<strong>The Meeting</strong><br/><br/>Mr. Stone seemed to consider the pair of guards just random grunts, but did finally give a pair of names as he continued to caress the elf.  They were both Koreans, Yeong-Hwan Lee (영환李) and Jae Gim (재金), who worked for a small transport security company in Busan.  A rotating cast of, as Mr. Stone put it, "their ilk" delivered packages to Seattle every month or two.<br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">RSGAlex</div><div class="spoiler_body">It wasn't hard to find information on the pair.  Yeong-hwan was 29, married, and had a kid.  Jae was 25 and unmarried.  A few messages they'd shared online seemed to indicate that neither had expected to be doing a delivery, but had been suddenly assigned on short notice.  Otherwise they seemed like unremarkable low-end Corpo security.</div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Hexed</div><div class="spoiler_body">The gang was new and small.  It had appeared seemingly fully formed within the last few months with a surprising amount of tech and magic.  The biggest rumour going around the underworld about them was that they had a benefactor, or controller, of some sort and are mostly using the gang angle as cover.</div></div><br/><br/><hr/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">OOC</div><div class="spoiler_body">I am debating whether to run the IC in two threads or one, for now it is all here even though split up, if it gets too confusing and/or cluttered I can change that though.<br/><br/>Of I misunderstood the plan please let me know and I will edit.</div></div><br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Afternoon, The Guzzling Gal, Auburn</strong><br/><br/>Mr. Stone had been more than happy to lend the team a van and a driver, as well as sending out a few contacts to advertise the show.  The Guzzling Gal was a rough place not far from Puyallup.  It sat in the center of what looked to have once been an open field, but now was filled with broken down cars and trash.  The parking lot was dirt, well, due to a light rain it was closer to mud, and the puddles that were forming in the pot holes had a thin layer of volcanic ash swirling about on their surface.<br/><br/>There were a few, non-junked, vehicles in the parking lot but from the look business was only starting to trickle in.  A particularly busty and toothy ork came out to meet the van as they parked.  The woman's hair was pulled back in a severe black braid, her tusks too large to ever properly fit in her mouth even when open.  She wore jeans and an open suit-jacket over a t-shirt that both failed to conceal that she was remarkably well-muscled.<br/><br/>"I'm the manager.  Ronka."  She said by way of introduction.  "Which one of you is the singer?"  The question, given that her eyes had immediately settled on Stella, seemed more a formality than anything else.<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>Afternoon, Hyton Inn, Renton</strong><br/><br/>The Hyton Inn was about as boring as any chain hotel ever was.  It was a long rectangular structure in an area with several other nearly identical, save for the branding on the front, long rectangular structures.  There were a few restaurants and other businesses to cater to the hotel crowd, but the place had the air of somewhere that was never really busy.<br/><br/>Mr. Stone had booked a room with a commanding view of the parking lot.  When the SUV arrived they'd know it, but so far there were only a few vehicles in the parking lot and it was a good bet most, if not all, of them were owned by the staff.  A light rain had begun to fall outside but did little to hurt visibility at any range that mattered.<br/><br/>On the way in the pair had spotted a single front desk agent, a human woman who couldn't be much out of her teenage years, and had heard what sounded like another employee working in a room behind the main desk.  A male human security guard had been using the awning in front of the lobby as shelter from the rain as he smoked.  The badge on his shoulder indicated that he worked for "Security Force International Incorporated," any sort of search revealed that they were a discount, minimally trained, security company.  It didn't look like he had any sort of body armour, and his only equipment was a comlink at his waist connected by wire, probably mainly for the look, to an earpiece and throat-mic, a small canister of what was probably some variety of pepperspray, and a set of flimsy looking handcuffs.  He was scrawny and probably somewhere in his thirties.