* * * * *
This room sitting on the eight floor of the an abandoned office building, the years of battering time evident in the missing paint and peeling ceiling tiles. Brandon stood with his contact Oscar, a fixer that usually specialized in cross corporation transactions. They were paid to acquire a state of the art processor from an inside man with Mitsuhama. Their meeting with a man from the buyer was trying to look as neutral as possible, but the tech hanging over his eye and the stamping put him as an agent for Renraku.
This room sitting on the eight floor of the an abandoned office building, the years of battering time evident in the missing paint and peeling ceiling tiles. Brandon stood with his contact Oscar, a fixer that usually specialized in cross corporation transactions. They were paid to acquire a state of the art processor from an inside man with Mitsuhama. Their meeting with a man from the buyer was trying to look as neutral as possible, but the tech hanging over his eye and the stamping put him as an agent for Renraku.
But everything goes black after the case is handed off and Brandon starts to take the payment. Only to find that Oscar had hit him with that damn stun gun he carries. Unfortunately the agent was planning to skip out with the payment and the processor with Oscar in tow, only for Oscar to shoot him when his back was turned. Oscar placed one case next to the other and loomed over Brandon for a minute to speak. "Sorry this had to happen man.. its just business and all, but I can't risk you spreading word about this to anyone." Even though, Brandon knew that he would most likely sell the processor to a higher bid. A million nuyen had already been invested in this deal, more then a sizable chunk of what even he hopes to make back from the finished deal.
Now it seemed Oscar was going to take a large chunk out of his investment and then kill him to put the icing on this little situation. "Any last words?" He asked Brandon before pulling his own gun on, though it was easy to see that he was uneasy with the weight of the weapon. Brandon was only left to smile as he got up on a knee to steady himself. "Yeah, I'm gonna have to say I'm sorry too" Oscar cocks an eyebrow for a moment but it was too slow to realize. The chromatic knuckles on his right hand balled up and he torched his punch up into Oscars body, in a fashion and power that would most likely render him unable to breed for the rest of his life. Hence a rolling popping noise was easy enough to discern that Brandon as the gun and then Oscar fell to the floor. The man rolled for a few moments, rasping groans escaping him before he sputtered a response "Was that.. really necessary.. for flipping on you?"
Brandon stood, retaking his weapon and pulling the slide back to check the round. "No old friend, that was for narking on the deal and this.. is for flipping on me." Oscars eyes only had the chance to widen before the round separated sections of his head from the cybernetic implants in his scalp. Brandon is left with a few harsh thoughts running through his mind, only to regret that he had known Oscar for more then five years. Only for it to end in such a horrible manner, a grave thing that worried him about of the state of things.
* * * * *
If it weren't for the corp goons that were stationed downstairs, everything would have turned out find and Brandon wouldn't be in this position. They shot him, blew up his car and then for good measure put a few holes in his new suit that his armor managed thankfully managed to catch.
The car finally managed to crank up and the headlights beamed on just in time to catch the sight of the six men in the snowy air ahead of him and they proceeded to shred the vehicle. Painting it as if bullet riddle were a new color that was all the rage these days and a few rounds from his seat managed to make them scatter. Too bad for the car though, the fire from the engine block was a sign that it would be no use and Brandon bolted from the seat. He managed to cover a few blocks before they could collect on his trail and he ducked through the front door of a lit shop before sitting in a booth and setting the cases down and hunkering in the seat. It takes a few seconds for a trundle of boots to come careening by the window, thanks to the weather the window was snowed up enough to keep them from seeing him.
After they pass, Brandon sits up and leans into the table taking notice of the small stream of blood running down his grey shirt and tie. The bullet passing through his upper shoulder and out the other side, leaving a nice hole in both sides of his new jacket. A sigh escapes him, as if the state of his clothes were the worst part of this affair.
Brandon takes notice that he was not the only in attendance, seeing a few eyes glance back at him along with the owners from on the other side of the bar and he flashes a quick smile. "Seems business is good tonight.. can I get a stiff drink and maybe a clean rag as well?" He sits back in the seat of that booth, sliding the cases back between his legs as the bartender sets a bottle a glass on the table. A small white cloth follows as he looks on and Brandon speaks "Leave the bottle if you don't mind. He spins the bottle with his hand, the cybernetics clinking against the glass. "Ah, McDowell's.. how nice." The man steps away and returns to the bar, while Brandon pours a glass and drinks it quick with several eyes on him.