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SRM-02: Demolitions Run
Sometimes drek just needs to get blown up. And when it does, you're the folks that they call to do it. It's all in the job description, chummer.

Part One: Demolition Run [180KB]
Part Two: Player Handouts [276KB]
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SRM-02: Demolitions Run - "Boardroom Explosion"
Introductory fiction by Rich Osterhout

The shrapnel just missed my face as it filled the air above the boardroom table. Not the shrapnel from a firearm or grenade, but from a much more dangerous weapon - the shattered remains of a datapad, smashed against the marble tabletop by the 'old man'. I was one of the lucky ones. Seated at the opposite end of the table, I was spared the full brunt of Dr. Fredericks' fit of rage. Dr. Struthers, his assistant and chief operations officer, was not so lucky; Bob ended up receiving a few lacerations to the face and arms by the flying shards of plastic and glass. Nothing that couldn't be repaired easily enough by one of the dozen or so technicians in the company's clinic, but the emotional scars would be much more difficult to heal.

"This is the third contract we've lost in the past month!" screamed Dr. Fredericks. "Another 1.5 million nuyen lost in revenues!" The CEO of Paladin Medical Technologies glared across the half dozen gathered before him, demanding an answer for this latest failure among the corporation's contracts. "At the rate we're going, we'll be out of business within a year! Miss Nagahara, could you please explain to me just how we lost the Salish border patrol contract?"

Katey Nagahara was seated to my right, and I could almost feel the anxiety coming out of her pores. Her voice was strong, however, when she responded. "It appears that a new bid was entered shortly after our own—the new bidder was able to supply the necessary drugs in the desired amounts for almost ten percent less than us. My sources cannot ascertain the winner of the contract."

"Well, find out! First Seattle General, and now the Border Patrol! If it happens again, we'll have to start dropping shifts and laying off personnel—and guess where I'm going to start!" Fredericks had every reason to be upset. Paladin had lost some of their biggest contracts lately, all in the pharmaceutical supply division. Bob Struthers valiantly took some of the 'old man's' rage on himself. "Sir, I believe that this is not a failing of the Marketing department, but rather the result of a malicious attack against our data systems. It appears that we have finally backtracked the logs and discovered an unauthorized access of our current JSR database, and was able to retrieve our operating figures and charges on various customer contracts. Needless to say, I believe that this information was sold to one of our competitors and used against us. We have taken measures to repair the security leak in our networks and change our access codes."

"That's not enough," fumed Fredericks, "I want a total system rebuilt—get all the system administrators together and work through the night if you have to, but I want a new network security plan on my desk by tomorrow morning. Nagahara, I don't care how you find out, but you have the same deadline to bring me news of who our "competition" is and how they are undercutting our prices. That's all! Get back to work!"

At least none of us ended up on the chopping block that day...

* * *

The incessant buzzing of the intercom on my desk was like a knife through my skull after last night's lack of sleep. Only days after Katey had discovered that DocWagon was the culprit that had caused Paladin's recent decline in market share, her "sources" had also discovered the source of their success. DocWagon has recently erected an automated pharmaceutical factory in the rolling hills of Snohomish. They soon discovered how quickly they could manufacture their own drugs, patches, and other meds, and in quantities greater than their own needs. Thus, the old laws of Supply & Demand, along with a timely offer from an enterprising decker, allowed DocWagon to hit Paladin and some of the other firms in town to sell off their excess pharms and undercut the competition. The voice on the intercom was, of course, Dr. Fredericks. "Wallace, it seems we have a problem. I know you've been in the loop on this DocWagon thing, and I cannot express how displeased I am that they have such a facility here in the sprawl. I think it would really help out Paladin if that facility were to no longer exist. If only there was a way to make such dreams a reality, eh, Wallace?"

"Of course, sir. I understand completely. I hope you will be able to sleep well soon... " I replied.

There was no mistaking his tone of voice. Fredericks wanted the facility neutralized, and my job as Special Security Director was to see to it that such plans came to fruition—without the direct involvement of Paladin or any of her subsidiaries, of course.

It was time to make a call to someone that had a proven record of success—a real "saint" of a man. The cultured British voice was always pleasant to listen to over the anonymity of the telecom. "I say, ol' chap, it has been awhile. I assume you have something bothersome that needs a solution? Right... "



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