Life is tough.  Falcon had been doing OK, but the last few months
had been pretty ugly -- all the usual sources of income had dried up,
and after a few ugly run-ins with the New Turks he'd spent most of
his hard-earned Nuyen refreshing his stocks of magical gear.

Then the apartment he'd been squatting in was targeted for involuntary
urban renewal.  He got his gear out before the charges went off, but
he was on the streets low on cash and with no hot job prospects in
the near future.

He'd been spending the last few days sleeping in coffins and 
looking for a new flop, but the credstick was down to 5K and pickens
were looking slim.

He was walking down the street near the docks, when something
made him look up.  Something was out of place on the street,
now that he was looking for it, he made two ... no three men
looking out of place on the street and all converging on his location.

Two of the men looked Asian, more narrowly than that Falcon couldn't tell, 
the other was pure Seattle.  They all wore loose coats which made
Falcon nervous.  A quick scan showed they had timed it well.  Falcon
was in the middle of a block with a car parked on one side of him
and a warehouse on the other.  One man was coming from the front and back,
and the third was closing in from across the street.

Falcon felt where his pistol rested against his hip, under his jacket.
Still there. He looked to see if he had a route away from the three or if
he was caught completely.

It didn't look good.  The only ways out were through the men closing in.
On the plus side, if they just wanted to take him out, they would have
started shooting by now.

Sighing, Falcon stopped and found a convenient wall to lean against. He
tried not to act too nervous, but he never let his hands stray too far from
his pistol.

The men closed in.  Once they had him boxed in, one of the Asian men
snapped, "We can do this nice and easy or we can do this hard.  Get
in the car."  One of the other men stepped up and opened the door.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Falcon said as he headed toward the car.

Falcon was pressed into the back seat between two of the men, who gave
him a quick patdown and yanked his pistol out.  They handed it over the
seat to the third man who got in on the passenger side.  A fourth
man was already in the driver's seat.  The car pulled smoothly out
and drove away.

                *                       *               *

After a short drive, the car stopped in front of a warehouse on the docks.
"Last stop," grinned one of the thugs.  "Everyone out."  The thugs
hustled Falcon out of the car and into the warehouse.  The center of
the warehouse was mostly empty, only a few chairs and a table
occupied it.  Seated behind the table was an Asian man, moderately
handsome, young but with an air of authority.  Standing next to him
was another Seattle type, and Falcon's practiced eye read him as a
Mage.  Another thug lounged on a few packing cases a short distance
away.


Falcon's escort frog-marched him up to a chair in front of the
table and pushed him down.  The seated man spoke, "Welcome Mr. Case.
I hope to make this short and simple.  You have taken somethings from
us, and we want them back."

"Mr. Case?" Falcon asked.

"Come on Case, don't try to jerk us around," said the man.  "We know
all about you.  So just tell us where the stuff is and you might survive
this."

"What is it that I'm supposed to have taken?" Falcon asked, suddenly
wishing he slept in.

"As if you didn't know, Case.  The datachip.  The stamps. The sword,"
said the man.  "They aren't on you. We've searched your coffin,
#3712 at the Yellow Lotus and they aren't there. So where are they?"

Falcon had dealt with men like this before, albeit in a limit fashion. He
began wondering about how much the truth would help.

"Well, I'd say they'd probably be in a safe place in case something like
this were to happen." Falcon tilted his head, looking from the mage back to
the man he was speaking with. "Out of curiosity, how did you determine that
I was your man?"

"We know our business.  We figured out who your worked for, from that we
were able to pick up that it was you. Once we knew it was you and had the
description, it was easy to pick you up at the coffins.  We know you have a
meeting lined up with Blademan at a warehouse on dock 39 tomorrow at 1400
hours.   We want that stuff back and we want it now, so you can just
wave THAT meeting goodbye."

"I obviously don't have it," Falcon stated truthfully. "I can't even say
I'd be able to get it before the meeting. But my life is more valuable to
me than a stick of Nuyen, so I think we can work something out."


"Not good enough.  Tell us where it is, we'll go get it, and you'll
wait here while we do it."

"I can't. I don't know where the items are," Falcon answered truthfully.
"Ask your wage mage there if you don't believe me. Someone else has them.
They are in the hands of the man who was staying next to me at the Lotus."

"You've already unloaded them," the man stood in a rage.  "Too bad for
you.  Lanky, Ron, take Mr. Case for a swim."

The two thugs nearest Falcon grabbed him and stood him up, pinning his
arms.  "You bet, Sere Chen," said one.

They marched Falcon out of the warehouse and down onto the Pier. 
The trio was about thirty feet from the end of the pier, when an
explosion erupted from the next pier over, sending gouts of flame into
the air.  The thugs dove left and right, pulling guns and covering
the area of the explosion.

Knowing a diversion when he saw one, Falcon bolted from their grasp and dove
for cover elsewhere.

Ashore and feeling relatively safe, he took stock.  His gun was missing,
but the rest of his kit was intact.  Thankfully some of his stuff was
still in storage in a locker at the monorail station.

He had no idea who those gentlemen were or what they were after. However, he
know that his life was still in danger. He would have to get to the bottom
of this situation. And he was going to need help. As much as it pained him
to admit it to himself, there was really only one person to turn to at this
moment: Clark Brennan.

Falcon got clear of the dock area before pausing to make a call. "Hi, Sam.
Not been a good day. Let me talk to Brennan, please." There was a short
pause while Sam went to drag Brennan out of bed. 

"Brennan. Go."

"Brennan, this if Falcon."

"So, have you given my idea anymore thought?"

Falcon paused, took a breath then responded. "Yes. I have. And it's not your
idea. It's Sparkie's."

"Whatever. Are you in or not."

"Look," Falcon started. "That's not important right now. God, I can't
believe I'm saying this. I need your help."

"Ah. Ah. So it comes down to this. Look, come by the crib. We'll chat."

"No time. Meet me at the Purple Haze in an hour. Got that?"

"Yeah, sure." Brennan answered nonchalantly. "Anything else Clark Brennan,
man-servant can do for you?"

Falcon sighed. He hated this prima donna act. "Yes. Put Sam back on." Once
she was back on the phone. "Sam. It's important that Brennan meets me at the
Purple Haze in an hour. Can you get him there? Cool. Yeah, Sparkie can come.
I hate to say it, but I might need his help too."

Sam and Brennan weren't late enough to make Falcon too jumpy.  Sam
forestalled his questions as they slid into a booth, "Sparkie was
tied up.  He told me to take notes."  She waved at Duke who
smiled back.  A few minutes later a trio of "Stairway to Heavens"
arrived at the table. Sam took a sip of hers, "Rum, sure.  And
tequila, I think.  God only knows what else."

Brennan took a drink from his and made an awful face. He shook violently,
feeling the alcohol burn its way down his throat. He coughed involuntarily
as the last of the first sip fought its way down his throat. Satisfied with
the impact, he repeated the process. Falcon gulped. 

It took only a few minutes to tell the whole story. Brennan was smirking. 

"Will you help me find out what's going on?" Falcon asked, finally. 

Brennan's smile deepened. "Maybe. I have but one condition." He pointed
toward the jack mounted at the base of his skull.

"You're kidding, right?" Falcon asked. "Some unknown Yakuza wannabes are
threatening my life and you want to Sim it? I can't believe this."

"Hey, the kids eat this stuff up. Think about the marketing."

Falcon's displeasure was plain on his face. "You know, if I had anywhere
else to turn. Anywhere..." He made a fist, started to slam it onto the table
then stopped. He relaxed, knowing that anger would only compound the
situation. "You win... Fine. You win."

"Great. So, what do we do now? Just sit back and wait for the meeting?"

"Nope. Too dangerous. They will be looking for me. We need to get some data
on these clowns and fast. We need a little British Steel."

"We're going to listen to old Judas Priest albums?"

"Just come with me." Falcon said. "You drivin', Sam?"

"No car, man.  We're only a few blocks away and you know it.  It's a hassle
getting it out of parking."

Falcon sighed, but led the way on foot.

Billy Edge and British Steel could usually be found near the Haze,
it was their favorite club.  The trio hadn't walked far before
Falcon spotted two members spraying the club logo, a double-edged
razorblade, onto a parked van.  One member had the same logo tatooed
across his face and his head was shaved.  The other was younger and
wore a retro styled motorcycle jacket with the logo sewn onto the
back as a patch.

Falcon gave the 'devil horns' hand sign to get their attention, followed by
another sign to let them know he was on friendly business.

"Rock on, metal heads. You know where I can find Edge?"

"Metal heads?" Brennan commented under his breath.

"Just watch your manners," Falcon warned. "And for a change, let me do the
talking."

Brennan raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, this is your show. I'm
only watching. Don't sweat it. Oh, and do you think you can get me a White
Lion retro-disc while we're here."

Falcon swatted Brennan, shooting him a dirty look in the process.

"Who's looking for him?" asked the older rocker.

"Falcon." 

"Yeah, I've heard of you.  He's around somewhere."

The younger kid chimed in, "Over at the Noodleshop, next block over I think.
Or he was a little while ago."


Sure enough, Billy Edge, Headbanger extraordiare, was slurping up noodles
with a couple of metal-babes when the trio arrived at the shop.

Falcon and Edge exchanged what passed for pleasantries. The shaman twice had
to quiet Brennan with a look. He introduced first Sam then Brennan to the
gang leader. All the basics out of the way, Falcon asked the first of his
leading questions.

"How good are you at Match the Name and Crime Family?"

"Sere Chen?" Falcon asked. "Any idea which family he's connected to?"

"Never heard of him.  He can't be a major player with a major
family.  Maybe its a fake name or he's small fry.  Or with a
small gang, or a seoulpa ring,"  Edge said.

Falcon said, "That's slightly reassuring. At least the guy that's trying to
kill me isn't connected big. I've got one more to ask and I'll leave you to
your noodles. You heard of a heist lately. Some guy named Case snatched a
sword, some stamps and a datachip. I know it's a small job, but these guys
are tearing up the streets looking for the gear."

"Yeah, I've heard something about that.  Watch your back, something
about it just smells wrong."

"Yeah, like they think I'm Case." Falcon shook his head. "Thanks, man. I owe
you one. If you hear anything about it, let me know."

Brennan looked at Falcon as if he had a third eye and shrugged. Falcon shook
hands with Edge and led the way out of the shop.

"That's it? That's all you are going to ask?" Brennan was confused.

"For right now," Falcon answered. When he saw Brennan did not comprehend, he
continued. "How have you survived this long on the streets? That wasn't an
interrogation. And if it had sounded like one, then Edge would have been
using me as a razor strop."

"I thought he was your buddy."

"Doesn't quite work like that," Falcon said. "I've patched him and his
buddies up many times after scraps. They know they can trust me to keep my
mouth shut and help them when things get bad. But... I don't run with them
and don't wear their colors. I'm not family. So..."

"You don't push your luck." Brennan said, finally understanding. "Still, you
didn't get much back there."

"I got more than it seems. Chen is a small time player. He's lost some
personal stuff. They are making enough noise that Edge has heard of it, but
not enough that he felt it necessary to give details. Case isn't a big time
player, otherwise Edge would have known him. All said, not a bad bit of data
for a long shot try."

"So, now what?"

"I'm out of ideas, except to wait until the meeting tomorrow and she what
happens. Anyone else wanna grab a drink?"

Falcon headed back to the Purple Haze. By this point, the crowd would be
just enough to cover a conversation with a certain bartender.

The Haze was starting to jump.  The house band, Electric Ladyland, had just 
started their set and was grinding through the Motorhead classic "Bomber."
That provided more than enough cover noise for the friends to get
close to the bar.

Falcon waved over his favorite bartender. After ordering a round - including
one for the bartender, of course - Falcon asked his first question.

"Anybody been around lately talking about boosting a stamp collection and a
sword?"

"Not in here, that I know of," said Duke.

Falcon scowled. Brennan swatted him on the shoulder. "Ask about the Chen
guy."

"I was getting around to it," Falcon said. "Know anything about a Sere Chen?
Ring any bells when paired with Case or Blademan? Guy might be Yak."

"Sorry, man, not ringing any bells.  Another round?"

"Why not. Some Yak wannabe wants me dead for stealing something I didn't
steal. I think another round is in order."

Brennan leaned in. "What now?"

"What can I do but wait until tomorrow for this meeting." 

"Cool. In that case, I'm going to go see if that lovely there wants a
demonstration of my Magic Wand." With that, Brennan drifted toward the end
of the bar. 

"Maybe I'm going about this the wrong way," Falcon thought aloud. He looked
at Sam. "Think these guys could be suits?"

"Which guys?" said Sam looking quizzically at her drink.  "You think it's
a corporate setup somehow?"

"Well," Falcon started. "They seemed put out by losing the sword and stamps
more than the datachip. That's what originally made me think of a Yakuza
connection. Still it would make just as much sense for these guys to be
corps."

Meanwhile, Brennan was using little magic tricks and sleight of hand to
impress a couple of young ladies. 

"I guess.  It seems a little, I don't know, low rent for a corp operation,"
said Sam.

"I am grasping here," Falcon said. "I guess there is nothing to do until
this meeting tomorrow."