would care to precede me," the elf suggested.
Kham shrugged. "Ain't worried about having you behind my back, Mr. J. Yet."
Kham opened the door and entered the room. The elven Mr. Johnson followed.
The runners gathered for the meet were a mixed lot, but that was no surprise to Neko. Mr. Enterich had said that this was to be an ad hoc team. He surveyed each runner carefully, trying to assess his or her role and potential value to the team. Many showed obvious cybernetic enhancements and all carried weapons. All the orks, save for one, seemed to be muscle types, too. The odd ork, Rabo, had datajacks in his head and a variety of logo patches on his jacket, most advertising manufacturers of automotive or aeronautic equipment. There seemed little doubt that the ork was a rigger, a vehicular technomancer.
Neko found the preponderance of orks curious, even a trifle unsettling. Until now his contact with runners of that metatype in Hong Kong had been only the most cursory; the less beautiful metahumans were not much welcome in the island's corporate enclaves. It was not that Neko himself felt any distaste; he had dealt with far less savory metatypes in his shadowy business. He watched the orks curiously. Their easy familiarity with one another led him to conclude that they had run together in the past.
The orks named the dwarf for Neko: Greerson. Though they obviously didn't like him, Neko could see that they knew him, possibly had even worked with him in the past. Greerson's name was not unknown to Neko, and he knew that a runner with the dwarf's reputation within the international shadowrunning community would not come cheap. Mentally, Neko raised his own price for any upcoming bargaining; one could not afford to be seen as of less value than one's fellows.
The other two runners were a matched pair of heavily modified norms, "razorguys," in common street parlance. One was a blond and the other dark-haired, but the faces beneath their thatches of hair were identical. That need not be natural; Neko thought it more likely that they had chosen to have their features altered to match. Such artificiality would seem to be to their taste. Neko found their reliance on machinery more distasteful than the brutish forms of the orks, and so, like the others, he mostly ignored the razorguys. Such division would not serve on the run, but neither should he be forced to accept unpalatable companions in circumstances unrelated to the biz.
The door opened and admitted a blast of noise from the band starting to warm up in the main room. The sound was muffled briefly as a burly ork squeezed through the doorway. Dressed in leathers and fatigues, the metahuman entered and looked around with an air of casual caution that marked a man who was no stranger to dangerous places. Following hard on the ork's heels was the elven Mr. Johnson who Neko had met briefly upon his arrival in Seattle. The elf's clothes were different now, as were his hair and the fashionable face paint. Despite the superficial differences, the frown that darkened the slimmer metahuman's features when the ork put an arm around his shoulders told Neko that this was the same elf. It was not a lover's embrace, more a possessive statement of control. The elf was clearly discomfited by the contact, but the ork was only amused, to judge by his half-concealed grin.
'"Bout time," Greerson grumbled.
The elf ignored him and shrugged away from contact with the ork. Unfazed by his rejection, the big ork joined the others of his kind, with shoulder-slapping and arm-punching all around. The others addressed him as Kham, another name Neko recognized as associated with that of Sally Tsung, a runner and magician of no little reputation in certain circles. Neko had once heard the ork mentioned as muscle for one of Tsung's operations. As he recalled, that run had been successful, but one run did not a career make. Perhaps Kham's presence meant that Sally Tsung was involved in this operation, or possibly Tsung's decker Dodger. That would shift the balance in this muscle-heavy crowd. If one or both of them were on the run, Neko decided it would be a good omen.
The elf walked around the table and took the empty seat at the head. "Good evening, gentlemen, and lady," he said, with a condescending nod to Sheila. A broad-shouldered female ork the others referred to as The Weeze snarled, and the elf amended his salutation. "Ah, excuse me, ladies. I'm glad to see that you are all punctual."
"Unlike some people," Greerson said.
Neko noted that Kham glanced openly around the table, obvious% assessing the gathered runners. The ork stared curiously at Neko for a moment, a slight frown on his face. He seemed puzzled by Neko's presence in this crowd of heavy muscle. Neko offered him a slight smile. Let the ork wonder.
"I have for each of you a paper describing the deal," the elf said, passing a sheet to each of them. "Please read it quickly, as the paper is unstable and will decompose in a few minutes."
Greerson barely glanced at his sheet before tossing it to the table. "Price is too low."
Neko checked the compensation line on his sheet, and surreptitiously compared it to the sheets held by one of the razorguys and The Weeze, on either side of him. Both were the same as his. Likely, Greerson's was too. Though the sum was more than Neko was used to receiving for a simple bodyguard run, he said, "Greerson-san is correct."
The elf's stony expression did not change. "The fee was previously agreed upon, Mr. Greerson, Mr. Neko."
Greerson raised one stubby leg onto the table's edge and levered his chair back until it rested on two legs. "First price is always negotiable, especially when you got this many bodies involved."
"The number involved is not your concern. You were informed of your remuneration for this run. If you had a concern regarding compensation, you could have expressed it earlier."
"If I'd had any idea how many bodies you were talking, I would have. The money's definitely too low for me to play traffic cop."
Kham addressed the elf. "If da dwarf won't play, we can replace him wit anodder of our guys."
"Replace me?" Greerson laughed. "I didn't know you had fifty more warm bodies, orkboy."
"Don't need fifty to replace you, halfer," Sheila growled. She was the ork who had sho'wn blatant dislike upon seeing Greerson. Clearly, the two had a history.
"You're right, orkgirl. If you're a typical example of the quality, you'll need more."
Kham gave Sheila a look that quieted her, then said. "Look, Greerson, ya don't wanna work, dat's okay. Buzz, and let da rest of us get on wit da biz." The dwarf tried to start a stare-down, but Kham turned and addressed the elf. "Look, dis crew's all muscle. We facing any magic in da opposition?"
"Do not concern yourself," the elf replied quickly, having apparently anticipated such a question. "Any magical problems will be more than sufficiently countered."
"Heard that before," said the blond cyberboy.
"And it was a lie then, too," his dark-haired comjM panion added. JB
The elf gave them a plastic smile, shared it with the rest of the runners, and said, "Gentlemen, and ladies, I assure you that this run has a low probability of trouble."
Greerson spoke for them all. "Then why so much firepower?''
Again, the elf answered rapidly. "Insurance only. My employer is a cautious sort. You are all to be present simply as fire support in case of trouble. Trouble, I might add, that is most unlikely to come."
"And if it does?" asked the raven-haired cyberboy.
"What then?" the blond cyberboy queried. JB
"Then, you perform as per contract." '™
"For which we will receive a combat bonus," Greerson stated.