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     "Well you know me Shinji: anything for some quick cash.  I have my eye on some new chrome."  Roland stood up and stretched. 

     "I see..."  Roland turned his gaze to Machiavelli.  "So... doing protection on an actual person isn't usually my gig but if you need a wheelman I can cover that.  Hopefully after this we can call it even on that SIN I needed."  He finished off his drink before turning his head back to the decker.  "So I'm guessing since we are all here in person you have something to say yourself.  Usually you don't leave your cave until it's business time and as fun as it is to play 20 questions we seem to be in need of some info."

     "My story?  Not much to tell.  I found myself in a bit of debt to Shinji's clan and had to work my way out of their black book and into their good graces.  Wasn't too bad, I started out smuggling and the yakuza always seem to need people that don't look like a yakuza to move all their stuff without being noticed.  Most everything else I have learned has come from that: learned to shoot people that try to jack your cargo, learned to sneak by checkpoints.  You know, all the usual things.  These days I don't really owe them anything anymore but I tend to work for them anyways.  I never tried to fight them on my debt and they never really treated me too bad considering the circumstances so these days I usually only run independent stuff when I need to make rent and the clan doesn't have anything for me."  Roland let his hand reel back into its socket and swilled his whiskey around in its glass.  "As for your friend...  I have never had much of a knack for the mojo so I don't really know much about the blood magic stuff.  I hear all the rumors but have never seen any of it myself.  What did your friend do for Aztecnology?"

"Well personal business is still business so don't feel too bad about it."  Roland took up the offered hand shake with his matte black cyber arm.  "Besides, as you can see, my hand doesn't mind wandering away on loan."  With this he let his hand disconnect from its firing system mid-handshake before sitting back down and letting the cable play out as the hand remained in the grip of the elf.  "So what can I do foryou? I owe Machiavelli a bit of a favor and if there is one thing i have learned it's that quickly paying one's debts is a good way to go."

     Roland craned his neck to look from his couch to find his gun lying on the end table.  "Clothes...."  He looked down at his cargo pants and T-shirt.  "Eh.... fuck it."  He grabbed his favorite red synthleather jacket and slung his concealable holster around his shoulders so his gun rested snugly at the small of his back.  He pulled his arms through his jacket sleeves as he headed out into his garage to hurdle over the door of his jeep and into the driver's seat.  "Whoops, ammo..."  Roland patted his pockets for the spare magazine that wasn't there.  He flipped open the middle console storage compartment to see the contents of 3 spare loaded magazines as well as some spare credsticks.  ([blockquote]Rolled 4d6 : 2, 1, 3, 4, total 10[/blockquote] x100 nuyen from middle lifestyle starting cash) "Jackpot!"  He smiled at his fortune of not having to go find some place to draw some nuyen from his account into hard credsticks.  He reved up the engine as the garage door opened and then got on his way to visit Shinji's club.

     Roland pulled up to Shinji's club and parked down the street.  Whoop whoop.  The car's security system sounded its activation.  he walked past the small line of corp citizens waiting to get inside. "Hey Shiro, how's the evening going?  Any of the wageslaves give you trouble?"  The bouncer cracks a small grin.  "Just one but his compensation for the incident has been arranged already."  "Sounds fun.  Anyways I need to meet someone here and wanted to get a drink with Shinji before they get here."  Shiro nodded and pulled aside the velvet rope to let Roland in.  As he entered the hostess club he heard the whining of the next group in line cut short by a growled retort from Shinji.  He walked across the busy room careful not to run into any of the waitresses quickly darting from the bar and kitchen to the tables.  He nodded to the made men when they turned their watchful gaze from the customers to him as he moved for the stairs marked with a VIP sign and guarded by a yakuza sitting on a bar stool.  The yakuza looked him over as he approached.  "What are you packing?"  He asked.  "Nothing out of the ordinary.  Just the usual kept somewhere out of sight.  You know if anyone has come in to meet me?"