It's half past two in the morning when the message comes in-a beeping pager, a flash on a comm or a stale folded piece of paper taped under the left side of that bench you check every Thursday. The missive contains simple instructions:<em>Mr. J, Minty's, 3:30. Booth by the door.</em>. Such recommendations are not uncommon- fixers who can't effectively screen contracts don't stay in business-or breathing, for that matter-for long. A little more information might have been nice, but the people who are in a position to both afford your services and actually<em>require</em>them are not in the habit of giving away any unnecessary information. In fact, in most cases many clients will think twice before giving you required information.<br/><br/>In any event, by 3:27 in the morning several runners have gathered at<em>Minty's</em>, a dive of a local diner that caters to-or perhaps preys on, given their prices-the cops and manual laborers who need to be up before anything else is open, the thugs who desire the ambiance and anonymity, and the toughs who plain can't afford better. The place is fairly packed this morning, but true to the note a small booth has been left empty. The flaking paint dusted over the surface of the off-green table and the odd spring jutting through the cheap vinyl upholstered benches mark it as one of the house's less desirable seats, but at least it's close to the door and affords a good view of the street through the few windows that haven't been boarded over or covered in graffiti.<br/><br/>The booth itself is a bit too cramped for six people to sit  comfortably, so the runners are forced to pass their time getting to know each other a bit more than they may have wished, rusted springs and flattened padding doing their best to remind any tender body parts or expensive clothes of their presence.<br/><br/>At 3:30, nothing happens. At 3:31, however, a uniformed and presumably off-duty policewoman pushes herself neatly from a barstool at the counter and spins to face the booth, regarding the occupants impassively through thick sunglasses before pulling a chair up and gingerly seating herself at the edge of the table. "I'm Mr. Johnson," she rasps, her voice laced with a highly unpleasant croaking sound that threatens to drone over each syllable. I need a team. It may be you, or it may not. In any case, you may consider this your audition." She takes a moment to fish a thin strip of paper from her jacket pocket and places it unceremoniously on the table, flatly informing the group "You're starting with something I can afford to have you screw up." Gesturing to the paper, she continues "You will be executing a tailchaser for me this morning. It is a low-security warehouse operated by one of the delightful gangs that spice up this city. You will have three objectives. Your primary objective will be to infiltrate this warehouse and achieve the total, uncompromising destruction of its contents. If you can handle it, your secondary objective will be to search their records on-site and determine who sold them their inventory. Finally," she continues, idly fidgeting with her glasses, "At some time between 5:00 and 5:30, you must attract as much attention to the facility as you can. We would prefer it if you could draw as many of the gang's security personnel to that site as possible. Of course, if they catch you they will be happy to execute each and every one of you, so I would suggest that you make yourselves scarce after staging the distraction."<br/><br/>She pauses for a moment and helps herself to a long, almost hostile glance around the table before she continues "I am prepared to offer 1,000 nuyen to every runner upon the completion of this operation. If you are killed in the course of your activities, neither you nor your team will receive your share. If you are apprehended, or if you fail to stage a distraction, I will be displeased. If you succeed, I have real work I'll need you to get done." She leans back in her chair and crosses both arms over her chest, blandly droning "I will now take any questions you have."