Sandwich Run: Chapter 6: The Delivery
From SSDC, Inc.
If the party manages to defeat the AMC mercenaries, nothing more stands in the way of their triumphant return. Provided they have a pastrami and liverwurst sandwich with lettuce, olives, and mustard, on rye bread (pickle included) from the OK Cafe on Fisk's desk by noon, the terms of the contract are fulfilled.
"As you stagger into the BioCyberdyne building, weary beyond belief, a fellow merc comes running over to you. "There you are! Director Fisk sent word that you were to go to see him as soon as you got back!" He looks awed by such a summons. You're too tired to care much.
You pile into the elevator and punch the button for the Executive Suite. As you file out into Fisk's outer office, you're dimly aware that the secretary is nowhere to be seen. As you stand and wonder what to do, the door swings open, and you hear the voice of Hamilton Fisk.
"Welcome back! Let me apologize to you gentlemen and ladies. I fear that your trip was somewhat less pleasant than it could have been. But that can wait." Fisk leans forward eagerly. "Do you have my sandwich?"
Fisk will inspect the characters' offering intently. Provided all the ingredients are there, he will smile smugly and punch a button. An unfamiliar man in a well-tailored suit will appear on the large viewscreen.
"Well, Dansker," Fisk chortles, "It looks like I win, this time. Would you like me to hold up the sandwich for your inspection?" The man on the screen makes a sour face. "I'll pass, thanks. Very well, Fisk: the rights to the Gurahl trading contract go to you. Next time, though..."
Fisk punches a button, and the man called Dansker is cut off in mid-sentence. He turns back to you with a smile. "As I said earlier, my friends, I placed the highest priority on this mission. And I am indeed grateful. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the amount in your pay envelopes this month...and that you can look forward to more missions in the very near future. After all, talents such as yours are wasted on such trivial tasks as going out for a sandwich." He glances down at the sandwich with a look of distaste. "Speaking of which..." He picks it up and drops it in the wastepaper basket to the side of his desk. It lands with an audible "THUD." "Could you stop by the cafeteria and ask them to send me up a chef's salad?"
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