The main reason why he had his job was not that he could put a dozen bullets into a palm-sized target at 200 yards – there were chrome warriors out there on the street who could do it in half the time…and for one tenth the price. No, it was because he paid real close attention to detail.<br/><br/>The woman was a courier of some sort, returning from a pickup at the club. And the goons, well, they were clearly waiting for her but didn’t look like they were her bodyguard and chauffeur. The courier was packing under her tiny, tiny dress, but it didn’t look like she was aware of the trap she was walking into. She gave the expensive BMW a funny glance and the lights went on and the driver-side door popped open. Clearly, she was not a full-time net-denizen and still clung to little gestures when interfacing with the digital world. Discreet muscle perhaps, with speed augments to make up for her lack in bulk and strength. Her gait sure had the superhuman grace of a wired runway model.<br/><br/>And yet, a pair of high-power tasers could ruin her entire day. Jason himself was not a too dissimilar build from hers. Synaptic boosters and muscle toner with more than enough speed and precision to strike a deadly blow…but a bit short in bulk and armor to take the same amount of punishment that he could dish out. But unlike her, he had also invested heavily in sense-ware and could smell a simple muggery in a dark parking lot from a mile away. A little smile crossed his face and he closed his eyes and willed the window to slide open. Yep, he could<em>literally</em>smell them. The men both wore expensive cologne - and something that required a large amount of gun grease under their clothes.<br/><br/>Jason felt intrigued by the sweet-smelling woman – and the briefcase she carried. it was not necessarily something his new employer would be looking for, but certainly something of value that could be sold…or traded for a favor. On the other hand, this wasn’t his fight and he really shouldn’t get into any trouble before ‘his’ shadowrun was completed. He was all by himself, too, with no backup of<em>any</em>kind. And yet,<em>initiative</em>was the prime quality that was expected from a corporate intelligence man like himself, and an opportunity such as this was rare. Of course, he could just close his window again and drive by slowly like a random passerby to foil the ambush and give the girl time to get into her car and drive away. But in Jason Delaforte’s business, there were<em>no freebies</em>. If he was going to help her, then he damn well expected something in return. At least a major favor and some intel…or maybe he would just grab the suitcase for himself.<br/><br/>As the woman turned her back to get into the car, the men both faced her and lifted their tasers. Jason slowly reached under his<em>Actioneer</em>vest and retrieved his own, taking aim at the right goon. He wasn’t in a hurry: In the current situation, the fewer eyes laid on him, the better. And the pair of enforcers was about to give the girl some serious shuteye.<br/><br/>And if he timed his shot with theirs, chances were that the left goon would only realize that they were under attack when his buddy hit the pavement in spasms. With all three of them down, Jason would have time to get a better picture of the situation and decide on the most profitable course of action at leisure.<br/>