A slick, well built man walks through the doors of The Crash. At one point or another, though not all at once, every eye in the place turns to look him over. He stands out in a crowd, a well-dressed, confident fellow; but when they turn back to their drinks, they've all but forgotten him. He scans the bar with the eye of someone skilled at sizing people up, and he does so in an instant. He notes the locations of each of his intended subjects, then moves towards the private room and sits down at your table. A barmaid places a drink in front of him, gives a little wink, then saunters off.
The Fixer, as he's known to you, has never steered you wrong, and always found the best jobs. Whether they were easy money for minor work, or tough jobs and crazy long pay, he had a knack for getting work when there was none. Prestige Unlimited, word has it, is his favorite outfit. They get first crack at the cream.
His deep voice rolls out, smooth as silk, but still purely masculine; booming, but not overpowering; and a hint of an upper class accent, though anything but demeaning.
"Ladies and gents." He gives you a cordial nod, before getting right to business.
"The gets are slim right now, but I've a few things I've lined up. First choice falls to you, friends." He glances at the closed doors of the private room, then pops his case. A holographic image jumps up for all to see.
"First up. There's an old saying. 'Gambling is the devil's way to poverty.' Maybe, but gambling on the Market's money...well, I'd rather deal with the devil. This is William Tack. He's got some sway, but he's losing it up here." He twirls two fingers by his temple.
"He used to be a noise, but now he's a squeaky wheel. He owes. Big. He's been trying to hit it big on anything you can think of. Murderthon, Battledome, dog runs, cards. More he owes, bigger he bets, deeper he goes. Well, his cred's run out. The vig alone is enough to put him and half the people in this town in a coffin on principle." He sips at his drink, then continues.
"Chicago wants paid in full. They prefer the cred, but if he don't got, they'll take the head. Network wants settled in 2 weeks. Come back with cred, Prestige gets 5%. I get my 3% of that, as always." A genial smile breaks across his face.
"If it's the head, it's a mil, straight out." He taps at the pad on his briefcase, and the holo shifts to Tack's vital statistics. His home base is right here in MercTown, with a second spot in Kingsdale. He's expected back in MercTown in a day or two. The Fixer lifts a small holo-pad out of the case and passes it to Crotalo.
"Details are there. Figure if you want it and who you need, let me know. Want to pass, I've got more." A quick glance at the holo-pad shows the damage: William Tack is in for 50 million.
Another sip of scotch, and The Fixer continues.
"Next option is a glorified smash 'n grab. Dutcher's got a little extracurricular down in Whykin. Even has a buyer set. Original, pre-Rifts music catalog, something called 'Eddie's Head.' Signed by the creators. Only one known in existence, mint condition. Present owner is to be relieved of her prize, and the thing brought back here."
The holo-projector displays a statue of a ghoul's head, which when opened, contains several compact laser discs labeled "Iron Maiden."
"Easy job by comparison. Woman who owns it is some kind of spell slinger, but nothing any one of you couldn't handle. She don't need dead, just relieved of what she found. Intel says medium security. Mix of electronic and magic. Finder's fee is 500k. I get 3%. Don't break it. You can't afford it." An image of the current owner flashes by.
He taps at the pad on the case, and another holographic image pops up.
"Last one. This one's mostly muscle, but don't look like it. Need a small crew to help escort a delivery from the City of Brass to Castle Refuge." He glances at Gill.
"Goes to your old boss." The image is a small wooden box.
"Got no word on what's in it, but it's not as simple as hopping a line and delivering. Box won't port. You get to drive it." He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, takes another sample, then sets the empty glass on the table.
"Should be an easy drive. Put your best faces on, yeah? Security's damn tight in that castle. Market's trying to get a man in, but Crotalo's connection hasn't delivered...has he? Did Skodati scat with the startup cred, or is he on it?" He shifts his glance to the vernulian, awaits an answer, then continues.
"Anyway, our guy might be able to get you past the gate, but the place is Dwarf-speak to us. No layout, no idea how to find the buyer once you're in. Fair bet you have some inside goods, hey?" He nods towards Gill.
"Pay on that is light, but there's bonus if you find a hook or a solid plant to leave there. 20k a day per body, base. Hazard pay, confirmed with vid of any confrontation, boost of 10 each per day. Drive's 5, maybe 7 days max, wheels supplied. Make the drop, 100k flat bonus. Find a way to leave someone behind to work an angle, another 100k." He grins.
"Get pinched, don't bother slinking back to me, yeah? I never knew ya." He lets out a short laugh.
He leans forward and closes the case.
"There you have it. Same drill as every time. Got 24 hours to tell me what you want and what to pass. If these don't sweeten your tea, let me know. I've got more in the hop." He pauses for questions, if any.