The last run brought down some heat for everyone involved (if you could just remember what that run was). You figure that in a week or so, the offended party will move on to the next big thing and you’ll be back in biz proper. Until then, you’ve settled into your squat for a break from the world. With corn popped, drink mixed, remote fully charged, and nothing better to do, you settle in for a nighttime trid marathon of classics and remakes in your comfy chair.
Your eyes snap open when you hear your commlink chirp, and you realize you must have drifted to sleep sometime during the night. Dawn breaks, and daylight peeks through the window. The trid marathon is still running, so you silence it and answer the call.
The image of the dwarf that appears is starting to go bald and hiding it poorly by wearing a ponytail. A chrome datajack is apparent in his temple, and a large diamond stud earring rests in his ear. He’s obviously holding his commlink in one hand and an obnoxious lit cigar in the other.
“Omae Allan! Didn’t wake you up, did I? It’s me—Sid Gambetti! Word is that you are laying low in Vegas, which is why I’d like to discuss a little out-of-town biz. Meet me at the Hawthorne Grill for some breakfast in an hour if you’re game. Ciao babe!”
With that, the image of the sleazy dwarf fixer disappears from your feed.
For some, reason you have this image if two donkey headed humanoid spirits guarding a disk that you had just grabbed, but you can’t seem to place the memory. Maybe it was just a scene from a bad 80s trid. Time to call the crew, Sid’s got you a job.