It'd taken two hours for three of the four runners to make it, legit, through the line to the club door. The bland elf in a well-cut suit leaned casually against the wall through which they all felt the pounding dance beats. To his side, the sniper in her daring gown--Hyp wasn't about to ask where she was keeping her gun--paced in place.
Rigger Warning
What's the holdup? their decker shot at them from her van a couple blocks down. The sniper shook her head.
This cesso at the door, she said back. This place is not worth this; the job better be. Can you hack his brainpan? A pause was the decker either laughing or checking.
La negativa.
Hyp stood nose-to-chin with the bouncer. She was taller, but he was just a bit broader. She bristled with piercings, even in her tusks, and she wore a ratty leather jacket; the bouncer had stopped his own thuggish look at a white tank.
"Not on the list, not getting in," he said again.
"You don't got no list," Hyp said. The bouncer waved his thick hands.
"Nah," he agreed. "I got it in my head. I don't know you, you don't get in." Hyp conferred with her companions via the tacnet.
The bouncer was too slow for Hyp, and he got a clean blow to the nose. She smeared blood across his tank when he lunged for her. Their struggle elicited no response from the other runners, but it did win some jeering from wannabe patrons behind them all. Despite her ambush, he had the upper hand. It was only a few moments before he pinned her to the wall.
"You and your friends--" he spat nasally, "Are--wait." The man paused to look at the bystanding runners. His distraction let Hyp get a hand free; she reached into her coat, and then slammed something into his chest. The metal puck unfolded into a net that slammed the troll man's arms and legs against his body. He went down like a felled tree.
"Pretty good," Hyp said. She wiped his blood off of her face with her sleeve. The troll kneeled over her captive. She lowered her head to his ear while she popped the net free with deft fingers. Behind her, the other runners shared a glance when the bouncer broke into a wide smile. He said nothing, and did not attempt to rise, when she straightened up and slipped the puck back into her coat. Hyp jerked her head at the door.
The bloody troll murmured a string of numbers to himself while he watched the runners enter the club. A biohazard symbol in red took up most of the space on Hyp's back. Above it, rhinestones on the jacket spelled out a word:
Rigger Warning
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