Each of you has made your way to the Gomi Emporium following a promise of a lucrative and almost certainly dangerous job. It’s what you do, after all. The Emporium hardly inspires confidence at first – from the outside, in the rain, after sundown, it looks like crap. A large junk shop filled with every kind of flotsam and thrift store cast-off imaginable. But the security cameras are state-of-the-art, the doors all have the weight of a solid tungsten-alloy core and the place is bigger than it looks from the outside. You’re led up two flights of stairs into the apartments above the old storefront and then into a large room obviously carved out of the top two storeys. There’s a massive screen on the wall at one end, with a small fortune in electronics on racks below it and, off to one side under big, barred windows sits a couch and chair group around a coffee table.
Lying in one corner is a full-grown Bengal Tiger, with the gleam of chrome at teeth, neck and legs and eerily human-looking eyes. It purrs contentedly as a slight woman in black clothing ruffles its fur, ignoring you for now. As the last of you enters the room a big, ugly man in washed-out fatigues enters, closes and locks the electronic lock on the door, then walks to the console under the big screen and touches a control. Immediately, you feel the static and hear the distant swishing hiss of a sonic hush field.
The slight brunette stands and clears her throat.
“Good evening, and thanks for coming. I trust we can rely on your confidentiality. You can call me Ragdoll, my colleague over there is Gabriel. We are both part of the senior management team here at the Gomi Emporium and answerable only to the owner, Lady Emily. She’s present too, via the big kitty you’ve all noticed. This is your last chance to back out – once we tell you what the job is you’re commited one way or another. Anyone? No? Then let’s get started shall we?”
Ragdoll steps to the end of the room and the lights dim as the big holo-projector screen hums into life.
“Two weeks ago, we got this squirt from a friend in Europe.”
The projector flickers and a face appears above the room, fuzzed by electronic noise and obviously entirely artificially constructed in the first place – an anonymous web avatar with a bit of hacker art thrown in.
“I had a dig around and I can confirm the rumors. A few months ago one of our bands of brothers did a hard ingress on the Re-Code Solutions facility in Wandsworth, took some nice hardware. They unloaded it all through a guy in Oslo we know, and he then resold to various buyers. The item you’re interested in was bought by the Bonn office of Dream Corp. I’m told it’s all fitted into one largish suitcase, or was when we procured it.
Your funds cleared, so I did a run on Dream Corp Bonn and found this. It was encrypted with one of their corporate black systems and had some nasty ICE hanging off it, but, well, it‘s what I‘m good at”
The projector image cuts to a shot of a text-only communication.
The scene cuts back to the hacker avatar.
“According to that, the package has been in Night City for about three weeks. That’s all I have for you right now. I look forward to doing biz with you again. Jamjar signing off.”
The holo screen blanks and the lights go back up. Ragdoll walks to the end of the long control console and leans on it.
“We want you to go get us that Ghost. We’re willing to pay $6000 each, $1,000 up front and the rest on delivery.
There are three key people we think will all have some knowledge of the item, and thus useful information on its exact whereabouts, security surrounding it and so forth.”
Yet again the lights dim, the holo-screen hums and three heads appear hovering in midair, two men and a woman.
“The first is the guy in that email – Albert “AJ” Deitner – the Vice President for R&D at DreamCorps and the man in charge of the DreamCorps Technology Research Center here in Night City. He lives in a secured luxury condo block for the Glitterati over in Clayton, a place called Talking Rock Tower.
The second is Shaina Chacon. Don’t let her looks fool you – she’s in charge of security for the Night City facility and is as hard as nails. Chacon came to DreamCorps via their Paris facility after an early career in the Northern Union’s counter-intelligence agency. Unsurprisingly, she is paranoid to a fault and we have no home address for her at this time.
Lastly, there’s Anthony Styleman, who is DreamCorp’s chief guru here in Night City. His official title is Chief Scientific Officer, TRC but he’s so much more than that. Styleman worked for the NSA as a sysop in his early years before defecting to SoCal and DreamCorp about eight years ago during a leveraged headhunting operation . He’s since developed techniques in sensie editing involving layering CG content over sensie data that you may have experienced in DreamCorps blockbuster sensie series “Conan and Red Sonja”. His team developed the processes that let DreamCorps make a seamless fantasy sensie experience, and blow the opposition away. There have been three attempts at leveraged headhunting since, so he’s under a security lockdown and lives in an apartment at the DreamCorps TRC facility in Bay point.
That’s all we have at the moment. Obviously, you’ll have to do a lot of legwork yourselves. We’ll assist as we are able, and can probably get some items of equipment or information you might need which is of dubious legality. We’ve a limited budget, but we’ll help where we can.”
The floating heads disappear and the lights go up.