Edge was already at the Club Raven by 2AM, it wasn't a place that he was a regular, but he knew it well enough that he found his way fairly easily and quickly. It had taken him perhaps 20 minutes of jumping across rooftops to reach the place, having been forced to take a short detour across a series of warehouses, due to have being chased across a construction site by a group particularly angry (and strangely dexterous) dwarves, who eventually gave up as Edge managed to escape the site's perimeter, just before a hail of wrenches hit the wire fence behind him.
As he entered the club, he noticed that he hadn't been frisked by the doorman, although he remembered that the Raven had a reputation for being a Runners den, and it made sense that the club did not want to discourage it's regulars, or deter any potential new customers looking for a unscrupulous place to meet or discuss a shady job. Still, Edge wondered whether letting lots dangerous people who could perhaps be concealing an entire arsenal of weapons, all be concentrated in a single place, without any real security, and adding the unpredictability of drugs and alcohol, was particularly foolish.
But then he remembered what kinds of people owned the place. Never mind then.
He looked around the dark and musty room. It was surprisingly sparse, or at least less packed than he last remembered from being here a couple of years ago. Edge had no idea who he was looking for; he was only told to be here for 2 AM, which, granted, he was 5 minutes late for. Fashionably late at worst. He was not told if he was to wait for a particular person, hell, he didn't even know what the Johnson who hired him looked like, he had only heard about this job from Merchant. He was beginning to think that this was a bad idea. This club stank of magic. He knew the smell well from contact with some pretty shady sorcerers back in the day.
Edge looked around to try and see what kind of characters were around him. He saw a rather varied group of individuals assembling on a table in the corner. There were all sorts gathered at the table; from what he could see there were at least a couple of mages, an ex-fed or possible Lonestar, a strange tall figure in an environmental suit, and a beautiful teenage girl with golden eyes. The other figures all seemed to be in the shadows, not that he saw them, he was awestruck by the innocent beauty of the girl.
This isn't the kind of place for a girl like that...
Snapping out of his initial bewitchment, Edge made his way to the bar and ordered an aged single-malt whiskey. The tingling feeling as it made it's way down his throat cleared his head, as well as filled him with a feeling of class and refinement that was almost alien to him. He told himself that he should get used to it. He would take the money from this job, and then he'd use it to rise to the top of this cesspit.
That's what he told himself anyway.
Growing increasingly bored with sitting at the bar chewing away on his gum, hoping for what he assumed would be his client approach him, Edge decided to take a stab in the dark, and made his way over to the table in the corner which was populated by a ragtag bunch of people. It became obvious that they were all runners here for the same job, as he had overheard them all mentioning a certain Mr Johnson.
Swallowing his last drop of liquid courage, he introduced himself to the group.
"Evening people. I'm assuming you're all here for the same job that I am? 20K, 2 AM? I couldn't help but overhear on your conversation y'see..."
His eye caught the young girl's again, this time he quickly composed himself before continuing to talk.
*cough*
"Anyway, the name's Edge. I hope we can all get along" he said with the usual upbeat tone in his voice and the obnoxious grin on his face.
He extended a hand from his jacket pocket, to anyone who dared to shake it. Accompanied by a large "POP" as his gum bubble exploded.
