Post by darkstar on Apr 20, 2006 13:22:55 GMT -5
With a newly lit cigar dangling from his mouth and a fresh glass of
whiskey in his hand, Mr. Braxton enters the room, briefcase in hand.
He quickly takes a look around the room then takes his seat.
Removing the cigar from his mouth he says, "I'm gathering from the
looks on your faces that a decision was not made." He leans down and
places the briefcase flat on the table, then takes a shallow sip
from his glass. "You have questions I presume?" He leans back,
careful not to let his feet dangle from the large sofa seat, then
takes a quick draw from his stogie.
Looking uncomfortable, Tortuga watches Braxton as he enters the
room. Then he glances at everyone, and waits for the negotiations to
begin. Smiling and lifting the glass in salute, "Salud." Monk takes
a small drink. "You are quite right." Mr. Braxton nods and returns
the smile and salute.
Sitting back once more Monk continues, "First, I would like to have
a few things cleared up, if you would be so kind. I would like to
know how you knew who we," gesturing to the group at large, "were
and more importantly how you knew we would be here this evening?"
Chain leans forward and rests his arms on his knees. His eyes intent
on Braxton as he awaits the answer to Monk's question.
Mr. Braxton nods `yes' as Monk asks his questions, then sets his
brandy glass back on the table, careful not to scratch the expensive
wood. "Ah, yes! Well lady luck was on my side," he says cheerfully
as he clasps his hands together in front oh him. "I must admit that
Seattle is not my home turf, but I was told that this would be one
of the places to come to if ever in Seattle and a professional
runner was needed for a job. This was my first stop." He takes a
long drag from his stogie, his thoughts momentarily lost in the
enjoyment of the simple pleasure. Tapping the ashes into the enviro-
tray he continues, "Having never been to this fine establishment
before I took a seat at the bar and scoped the place out for awhile.
Then shortly after, I saw your group pass by and I noticed..." he
looks and nods towards the direction of Tank, "...your painted
face." His attention returns back towards Monk before continuing. "I
suspected it might be the runner that people in the biz call Tank,
so I asked the bartender, but he wouldn't confirm nor deny it." He
pauses to chuckle and takes another sip of his brandy. "Classy
joint, you got to respect that. Anyway, I was told there was a
skulled-faced man that works for a shadow team called Section 8. I
was also told that Section 8 is one of the top squads to call on
when you need a job done right. When I saw that there were eight of
you enjoying a meal together I just put two and two together. Well
in this case four and four," he smiles at his own joke, before
kneeling over to tap more ashes from his stogie. With a quirked
eyebrow and a low tone he leans back in his seat, "You are Section 8
are you not?" his European accent more prevalent with his question.
Tortuga states, "Sorry man, I gotta use the can. I'll be right
back." He nods apologetically to Mr. Braxton, rises, turns and
says, "Hey, Chain, take notes for me, would ya?" At this he heads
for the door.
Chain looks at Tortuga with a single eyebrow raised. With a grin, he
says, "Got it covered," before turning back to the exchange between
Monk and Braxton. Braxton lifts his class towards Tortuga before
taking another sip.
Monk sits quietly watching Braxton as he unveils his information.
Finding nothing about his demeanor to indicate he is lying outright,
he makes a small nod.
"Yes, it is a Class establishment. And obviously you have fairly
well informed friends to know about it and it's clientele. Not to
mention knowing about Section 8." Lifts glass, as if to drink, and
sniffs the aroma of the brandy instead, briefly closing his eyes.
Opening his eyes again, "That begs another question, however. Being
so well connected that you would know of us, why is it you are
seeking talent outside the zone of activity?" Monk doesn't appear to
notice Tortuga's exit as he looks at Braxton, awaiting his response.
Mr. Braxton returns his attention towards Monk, taking the time to
enjoy another draw on his cigar before he replies. "Well I
believe 'know' is a too strong of a word. With the exception of Tank
here..." gestures towards Tank then continues, "...I don't even know
your names. But yes I have heard your squad's name mentioned a time
or two." His eyes momentarily shift to his drink before he
continues. "As to your second question, I was here on other business
when I got the call from my clients. Given the time restraints I
thought it best to find someone here first before seeking talent
closer to the job." He takes another enjoyable draw, letting the
smoke slowly billow out the side of his mouth. "Now if that will
suffice, I'd like get back to the offer." His eyes scan the
group, "Do we have agreement with terms before I divulge the
specifics of the job?"
As Mr. Braxton speaks, Bang quietly stands behind the couch leaning
over only slightly, holding onto the back of the furniture to
support his weight. His stare is focused on Mr. Braxton but has a
far away look.
"Actually, not yet," Monk replies as he shifts slightly in the seat.
Mr. Braxton returns his attention back towards Monk, again taking a
long draw off his stogie as Monk speaks.
"Your offered fee is, while normally considered generous, at
present, a bit low for several reasons. Namely, Time Frame, Location
and Setup." Taking a small drink from the brandy snifter, he sets it
back on the table, "Let me explain briefly."
Mr. Braxton smiles and nods while giving Monk a `...sure go
ahead...' gesture with his cigar hand. Takes a quick draw, then
leans back in his chair in a relaxed fashion with his head resting
against his hand as smoke wafts off the end of his cigar.
"Time Frame," he begins, " is our first concern. As you have heard
of us and our reputation, and it is obvious you deal with people in
our line of business on a regular basis, you know that zero lead
time for a job lends itself to less than optimal resolution of the
job." Waving his hand in the Italian "so and so" fashion, "And that
affects both your desired results and possibly our reputation. Not
to mention increasing the likelihood of something being missed."
"Second," with a casual pointing motion as if ticking off points on
a board, " is, of course, Location. The zone of operation is
obviously fairly far from Seattle. While this is normally not an
issue, it raises several concerns on this particular job. Without
knowing where the op is to take place, we have no ability to assess
our access to resources that we normally would have, being outside
our normal operations zone. So, we would be operating without access
to a good deal of what it is that allows us to accomplish the jobs
we take with such efficiency and professionalism." Smiling, "Again,
normally not that much of an issue, but due to the other two
factors, it becomes one. Time, of course, restricts our ability to
make arrangements needed to insure the success of the op. And then
there is the Setup."
Mr. Braxton leans forward to take another sip of his brandy, leaving
it in his hand as he intently listens to Monk's well-articulated
speech.
With a conciliatory tilt of the head, "While I appreciate your
thoroughness in meeting your employers needs so quickly, the fact
that you have arranged transportation to the operations zone is a
matter of concern. Frankly, we don't know you. And the life breeds a
certain, healthy, level of paranoia."
With a winning smile, "While these points are delineated to assist
you in understanding that we currently find your offer low, they
should also serve to indicate, for certain, our thoroughness in
addressing the jobs which are brought to us."
With an 'almost as an afterthought look'... "Oh, yes. As well, the
lack of even, forgive the oxymoron, general specifics about the
operation theater and the mark make the offered price seem even more
inadequate." With a gesture and look, he cedes the conversation to
Braxton.
Mr. Braxton returns to his upright position when it's obvious Monk
has finished making his points, and returns his glass to the table
before responding. "I certainly can sympathize with your concerns.
However, my clients feel that the monetary offer alone is more then
adequate given the type of run. The level of risk of life is
significantly lower then say… one that requires you to infiltrate a
high security corp. building or matrix run. Not to mention all the
other added expenses they will be providing." Mr. Braxton leans
forward to tap the extended ash from his cigar, then returns his
gaze towards Monk. "My clients understand the lead time is an issue,
which why they offered to provide the necessary travel so you
wouldn't be troubled with having to deal with public travel or
making other arrangement yourself. However if you wish to forgo my
clients offer to provide hassle free transportation, we can transfer
that cost to your fee." He shifts his eyes up momentarily in a
thinking manner. "Eighty thousand for the private jet and capable
pilots, another two thousand for the rental cars and insurance, and
I suppose I could shave off 20 thousand from my own profits to
sweeten the deal. That's an additional 102k payable upon successful
completion of the job." Mr. Braxton takes another quick draw from
his stogie, and quickly blows the smoke to the side before
continuing. "I also understand your reputation is at stake here, as
is mine. Which is why I cannot give you specific details pertaining
to the target until we have an agreement of terms. I'm sure you can
sympathize with my situation as well. Now I have taken the liberty
to do some of the legwork for you. I will be providing maps, the
targets itinerary, as well as a few other items. Rest assured your
target, although high profile, will offer little direct resistance.
This is someone in the entertainment business. That's about all I
can offer you at this time." Mr. Braxton scans the room once
more. "What do you say?"
Hellion, quietly watching the negotiations, raises an eyebrow as he
looks at the other members of the team as if to get a feel for where
they all stand.
Monk smiles, as he appears to think about the offer. Looks from
member to member, briefly, gathering in their moods regarding the
offered deal. Nodding, as if in agreement, he turns back to Braxton.
A small smile touches his features, "I think that your arrangement
for the transportation will suffice. As I believe it would be overly
costly and problematic, again given the time frame, to arrange for
other transport."
"However, while a generous offer, I believe we would need three
hundred thousand; two hundred on the back end would be acceptable if
half is not easily arranged up front. That, along with the arranged
transportation should suffice to secure our services in this
arrangement."
Monk picks up the snifter and shifts it to his left hand, the right
hand resting on the edge of the couch in a very relaxed position. He
casually watches Braxton, waiting for his answer.
Again, taking the opportunity to enjoy his cigar while Monk speaks,
Mr. Braxton leans forward to tap the ashes off his cigar into the
enviro-tray, "Well, I'd love to be able to give you three hundred.
Hell I'd give you a million if it were up to me. I think you deserve
every nuyen you can get, but the simple fact is I don't have that
much flexibility in the deal. My best offer is the original deal,
plus an additional 20k from my own pocket on the backend." He
finishes off what brandy is left in his glass before continuing, "If
that's acceptable we can move forward, if not..." takes a quick
glance at his watch, and sets his glass down "...I need to try and
find another team." He returns his gaze upon the group, placing his
free hand on his briefcase.
Tank looks over at Monk from across the room, nodding in acceptance
once he has his attention. The far away look leaves Bang's face
momentarily as he shifts his attention from Mr. Braxton to Monk, "I
could use the cash". At which point he returns his gaze to Mr.
Braxton and seems to un-focus his eyes again. Star gives a silent
nod to Monk to continue to the next step. Chain seems to consider
the offer briefly before nodding. "What the hell, I'm in."
Looking again around the room Monk says, "Well, then, unless one of
my compatriots has a dissenting voice," with a look that says 'speak
up now', "I believe the final terms are acceptable." Monk sits back
into his seat and awaits his fellows input in silence.
whiskey in his hand, Mr. Braxton enters the room, briefcase in hand.
He quickly takes a look around the room then takes his seat.
Removing the cigar from his mouth he says, "I'm gathering from the
looks on your faces that a decision was not made." He leans down and
places the briefcase flat on the table, then takes a shallow sip
from his glass. "You have questions I presume?" He leans back,
careful not to let his feet dangle from the large sofa seat, then
takes a quick draw from his stogie.
Looking uncomfortable, Tortuga watches Braxton as he enters the
room. Then he glances at everyone, and waits for the negotiations to
begin. Smiling and lifting the glass in salute, "Salud." Monk takes
a small drink. "You are quite right." Mr. Braxton nods and returns
the smile and salute.
Sitting back once more Monk continues, "First, I would like to have
a few things cleared up, if you would be so kind. I would like to
know how you knew who we," gesturing to the group at large, "were
and more importantly how you knew we would be here this evening?"
Chain leans forward and rests his arms on his knees. His eyes intent
on Braxton as he awaits the answer to Monk's question.
Mr. Braxton nods `yes' as Monk asks his questions, then sets his
brandy glass back on the table, careful not to scratch the expensive
wood. "Ah, yes! Well lady luck was on my side," he says cheerfully
as he clasps his hands together in front oh him. "I must admit that
Seattle is not my home turf, but I was told that this would be one
of the places to come to if ever in Seattle and a professional
runner was needed for a job. This was my first stop." He takes a
long drag from his stogie, his thoughts momentarily lost in the
enjoyment of the simple pleasure. Tapping the ashes into the enviro-
tray he continues, "Having never been to this fine establishment
before I took a seat at the bar and scoped the place out for awhile.
Then shortly after, I saw your group pass by and I noticed..." he
looks and nods towards the direction of Tank, "...your painted
face." His attention returns back towards Monk before continuing. "I
suspected it might be the runner that people in the biz call Tank,
so I asked the bartender, but he wouldn't confirm nor deny it." He
pauses to chuckle and takes another sip of his brandy. "Classy
joint, you got to respect that. Anyway, I was told there was a
skulled-faced man that works for a shadow team called Section 8. I
was also told that Section 8 is one of the top squads to call on
when you need a job done right. When I saw that there were eight of
you enjoying a meal together I just put two and two together. Well
in this case four and four," he smiles at his own joke, before
kneeling over to tap more ashes from his stogie. With a quirked
eyebrow and a low tone he leans back in his seat, "You are Section 8
are you not?" his European accent more prevalent with his question.
Tortuga states, "Sorry man, I gotta use the can. I'll be right
back." He nods apologetically to Mr. Braxton, rises, turns and
says, "Hey, Chain, take notes for me, would ya?" At this he heads
for the door.
Chain looks at Tortuga with a single eyebrow raised. With a grin, he
says, "Got it covered," before turning back to the exchange between
Monk and Braxton. Braxton lifts his class towards Tortuga before
taking another sip.
Monk sits quietly watching Braxton as he unveils his information.
Finding nothing about his demeanor to indicate he is lying outright,
he makes a small nod.
"Yes, it is a Class establishment. And obviously you have fairly
well informed friends to know about it and it's clientele. Not to
mention knowing about Section 8." Lifts glass, as if to drink, and
sniffs the aroma of the brandy instead, briefly closing his eyes.
Opening his eyes again, "That begs another question, however. Being
so well connected that you would know of us, why is it you are
seeking talent outside the zone of activity?" Monk doesn't appear to
notice Tortuga's exit as he looks at Braxton, awaiting his response.
Mr. Braxton returns his attention towards Monk, taking the time to
enjoy another draw on his cigar before he replies. "Well I
believe 'know' is a too strong of a word. With the exception of Tank
here..." gestures towards Tank then continues, "...I don't even know
your names. But yes I have heard your squad's name mentioned a time
or two." His eyes momentarily shift to his drink before he
continues. "As to your second question, I was here on other business
when I got the call from my clients. Given the time restraints I
thought it best to find someone here first before seeking talent
closer to the job." He takes another enjoyable draw, letting the
smoke slowly billow out the side of his mouth. "Now if that will
suffice, I'd like get back to the offer." His eyes scan the
group, "Do we have agreement with terms before I divulge the
specifics of the job?"
As Mr. Braxton speaks, Bang quietly stands behind the couch leaning
over only slightly, holding onto the back of the furniture to
support his weight. His stare is focused on Mr. Braxton but has a
far away look.
"Actually, not yet," Monk replies as he shifts slightly in the seat.
Mr. Braxton returns his attention back towards Monk, again taking a
long draw off his stogie as Monk speaks.
"Your offered fee is, while normally considered generous, at
present, a bit low for several reasons. Namely, Time Frame, Location
and Setup." Taking a small drink from the brandy snifter, he sets it
back on the table, "Let me explain briefly."
Mr. Braxton smiles and nods while giving Monk a `...sure go
ahead...' gesture with his cigar hand. Takes a quick draw, then
leans back in his chair in a relaxed fashion with his head resting
against his hand as smoke wafts off the end of his cigar.
"Time Frame," he begins, " is our first concern. As you have heard
of us and our reputation, and it is obvious you deal with people in
our line of business on a regular basis, you know that zero lead
time for a job lends itself to less than optimal resolution of the
job." Waving his hand in the Italian "so and so" fashion, "And that
affects both your desired results and possibly our reputation. Not
to mention increasing the likelihood of something being missed."
"Second," with a casual pointing motion as if ticking off points on
a board, " is, of course, Location. The zone of operation is
obviously fairly far from Seattle. While this is normally not an
issue, it raises several concerns on this particular job. Without
knowing where the op is to take place, we have no ability to assess
our access to resources that we normally would have, being outside
our normal operations zone. So, we would be operating without access
to a good deal of what it is that allows us to accomplish the jobs
we take with such efficiency and professionalism." Smiling, "Again,
normally not that much of an issue, but due to the other two
factors, it becomes one. Time, of course, restricts our ability to
make arrangements needed to insure the success of the op. And then
there is the Setup."
Mr. Braxton leans forward to take another sip of his brandy, leaving
it in his hand as he intently listens to Monk's well-articulated
speech.
With a conciliatory tilt of the head, "While I appreciate your
thoroughness in meeting your employers needs so quickly, the fact
that you have arranged transportation to the operations zone is a
matter of concern. Frankly, we don't know you. And the life breeds a
certain, healthy, level of paranoia."
With a winning smile, "While these points are delineated to assist
you in understanding that we currently find your offer low, they
should also serve to indicate, for certain, our thoroughness in
addressing the jobs which are brought to us."
With an 'almost as an afterthought look'... "Oh, yes. As well, the
lack of even, forgive the oxymoron, general specifics about the
operation theater and the mark make the offered price seem even more
inadequate." With a gesture and look, he cedes the conversation to
Braxton.
Mr. Braxton returns to his upright position when it's obvious Monk
has finished making his points, and returns his glass to the table
before responding. "I certainly can sympathize with your concerns.
However, my clients feel that the monetary offer alone is more then
adequate given the type of run. The level of risk of life is
significantly lower then say… one that requires you to infiltrate a
high security corp. building or matrix run. Not to mention all the
other added expenses they will be providing." Mr. Braxton leans
forward to tap the extended ash from his cigar, then returns his
gaze towards Monk. "My clients understand the lead time is an issue,
which why they offered to provide the necessary travel so you
wouldn't be troubled with having to deal with public travel or
making other arrangement yourself. However if you wish to forgo my
clients offer to provide hassle free transportation, we can transfer
that cost to your fee." He shifts his eyes up momentarily in a
thinking manner. "Eighty thousand for the private jet and capable
pilots, another two thousand for the rental cars and insurance, and
I suppose I could shave off 20 thousand from my own profits to
sweeten the deal. That's an additional 102k payable upon successful
completion of the job." Mr. Braxton takes another quick draw from
his stogie, and quickly blows the smoke to the side before
continuing. "I also understand your reputation is at stake here, as
is mine. Which is why I cannot give you specific details pertaining
to the target until we have an agreement of terms. I'm sure you can
sympathize with my situation as well. Now I have taken the liberty
to do some of the legwork for you. I will be providing maps, the
targets itinerary, as well as a few other items. Rest assured your
target, although high profile, will offer little direct resistance.
This is someone in the entertainment business. That's about all I
can offer you at this time." Mr. Braxton scans the room once
more. "What do you say?"
Hellion, quietly watching the negotiations, raises an eyebrow as he
looks at the other members of the team as if to get a feel for where
they all stand.
Monk smiles, as he appears to think about the offer. Looks from
member to member, briefly, gathering in their moods regarding the
offered deal. Nodding, as if in agreement, he turns back to Braxton.
A small smile touches his features, "I think that your arrangement
for the transportation will suffice. As I believe it would be overly
costly and problematic, again given the time frame, to arrange for
other transport."
"However, while a generous offer, I believe we would need three
hundred thousand; two hundred on the back end would be acceptable if
half is not easily arranged up front. That, along with the arranged
transportation should suffice to secure our services in this
arrangement."
Monk picks up the snifter and shifts it to his left hand, the right
hand resting on the edge of the couch in a very relaxed position. He
casually watches Braxton, waiting for his answer.
Again, taking the opportunity to enjoy his cigar while Monk speaks,
Mr. Braxton leans forward to tap the ashes off his cigar into the
enviro-tray, "Well, I'd love to be able to give you three hundred.
Hell I'd give you a million if it were up to me. I think you deserve
every nuyen you can get, but the simple fact is I don't have that
much flexibility in the deal. My best offer is the original deal,
plus an additional 20k from my own pocket on the backend." He
finishes off what brandy is left in his glass before continuing, "If
that's acceptable we can move forward, if not..." takes a quick
glance at his watch, and sets his glass down "...I need to try and
find another team." He returns his gaze upon the group, placing his
free hand on his briefcase.
Tank looks over at Monk from across the room, nodding in acceptance
once he has his attention. The far away look leaves Bang's face
momentarily as he shifts his attention from Mr. Braxton to Monk, "I
could use the cash". At which point he returns his gaze to Mr.
Braxton and seems to un-focus his eyes again. Star gives a silent
nod to Monk to continue to the next step. Chain seems to consider
the offer briefly before nodding. "What the hell, I'm in."
Looking again around the room Monk says, "Well, then, unless one of
my compatriots has a dissenting voice," with a look that says 'speak
up now', "I believe the final terms are acceptable." Monk sits back
into his seat and awaits his fellows input in silence.