<i>Thum-thum-thum-thum</i>went the beat to the loud techno music in the club known as "<i>The Tech Pit</i>", an old meeting place that Byte hadn't been to in almost three years. The almost hearing damaging music was conducive to meeting new people discretely without having to be too concerned about eavesdroppers. The pulsating crowd at the center of the club surrounded by a ring of tables and booths along the wall made it easy to lose a tail, especially since the strobe coloured lights made everything seem different shades of the same colour as it cycled through reds, blues, purples and pinks. The perfect rendezvous for those who didn't want to be known rendezvousing, it was how Byte met her first group of friends. It was how Cleo preferred to meet new runners.<br/><br/>The place wasn't in a bad neighborhood either, while it wasn't the best part of Seattle it wasn't in the Barrens or even the slums. Being somewhere near downtown it had a decent name for both having great beats to meet a flame for the evening, good drinks and the promise of absolute discretion to anyone who knew the owner.<br/><br/>The fixer when she was first starting making connections was always meeting runners here, though after many years of success she only meets the new ones at The Tech Pit. Byte understood it at least, though she didn't particularly like it. Some folks she owed money to were frequent patrons of this particular avenue, others just knew that she could be found here if she was working. If word got out that she was working anyways, she did her best to stop that from happening.<br/><br/>Drumming her artificial fingers on the table a bit worriedly, some doubts of where she was began to cloud her mind. Granted it was always the same booth, always the same table and always the same spot that "happened" to be in the blind spot of the security cams. Nobody but her and anyone that worked for Cleo knew about it, anyone who ran their mouths about it or started to muddy the waters went missing and it became a rumor. Anyone could tell that it was the seat for a meeting place though if they were a runner, there was always a "reserved" projection facing outwards from the table's glass surface to anyone who might unwittingly take a seat where a job was going to be set up.<br/><br/>The elf raised her head and looked about, she was in the right spot for sure. She remembered perfectly the angle that she could see the bar from, how the lights strobed in the corner of her vision. Maybe it was because she was early, Byte was hoping that if she showed up early she might be able to repress the constant cravings. Doing BTLs was easier when you were alone but in public, even in a security cam blind spot in a place like the Tech Pit, it just wasn't very smart. She certainly couldn't do it on the job either or even en route to the job. If her fellow runners knew she was a junkie... well "accidents" tended to happen to people like that and she had no intention of being found in a ditch somewhere.<br/><br/>The elf had taken off her jacket to have a seat in the booth, large enough to seat ten people with an extra chair at the entrance to the booth. Anyone who had half a brain in their head knew that the extra chair would be for the fixer, in case anything went south they were always to be the first to flee the scene. Not only was it just courtesy but it was just smart, shadowrunners are dime a dozen. Fixers are harder to catch but more effective when you finally do because anyone they were working for will immediately be out of business unless they know other fixers.<br/><br/>Mentally commanding her wired reflexes to switch off so she didn't pull a gun on the first person that came from perhaps the other side of her, the blonde haired elf began to adjust her attire. Moving her hefty breasts around underneath her shirt so they were in perfect position, tantalizing but not showing too much, adjusting the lower hem of it and tugging her jeans up in a vain attempt to cover the thong red thong underwear that made itself visible from the crest of her pants as she leaned forward in her seat on to the table.<br/><br/>A prompt in her vision from her smart link brought her from her train of thought whilst adjusting herself, giving a light flashing in her vision and then a scrolling text telling her that her Ares Predator was due for a re-oiling. Mentally dismissing the prompt, noting the time in the lower left side of her vision before yet another prompt came up telling her that the time for the meeting had arrived. Drumming her fingers impatiently, Byte waited for the others to show up and sit down.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>