Dateline: Same day as last session, 1400 local time.

The team have assembled back at Candyman’s lair, tired and windswept. They’ve had a couple of hours to wash, nap, and contact the interested parties. Now, they are awaiting the arrival of various negotiators and bag men. The first to arrive is unexpected. A slim and beautiful Asian woman shows up, telling them that she was given the address by the Emir. She wants to talk about a crashed AV. Mei sizes up the building from outdoors, thinking it an impressive hold for the small size of the group she was told about. Mei is sure she’s being watched from the several broken windows in the tower above – her skin prickles with the knowledge some are probably watching through gunsights.

Francheska comms Candyman on their personal channel: “Father, we have a visitor – I’m sure the first of the day. But she is not on my database. Should I detain her or see her off?” Candyman replies, “Aequitas, it could be someone related to the ‘Ghost’, we did recover it in the Emir’s territory. I’ll be right down, escort her in please.” He turns to the others. “Looks like we might have a visitor”, easing out of his chair and throwing his coat on, he tosses the next words over his shoulder, “might be related to the ‘Ghost’. I’ll be heading down, welcome to come along or enjoy yourself here, I’ll be back shortly regardless.” Pacoy shrugs and joins Candyman, mostly out of curiosity.

Behind them in the rest area they leave Able sitting at a table, the briefcase with the Ghost on it before him. A cable snakes from his neck down to an interface port on the side of the Ghost, and Able has his eyes closed, clearly communing with his interface. He is deep in concentration as information rapidly streams up the interface and into his storage banks, the entire digital signature of the Ghost within the case packaged up and shipped into Able’s skull. This is clearly a taxing process; Able has begun to perspire greatly, and if anyone were to touch the interface it would be quite hot to the touch. Pitbull is lounging in his favorite chair, cleaning and maintaining his Reaper, with a cigarette hanging from his lips while Garrion stays by Able to watch and guard him while he works, supposing that the others can handle everything.

Pitbull locks and loads his Reaper then stands to follow Candy, gun raised in a ready position, but is waved back with a smile, “We don’t need to be rude Pitbull, just guard the ‘Ghost’, more valuable than me anyways.” He goes back to his cleaning, idly watching Able as his own hands glide over the Reaper with assured deftness.

Below, the massive front doors of the former prison slowly lever open on their hydraulic systems, slabs of solid ceramic clad in steel. Mei is surprised to see a slim girl, perhaps 14 or 15, standing in the big doorway with a bouquet of hothouse flowers. the girl speaks: “Ma’am, my Sister has told me to bring you to Father. If you would please come with me.” She turns to lead the way. Mei follows the young girl into the building, the look of confusion at her greeter clearly visible on her brow. "I understand this the hold of man called “Candyman?” I speak with him if possible," her Chinese accent is obvious. The girl bobs a bow, “Yes, Ma’am,” she touches her ear, “Father is on his way down to meet you now.” She gestures to an elevator, the only one in a bank of three that is working. ,The elevator ‘dings’ open and two men step out. Both are slim and dark-haired, well dressed. One nods to the young girl and smiles at her before waving a hand to dismiss her.

Dateline: Continued from last session, 0630 local time.

The short but brutal fight for Toenail Tower is over. Losses: the Sharks: 3 dead, 4 wounded. Desiderium: 3 dead, 8 wounded. Toes: 9 dead, 16 wounded. The remaining Toes are given a swift ultimatum – join Desiderium or flee – and some stay to be overseen by Candy’s lieutenant Francheska. Shania Chacon, Garrion and Candyman stand in front of the tower, the slimly gorgeous Dream Corps security chief silently sizing up her captors as they organize the mop-up. Around them, the members of Desiderium are administering first aid to the wounded and looking over the dead for valuables worth stripping prior to selling the carcasses to Resyk Inc. as Pitbull stalks among the surrendered, eyes searching like a predatory cat for anyone who has the nerve to fight back after the fight, Reaper poised in a ready position. High above them, atop the tower, Able stands by Chacon’s luxury AV, examining it from a distance and trying to determine whether it has any extra traps or security systems other than the sonic screamer security system that comes factory installed on this model. Nearby, Pacoy releases another buzz-drone and sets it to patrol the sky.

Looking in through the windshield with his Reaper’s sight set on high, Able spots the tell-tale apertures of an internal gas delivery system under the pilot’s seat. He sighs and begins gathering items to help him disable the car’s security system – a set of pliers left lying around, some wires ripped from the wall of the building, a piece of rebar, and other odds and ends. “Hey, Able, Do you need to borrow some tools?” Pacoy calls. Able looks up from his scrounging, “Yes, that would be good.” “Hang on, let me grab the GOOD stuff from the van”

Meanwhile, down below, Candyman is getting frustrated. "No, report to the Aequitas, over there. Yes, the tall woman over there,” he points, “now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some time sensitive business to take care of.” Seeing him turn her way, Chacon speaks with a hint of French accent, “You seem to be in charge here – at least it was your voice offering me safe conduct. Well?” She arches an eyebrow. “Yes, Mrs. Chacon. Your safety is assured, but we have some requests that will expedite the process.” Chacon smiles at Candyman, “I don’t think it would be good form to give in to requests without some comme-ci-comme-ca, now would it?”

Garrion leaves Candy to his negotiations and touches his throat mike, “How are things going up there Able? What security is in place?” Able’s voice comes back quickly, distracted by his problem: : “Gas suppression system in the cockpit, and the model comes standard with a sonic screamer ‘theft alarm’ system. Give me a few minutes and we should have it open and ready.”

However, that a few minutes may be too long a time is confirmed an instant later as Wormwood breaks in on comms from his position at the Dream Corps facility, “Whoa, the lights all went out at Dreampark! I hope you guys are ready for our guy when he bolts!”

Dateline: day after last session, 0100 local time.

The team have been down in Candyman‘s armory and on the basement range at his base of operations all evening, although Candyman stepped out to take an urgent phone call about an hour ago. When he came back, he told the rest that the Emir was sending over someone who owed him, to help out some. The guy should be due round about now. They have all gathered in the Desiderium Cartel’s first floor parking level as a big grey van ghosts silently up the ramp.

Pitbull lights a cigarette, “Oh hey, I found a smoke in my back pocket.”

Candyman speaks to the others, “I hear this guy is good, bit of a drone wizard. It’ll be interesting to see,” he glances over to Hugh, “if you can keep up. Humm also, how are the Reapers treating you guys – they are pretty new so I’ve yet to test them out personally. The kids don’t need toys of that caliber so you guys are the first. Opinions?” Getting three very enthusiastic responses from Garrion, Pitbull and Able, he continues, “We should be about ready after we brief the new guy. I’ve got the Sharks circling – just waiting on the ‘witch’ to fly her broomstick over. Most of the kids are down there with the Capa’s boys, should be pretty safe when we cruise in. I’ve got an armored truck we use to move merchandise, should keep us safe till we get in position.”

The van parks and out of it climbs an average looking Filipino American man in his mid-twenties, in a suit and tie. Garrion’s reaction is immediate, “Man he’s going to stick out in that attire, I hope he brought something a little less dressy.” Candy man steps forward and extends his hand. “Welcome to Cabrini-Grean, I’m Candyman, or Candy to my friends. You must be Pacoy. A pleasure – the Emir speaks highly of your skill set.”

The newcomer replies, “You must be the Candyman, then – Emir says you might be able to use my services?” "Yes, Candy nods, “your timing is most fortuitous. We’re about to move in on a gang known as the Black Toenails, a puppet organization it seems, who are working with Dream Corp. I’ll uplink the specifics to your HUD.” Candy waits for clearance and begins streaming his report over from his computer implant, “let me know if you have any questions, and glad to have you on the team.” Pacoy shrugs. Like he has a choice – Friedlander Bey can be very persuasive when you have a gambling habit and have just dropped six large on his tables. “Got it. Seems straight forward. Looks like a good plan, solid crew, glad to be a part of it!”