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Ilya's Bar Natalya glances at the bounty board. Nothing familiar on there yet. There are two recent jobs. One posting says there's a coven of vampires plaguing the low-income housing in the east of town. The labourer's union is fed up with its members being attacked and is offering $10,000 per pair of fangs brought in. There's also a huge $100,000 bounty on someone called "The Abnormal Serial Killer", a sex-switching homicidal maniac who plies the entertainment district's most exclusive club seducing marks with high-end cyberware, killing them, and selling their gear. The police are baffled. It's hard to find someone who can change not only their face but also their sex. Both ads list commcode numbers if you want to contact the poster for more details. The dwarf nods with a big grin when Natalya suggests buying her a drink. "Yeah alright. Already spent a Bradman on piss tonight, but I can't say no to a good-lookin' sheila. "Anyway I'm just a truckie," the stout guy tells Snipey when he asks. "Mostly a contractor for UCAS Online, drivin' cables and poo poo round the island. I been out here since the place first got opened for business. Back when there was no power, no sheilas, all the piss was warm and the water pipes hadn't been connected up yet. I was gettin' by on one pommie wash a week. Bit better now though. "Anyway," the dwarf says again, offering Snipey a hand. "Me name's Dingo. Get a pint into ya, bloke, it's good drinkin' weather. Bit warm out tonight, aye? Me arse cheeks are runnin' a banker. So what do you buggers do for a crust out here?" Noise starts scanning for nodes. You can understand why there might be a business opportunity for Newport here: The local mesh is sluggish, especially in the entertainment district. You find a few stealthed nodes operating in here--hidden PANs as you'd expect from a runner's bar, belonging to those shady figures occupying booths up the back. You risk a glance and spy that very well-dressed suited woman from the plane, that cool character who didn't even look up from her comm when Vincent caused an incident. The other suspects--a gaunt man with the skin on his face burnt by chemicals who's breathing through a respirator and a dwarf sitting opposite him telling a story by gesturing with his cyberarms as much as with words--you don't recognise. The timezone is the same here as in Hong Kong and it's not long before Sparky messages back: ::Hey, you're still alive! Woo! What happened?! You stayed in the car this time, right??!?!?!? I should be in town soon. Picked up a government contract, gonna be flying in some wiz cops. Apparently the rebels blew up the last batch of mages the police recruited? Sounds like this job could be an ongoing income if the Huks keep this up  ::Meanwhile Stormcrow summons powerful magic and becomes one of the most attractive beings in a thousand mile radius. The bartender's black eyes are transfixed on him. "Shinto," the orkish woman says in a thick eastern-european accent. "That word is... you are Japanese. I don't know if this thing is on island. But there is woman who deals in such... areas, and will know. Name is Shroud. Little stall, two streets over," she brings up an ARO and draws a line to the shop. "Sells knick-knacks to those who do not know, and ... very much other things to those who do know. Tell her you know." The bartender hands over Stormcrow's drink. She cannot resist brushing her gnarled hands against yours as she does. "You are good man," she says, clearly overwhelmed by the effect the spell's having. "I don't want you to be hurt. That outfit is very... brave? Please, do not wear outside of expat town. Your country not popular with locals." On A Jungle Track Vincent hits the guard in the face and Waterhouse in his ego. The truck screeches to a halt in that "if you kids don't stop playing up I'll come back there" kind of way. Vincent has a brief moment to evaluate the situation: Apart from the guard next to you with the taser, there's another guard driving and then Waterhouse. The rebel leader is on the other side of Vincent, and the hacker and the chubby turncoat security guard Andy are also back here. The other three prisoners are still hooded and bound. The back doors of the truck swing open. Captain Waterhouse stands there fuming. Vincent's hit a sore spot. There's no way King Dick can let some contractor insult his masculinity. Waterhouse passes his assault rifle to the driver, then takes a few steps back to let Vincent get out of the car. Waterhouse's theme song starts playing from the truck's speakers. "Alright you nonce," Waterhouse growls, pulling clear his vest and t-shirt revealing a winged dagger tattooed on his chest. The scroll underneath it reads 'Who Dares Wins'. The captain's muscles quiver as he triggers his wired reflexes. He takes up a pugilist's stance, classic Queensberry Rules pose. "Company policy don't let us torture prisoners, but you bet your arse we can beat the living gently caress out of anyone tryin' to escape. So let's settle this then. You and me. Step out of the truck if your pansy little yank balls ain't shrunk back inside you yet, sunshine."
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May 14, 2013 16:06
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Noisechildren overboard posted:Ilya's Bar Noise ambles down to a seat at the end of the bar closest to the booths. Since everyone seems to be trying to make friends, he figures that maybe he should give it a shot, too. Taking a seat, he waits for one of the probable runners - preferably that interesting woman from the plane - to glance his way so he can raise his drink and give them a small nod. Just enough to let them know that he sees them and wants to say hello, but not enough to be intrusive, rude, or pushy. Since I am, in reality, a pasty white child of privilege and not a hardened criminal-for-hire, I was having a hard time figuring out how runners say hi to each in a semi-public venue, especially without a local equivalent to ShadowSEA (LinkedIn/Facebook for runners). Is this too obtuse of an approach? I could roll my Shadow Community Knowledge Skill, if that makes any sense. quote:The timezone is the same here as in Hong Kong and it's not long before Sparky messages back: ::I'm all in one piece. Didn't even chip a horn. There was a dust-up at one of the client's local facilities, and my crew was in the best position to do something about it. The site was kind of out in the sticks, so I couldn't stay in the car - but I did stay behind a building, which is just about as good, IMO. I need to score some parts to build a new transceiver module for my rig. The wireless mesh out here sucks, and a bunch of the island is basically still jungle - I'm not really set up to work in that kind of space. I don't think you need to worry about work drying up anytime soon - that mess from earlier today was Huk-related.::
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May 15, 2013 02:12
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Vincent Coll Vincent pulls his jacket off and hands it to the guard still clutching his nose. "Who dares, wins? An odd sentiment for a man who loves procedure." Peeling off his shirt, he reveals the colors across his own chest--not the bold and brilliant colors of an elaborate tattoo, but the reddish brown of dried blood, the greys and blues and faint greens of massive bruising, and the faint glisten of augmented pus seeping frum the puckered wound. He smirks as the driver gasps in shock at the sight. "India, right? It just so happens an Indian Guru taught me Varma Kalai, the points of destruction and healing. Not that I paid much attention to the second set." He hops to the ground and immediately lashes out with one foot, catching Waterhouse in the shin. As the captain's wired reflexes trigger, dragging his attention downwards towards the treacherous feint, Vincent plants the foot and steps forward directly into his foe, trying to smash his forehead directly into the man's face. But the slick jungle soil stymes his approach, making it much to visible. Spent 4 karma to get martial arts, spent 4 karma to raise it to 2, and I spent 2 karma to get a specialty in it. For the record, Vincent's making all that up about the guru, and that's absolutely not how you use Varma Kalai in a fight. Initiative roll, three successes, which is bad. Initiative score of 13. If I act first, attack with a headbutt, only three successes, dealing 3S damage. Alright, guys. Normally I'd just go ahead with my scheme to murder everyone, create openings in security for ambitious young shadowrunners, and then prop up that Kale fellow to be our puppet security head, all while gaining as much leverage on the Panthers as possible. Buuuut, you guys seem kind of by the book, not super eager to screw over literally everyone in the endless quest for personal wealth and power. So, quick OOC vote. Go ahead and try to seize control of Newport Security using local terrorist contacts to (endgame, here) extort money from every company that wants to do business on this island, or just calm the hell down and do the quests handed to us by the friendly NPCs? (If we go for the second, I somehow suspect every job will end with Waterhouse here arresting me. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing?)
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May 15, 2013 02:43
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I'm rolling the ideas around in my head. What comes to mind is this: If Vincent's/your plan fails or otherwise completely backfires ... it doesn't get back to any of us. Snipey can say "He's Mad Dog Coll, what did you expect?" The rest can say "He's a psychopath. He pulled a knife on a guy when we were on the plane." You'd bear the brunt of a bad outcome. But after all, who dares, wins. (That would be a really fun running gag, though.) Totally sitting on my karma for now. It's warm and fuzzy. Snipey One hundred thousand nuyen. Snipey's eyes immediately dart to Natalya, then away again. Hopefully, the figure's high enough to make her comfortable being bait. For that matter, the vampire nest looks interesting. He makes a mental note* to contact each sometime later. "John," Snipey says, shaking the dwarf's hand. "John Frum. Uh ... crust?" Taking a wild and accurate stab at deciphering the Aussie slang, he explains, "Consultants. Private sec." It's around this time that he realizes the bartender has ignored him for the elf far more likely to incite a race riot with his presence. "'scuse me. Blue Hawaiian. Or whatever he's got," he nods at the dwarf, "so long as it's not hurlg." Snipey still remembers the stomach cramps. Turning back to the dwarf, he asks, "UCAS Online? That a matrix corp?" *For a man with an implant commlink, this is as likely as not a text file hovering in his AR display. "What's your job/work here?" was actually my first gut-reaction guess before I looked up 'crust'. Edit: To make it clear, because on rereading what I wrote I'm not sure if it is: I support your plan. I think it could be a lot of fun. And, as I once said to a DM, "The answer to your question is and will always be, 'Yes, I want to start a civil war.'" Vavrek fucked around with this message at 07:20 on May 15, 2013 |
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May 15, 2013 05:08
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Mystic Mongol posted:
I'm basically with Vavrek on this one. I'm not opposed to these sort of shenanigans IC or OOC (and I'm tremendously entertained by watching you bulldoze your way around), but all Noise has seen Vincent do is threaten people and yammer about memetic warfare. Once you get to explaining your game, Noise will probably be on board - he's mostly in it for the money and a stable place to hide out until the heat dies down back in Hong Kong.
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May 15, 2013 05:23
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Basically I'm the same. I have no problem playing both sides against the middle, as Stormcrow has a grudge against the corps anyway. Given the right motivator, he might even sympathize with the opposition, even if he thinks their stand against progress is a little backward. But he tends to like to work a little less gonzo than Coll -- his training has been in cloak-and-dagger operations, and he values subtlety. He might support you, but he isn't going to approve of your methods.
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May 15, 2013 05:54
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Natalya Natalya looked over the posted jobs with varying degrees of interest once she was certain that her name wasn't listed among them...she hadn't really expected word to travel this far this quickly, she imagined that Dmitri and his boys were still looking for her in Vladivostok thanks to her off-the-books flight out of the country, but nonetheless it never hurt to make sure. She quickly dismissed the one about vampires without a second thought...she was many things but an exterminator wasn't one of them, let somebody else play pest control...but the other bounty, now that was intriguing. For a reward that large to be offered on an island as small as this one, the killer either had to have crossed someone with very deep pockets or the various vested interests here in Lagu Lagu had come together in a display of mutual civic responsibility. Either way it was something worth looking into and she downloaded the code to her commlink for later. children overboard posted:"Anyway," the dwarf says again, offering Snipey a hand. "Me name's Dingo. Get a pint into ya, bloke, it's good drinkin' weather. Bit warm out tonight, aye? Me arse cheeks are runnin' a banker. So what do you buggers do for a crust out here?" "Oh, this and that. Earlier today I killed several people," Natalya said conversationally, accepting the vivid drink that the bartender slid her way and downing it in a single satisfied gulp. "And then blew up several more, also an APC. It is only my first day here, though, so I am hopeful things will become more exciting shortly." Calling Natalya "by the book" may be a bit premature. I've been treating things so far as sort of the tutorial level so to speak...getting a feel for the island, the various big figures, easing back into the system after some time apart, that sort of thing. Natalya is less motivated solely by profit so much as excitement and entertainment value as well (money doesn't hurt though) so her personal ambitions are a bit orthogonal to Vincent's but I don't have any real objections to Coll's schemes provided they don't wind up completely derailing things. Also I'm definitely in favor of Coll getting arrested frequently.
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May 15, 2013 21:09
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Nail Entering the bar, Nail heads for the bar and orders a beer. He'd like something stronger after the today, but there's still a meeting with Newport to deal with so no hard drinking yet. Sorry, hammered with grading papers and getting ready for the end of the semester. Should be getting less busy by this weekend. Agreeing with Emerald Rogue here. All Nail has seen is someone who wants to do their own thing, intimidate everyone, kill and maim at random, etc... without any desire to let everyone else in on his plan. Would Nail be interested? maybe.
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May 16, 2013 18:18
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Ilya's Bar Noise tries to catch the attention of the cool-eyed woman in the suit. She glances up, gives a look of practiced disinterest and goes back to whatever she's working on on her comm. She looks like the kind of character who's here to meet someone and not leave her livelihood down to random meeetings, and given her sculpted looks (presentably attractive but not so attractive you'd remember her for days) she's probably well-practiced at shrugging off attention in a bar. Dingo chuckles at Snipey's drink choice as if it's a hilarious joke. "Hahahahaha! Good one mate! I'll get ya a beer. An Aussie beer. The local piss tastes like an old dog's fart. Oi! Love!" he shouts at the entranced bartender again, trying desperately to get her attention off the mythically attractive Stormcrow. "Two more King Browns of Vicky Bitters!" Eventually she's able to tear herself away and start fetching more drinks. You're served up a large and unremarkable bitter lager that you can tell will taste terrible as soon as the bottle's temperature rises higher than 2 degrees celcius (which, in this weather, will take about 30 seconds). "Anyway," Dingo says again. "Yeah UCASOL's a net company. Big plans for the local network, gateway into Asia and all that. I'm just a contractor but. Get paid silly money to haul poo poo round the island while the locals chuck rocks at me truck. So uh, if you don't mind me askin', who are you a standover man for?" he asks Natalya. "Or is that just a hobby?" Emerald Rogue posted:Since I am, in reality, a pasty white child of privilege and not a hardened criminal-for-hire, I was having a hard time figuring out how runners say hi to each in a semi-public venue, especially without a local equivalent to ShadowSEA (LinkedIn/Facebook for runners). Is this too obtuse of an approach? I could roll my Shadow Community Knowledge Skill, if that makes any sense. An invite or recommendation is best for approaching such sorts with twitchy reflexes and an unhealthy dose of paranoia, but in lieu of those you can roll Etiquette to introduce yourself in a nonthreatening or even alluring manner (depending on how many hits you get). Opening Moves Vincent moves in to strike but Waterhouse reacts faster. He leans into a strong right cross aimed right at Vincent's jaw. "You yanks are always slow off the mark when it comes to a fight," he taunts as he resumes his guard. "Took you two bloody years to show up to World War II!" The guards chuckle. - (He rolls 15 on init, then 5 hits to attack, DV 3S+net hits. If dmg equals body or higher remember the knockdown rule)
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May 18, 2013 06:07
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Vincent Coll Being of German descent, having spent his life working for German directors, Vincent doesn't take the insult well. As he opens his mouth to respond, Waterhouse takes advantage of his lapse in attention and lays one across his jaw. Starts burst behind his eyes before his pain compensator kicks in. Well. If he's going to be like that. Vincent feints towards Waterhouse, but instead of pursuing he dives past the man, coming out of a roll in front of the driver holding Waterhouse's assault rifle and drives his hand directly into the man's throat, burying it up to the third finger. As his victim falls back, dying, Vincent snatches the gun from his twitching grasp and levels it at the remaining guard. "Nobody move!" Vincent shouts, turning to bring the gun to bear on the guard with a broken nose and a taser. Going loud and violent, mostly because it seems like a blow by blow fist fight would take literal months, and also I was losing, so let's try something else. With the penalty to my attack roll for a bonus to damage value, 14 dice becomes eight successes on a DV 9P attack. I suspect this is a straight decapitation. Ironically if I had just rolled that trying to punch Waterhouse I'm confident this fight would be over immediately. OH WELL. Six boxes physical damage out of ten, four boxes stun damage out of ten.
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May 18, 2013 08:25
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Snipey "Thanks," Snipey says, quickly drinking some of the beer before the taste gets even worse. It doesn't help. "You work for them all this time or d'you bounce around? I could put a good word for you, chummer..." He trails off, leaving it to Natalya to explain that they work for the competition. Snipey smiles a shark's smile. It fades when he tries the beer again. A Blue Hawaiian would be delicious right now. Mystic Mongol: Yeah, I thought you might just try stabbing Waterhouse in the heart and asserting your dominance over the other guards though sheer personal charisma. Taking out the guy with the gun is probably the wiser choice.
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May 18, 2013 09:40
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Natalyachildren overboard posted:"Anyway," Dingo says again. "Yeah UCASOL's a net company. Big plans for the local network, gateway into Asia and all that. I'm just a contractor but. Get paid silly money to haul poo poo round the island while the locals chuck rocks at me truck. So uh, if you don't mind me askin', who are you a standover man for?" he asks Natalya. "Or is that just a hobby?" "Standover...?," Natalya said before bursting into delighted laughter as though the dwarf had just told some sort of joke. "Oh come now, do I look frightening to you, hmm? Please darling, I am a delicate flower...just ask any of them," she went on, crossing one cybernetic leg over the other and waving her hand vaguely in the direction of her coworkers even as she signaled the bartender for another drink. "Mm, and anyway yes, all of that is mostly a hobby. It can be fun, but it is not where my true passion lies. No, I am an artist and I have come to Lagu Lagu to grace it with my presence. Also to make money," she admitted with an indifferent shrug. "Art is not cheap. Fortunately a man called Newport is a bold enough visionary to recognize greatness when he sees it, and like all true patrons of the arts he has agreed to sponsor my work while I am here in exchange for the occasional commission." I have no earthly idea whether this fight of Coll's is going to end with him victorious over a pile of bodies or Mystic Mongol rolling up a new character. Stay tuned for more!
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May 18, 2013 10:48
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Stormcrow Stormcrow smiles his brilliant smile and laughs a surprisingly musical laugh, perfectly pitched to C sharp. Light flashes in his eyes. Were they always so deep and dark? Was his face always this symmetrical? His effect on the bartender is not lost on him. That was the problem with getting the mojo working like this, it was sort of impossible not to be seen. It was about as subtle as a floodlamp on a moonless night. It makes him a little nervous to be this conspicuous in a runner bar before he really has the lay of the land, but on the other hand, he really needs this contract negotiation to go well. "I understand," he says to the bartender, taking a small fastidious sip of his sake. "With what some of my countrymen got up to, I can't say I blame the locals for hating us. Believe me when I say there's no love lost between me and the Japancorps. But one doesn't hide what one is." "Still, I appreciate your advice. I'll be more careful. Are their any places especially that I should avoid? You know, places that are unsafe for my kind." Trying to get a sense if there are any bars where rebels hangout or the like.
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May 18, 2013 20:00
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Ilya's Bar "In that clothing?" the bartender asks, trying to work out how to put it gently so as to not wound this magnificent angelic thing in front of her. "I would not go to any Filipino pub. But some worse than other. None worse than the 2/9 Bar. Run by Vachel. Vachel is old soldier... makes no secret of opposing peace treaty. Wants to take back rest of country from Japanese. But so far he is all talk. Has not been linked to any crime. Yet." Dingo takes a long slug of beer and tells Snipey "ah I go where the work is, cobber. Me contract ain't written in blood. So Newport ey? That the startup mob? I heard the bloke who runs it has a hundred different paintings of himself in his house. He sounds a bit up himself if you ask-" Dingo stops midsentence, looking at something over your shoulder and going immediately silent. You turn to see that the boss has just entered the building. Nigel Newport is tall, broad-shouldered man, dark-haired and with the kind of old-fashioned unrefined, slightly-weathered good looks of someone who's eschewed plastic surgery. Wearing an old-style pinstripe suit, he has a sort-of infectious enthusiasm about him that draws eyes towards himself and almost make you miss the fact that he's standing between a stunningly gorgeous elf offsider with her jet black hair cut into a corporate bob, and a pair of burly security guards whose implanted horse muscle biceps are straining at their suit-jacket sleeves. Newport does a walk-by of the bar and places an order: "One gin and tonic, one pint of cider with ice, one round of whatever these chaps are having," he gestures to your group, and then turns back to the bartender, "and one for yourself, dear." The order placed he starts offering handshakes all round. "Nigel Newport," he says with a wide smile. "Absolutely brilliant to meet you. Who's who, then?" Just Not Cricket Vincent catches the driver completely off guard. The blade rips right into the man's neck. Torn arteries evacuate the blood from his brain in a spurting flood and he dies in seconds. Waterhouse and the taserman are stunned. Vincent has time to snatch up the assault rifle and level it. "Easy now, governor," Waterhouse says softly, keeping his hands raised and palms open. "That was a mistake, but you come in with us now and I'll make sure you get a fair trial. But make Newport track you down, mate, and you'll spend your dying days screaming in a corporate holding cell with an unhappy chappy and his pair of pliers, yeah? Make a smart choice, now, guv."
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May 19, 2013 04:56
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Vincent Coll Vincent looks from gun to guard to waterhouse, breathing deeply as the cocktail of adrenaline, dopamine, testosterone, and a dozen artificial chemicals from the superthyroid gland pumped through his body, twitching slightly as the wired reflexes fired off. "You know, it's been a rough day for me," he says sorrowfully. "Standing in line, at this point in my career I should be past that. A public jet, disgraceful. That orc wouldn't give me his commlink after I asked so nicely for it. I've been getting the runaround, I got shot, that idiot ganger opened fire when I was still talking, that miserable little poo poo in the truck fired his mouth off about his boss after I clearly told him to let me do the talking. I think I've been quite--quite calm, really." "But being laughed at? By the help?" Still facing Waterhouse, Vincent points the stolen weapon at the remaining guard and fires a pair of bullets straight into his gut. "A man's got to have standards." Just grabbed the top assault rifle off of the equipment list, an AK-97, a 5P assault rifle with 1 point of recoil compensation and nothing else. Two shots. First one gets five successes, second gets two. 5P damage each.
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May 19, 2013 06:12
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Natalyachildren overboard posted:Dingo takes a long slug of beer and tells Snipey "ah I go where the work is, cobber. Me contract ain't written in blood. So Newport ey? That the startup mob? I heard the bloke who runs it has a hundred different paintings of himself in his house. He sounds a bit up himself if you ask-" Dingo stops midsentence, looking at something over your shoulder and going immediately silent. Glancing over her shoulder at the sound of several someones entering the bar, Natalya grinned as she finally saw the man she'd been waiting all day to see in the flesh. "I will be sure to pass that along" she said teasingly, patting the dwarf on the cheek before turning around to meet the new boss, hopefully not the same as the old boss. children overboard posted:Newport does a walk-by of the bar and places an order: "One gin and tonic, one pint of cider with ice, one round of whatever these chaps are having," he gestures to your group, and then turns back to the bartender, "and one for yourself, dear." Natalya unfolded herself from her seat, standing at full augmented height as she accepted the man's handshake with a smile, tail lazily swaying behind her. "So you are Mr. Newport then. Excellent. I am Natalya Voronova, and may I just say that it is a pleasure to finally get paid." Her tone was jovial but even before Newport had approached the bar she was already quickly sizing up his traveling companions. The bodyguards were there to attract attention as much as offer protection, obvious implant muscle standing out like a warning display. It was cheap and it was blatant and it was dreadfully common, which meant that in all likelihood they could be disregarded as nothing more important than a set of fashion accessories. The elf, on the other hand, didn't look dangerous but looks could easily be deceiving. The fact that she was here with him at all meant that she was probably of some importance, though whether she was the scalpel to the bodyguards' hammer or something else entirely remained to be seen.
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May 19, 2013 09:58
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Ilya's Bar Mr Newport grasps Natalya's hand, shaking it warmly. "Wow, lovely to meet you. Of course we'll discuss compensation, can't have my runners running around in rags now, can I? And may I say: Astounding mods!" he says, glancing down at your raptor legs but not so long that it'd be considered rude. "Just like on the telly! Brilliant!" Mmm. He smells good. [Worst] Employee of the Month Vincent puts a round in the guard. The first shot slips his vest and doubles him over in pain. The guard tries to raise the taser to return fire but with a second shot Vincent kills him. "Time to put you down, Mad Dog!" Waterhouse snarls, invoking his days on the Eaton first 15 rugby team and charging at Vincent, throwing himself into a leaping tackle. - He rolls 3 hits on his subduing check. You defend with melee, and if he ends up with more hits then you're subdued (p161). Note that if you shoot at him while in melee you take a -1 penalty (-3 for melee, +2 for point blank), or you can move out of melee but you'll be subject to Interception (p161).
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May 19, 2013 12:59
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Natalya "Mmm, why thank you," Natalya said as she struck a pose, always glad for an opportunity to show off. Newport seemed pleasant enough so far. There was something about him in fact, something strangely compelling...something in the air... Rolling Transhuman Body Mod Culture to get an idea as to whether I'm smelling cologne or tailored pheromones. 9d6t5 = 5 successes.
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May 19, 2013 20:29
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Noise No response from that interesting lady at the end of the bar? Oh well - can't win 'em all. Being a people person is someone else's job, anyway. Noise polishes off his beer and moves off toward the newly entered Mr. Newport, after taking a surreptitious video recording of the three probably-runners through his image-linked contacts. Maybe a facial recognition search will turn up some details on the competition, or whoever they are. Noise takes up a position behind Natalya's shoulder, looming up out of the gloom of the bar. "You can call me Noise, Mr. Newport. Good to meet you, finally."
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May 19, 2013 23:01
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Snipey At the voice of his employer, Snipey sets his beer on the bar, in front of the dwarf who paid for it, and turns around. Newport looks just like his picture. "Mr. Newport. I'm your sniper," he says, shaking the CEO's hand. If other people continue to pay for his drinks, they may as well get it right. Without glancing back, Snipey sends a private message to the bartender. ::Blue Hawaiian.:: "Ms. Voronova," Snipey nods his head in Natalya's direction, "says what we're all thinking."
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May 20, 2013 00:28
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Vincent Coll Vincent reacts to the charge by swinging the gun around towards Waterhouse, knowing the man would have no choice but to go for it. As the man dove towards him, Vincent rotates in place, pulling the gun away from the man as he brings his right hand around, before planting it blade-first into Waterhouse's back. The pain suppression software running in Mad Dog Coll's skull disgorges dozens of warning chimes as Waterhouse's shoulder collides with Vincent's stomach, sending him staggering back a few steps as he pukes up some blood. Four successes in deflecting Waterhouse's attack. Then a 5P attack with eight total successes.
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May 20, 2013 00:35
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Nail Nail may not be the most charismatic guy in the place, but he knows enough etiquette behave in front of the boss. "Name's Nail. While Snipey here may not like to get up close and personal with whoever you want shot, I've got no problem with it." Finishing his first beer, Nail orders another.
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May 20, 2013 04:17
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Stormcrow "Stormcrow," the elf says. The air fairly crackles with power as he offers a handshake (just the perfect amount of pressure! Not to hard, not too soft. Heavenly). Nobody is showing him up while the mojo is cranked to 11. "Its a pleasure to meet face to face at last. No offense, given your line of work, but dealing electronically lacks a certain... charm, yes?"
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May 20, 2013 10:09
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Ilya's Bar Mr Newport shakes hands all round. As he reaches for Snipey's hand the vision mags on the elf's cybereyes pick up that the pinstripe stitching on his suit's sleeve is actually made of tiny thread letters, illegible to the naked eye, but you can see they read "NEWPORTNEWPORTNEWPORTNEWPORTNEWPORT". It looks exorbitantly expensive. Natalya concludes one of two possibilities about the man's alluring scent: i: Mr Newport's genetic immune profile complements hers exactly and he possesses some huge number of evolutionary disease resistances that she lacks that her babies would desperately like to be born with (also the boys seem to want them too). ii, and more likely: That dreamy scent must be a highly illegal pheromone mod. "Stormcrow!" Mr Newport says with quite genuine excitement as he meets the elf. "Wow! Love the name! It sounds so... dangerous! Ms Prescott!" he says, turning to his offsider. "Take a note: When Will gets back we should discuss giving him a street name. He could be... I don't know... something British. The Kensington Killer or Baron Painington or something. Something like that. But better!" "Of course, Mr Newport," the impeccably-dressed elf says politely, obviously an old-hand at humouring her flamboyant employer's fancies. "Ah, that reminds me," Mr Newport says as he picks up his cider. "Ladies, gents, this is Lindsay Prescott, my chief of staff; head of HR and PR. If it walks and talks, asks questions or just asks for money, that's her bag." "Very pleased to meet you all," she says with the finely-tuned received pronunciation of a BBC broadcaster, saluting with her gin and tonic as she takes the first sip. "Speaking of street names, I'd like you all to attend Monday's marketing committee meeting. We'd like to discuss rebranding opportunities. The committee feels that some of your street names could be minorly altered to enhance..." she glances at Snipey and searches for the right word, "...gravitas." "Oh Lindsay!" Mr Newport chuckles dismissively as he beckons you to follow him to a table. "They don't want to sit through that rot! Come on, let's get a booth like proper Mr Johnsons and talk about money! Now, what's standard for a job like that? 3,000 a piece? 4,000?" Position Vacant Waterhouse dives at Vincent. The elf steps aside from the weight of the attack and his handblade strikes perfectly. It rips right into Waterhouse's chest, the hardened blade smashing through rib, and he collapses to the ground. The Captain's eyes flicker up at Vincent with hatred as he starts shaking, going into shock as his vital organs scream at him that they would please like some more blood please. He'll be dead in about a minute, barring some rapid and expert medical care. The three prisoners sit in the back of the truck, still hooded and bound. "So," the rebel leader eventually queries, voice muffled behind the sack. "Did it go well for us, or poorly for us?"
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May 20, 2013 15:18
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Natalya After a brief moment's consideration, Natalya turned back to the bar and waved off the drink the bartender was preparing to slide her way. "I have changed my mind. I will have a shot of that instead," she said, gesturing to a bottle of 151-proof rum. As the shot was poured and slid towards her, she turned away from the meet-and-greet and dipped a napkin into the high-strength alcohol before discreetly daubing the insides of her nostrils with it. It was every bit as comfortable as one might imagine, but the scent in the air, along with pretty much every other scent in the bar, was quickly and rather thoroughly overwhelmed by the scouring smell of overproof alcohol evaporating into her sinuses. It was a crude fix, and a temporary one at that, but for the moment at least she could approach the meeting with a clear head. Well, clear-ish. She turned back in time to catch the discussion about street names, and for the first time today someone had finally managed to say something that made her blink. "I'm sorry, rebranding?" She traded glances with the others before speaking once more. "I am going to go out on a limb here and guess that this is perhaps the first time you have hired specialists such as us, yes?" Natalya had dealt with numerous Johnsons before in the course of her career, but never one quite like this. If this entire affair was the result of some elaborate made-for-reality-television hoax she was going to be quite cross.
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May 20, 2013 22:10
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Noise At the mention of "branding" and "marketing," Noise's eyebrows make an involuntary jump skyward before he reins in his surprise. ::People, I know we come from all over the place, and I'm sure we all work in very different environments. I know we're a bit more lax about public exposure in Hong Kong than in, say, Seattle. But I am pretty damned sure that none of us signed up for a reality show or action trid or whatever the hell this is. I'm not much of a conversational asset, so can one of you people persons figure out if he's serious or not? Or at least negotiate some points on the back end or a limited-edition action figure licensing deals or something.:: Noise suppresses a groan. This deal gets more complicated every hour - fabulous recipe for a migraine. If this turns to be like that tour guide job for that damned mangaka last year ...
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May 21, 2013 01:38
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Vincent Coll "It went well for you," Vincent says curtly, "If you like working fast. You're minutes from safety, and minutes from death." Soon he has all three cut free from the cuffs with their hoods tossed into the back of the truck. "Stump, you need to grab a comm and call two or three of your most discrete allies, have them come with guns, a few cans of gasoline, and a few hundred rounds. We need to make this look like a Huk attack. Specs, I need to know everything their commlinks and vehicle broadcast in the past five minutes, and I need to know forty seconds ago. Then take everything they have that stores data and pocket it. Mumbles! Help me load the corpses into the truck. Then drive it off the road about twenty meters and crash it into a tree. Also, find me a knife and a zip-cuff." Seizing Waterhouse's arm, he struggles with the most timid of the rebels to drag the enormous man into the passenger's side seat of the truck. Leaving the two smaller guards for Mumbles to struggle with alone, Vincent steps aside to catch a quick breather. As the fatigue washes over him, he stares blankly into the jungle, the beautiful foliage rustling in the wind as some barely seen jungle creature slowly creeps through the brush, watching the humans in case they suddenly turned into food. God, what a shithole. "S, sir? The knife you wanted?" The rebel from Essex had crept up behind Vincent. "And the zip?" "Yes." Vincent takes both, pocketing the zip and drawing the knife from it's sheathe. "Do the Huk have a preferred form of maiming? Hardly matters." "I, I don't..." Mumble's voice changes into a startled cry as Vincent places the knife against the side of his own head. Wincing, he draws the blade down and across, drawing a long and shallow cut under his eye, past his nose, and across the lips. Turning the blade sideways to admire his handiwork in the reflection, Vincent gives a grim little smile at his ruined face. It had been beautiful--the woman who had made it was a true artist--but this was no business for the sentimental. Glancing up, Vincent realizes all three rebels are staring at him. "Nothing to thee here." He slams the knife back into the sheathe and tosses it towards Specs, the hacker, along with the assault rifle. "Take thethe with you and lothe them in an armory." Plan: Wipe the electronic trail by grabbing every piece of electronics and turning them off, sending the weapons with my prints on them to a rebel armory where crime scene investigators rarely go, and then obscure the physical remains by driving the truck into a tree, shoot it a few hundred times, and setting it on fire. Then, everyone escapes into the jungle, I snag Stump's contact information and use the knife and ziptie to mark myself up a little--the knife to scar the face, the ziptie to leave marks on my arms to make it look more like I was struggling to escape. Then I go my separate way from the rebels--them crawling back to their camp, me crawling back to the city to find a Newport facility, or failing that, a hospital or a vet or something. I'd loot the bodies, but I'm not sure I'd be able to explain what I was doing with their stuff or wipe any RFID tags so I guess I'm staying unequipped for the moment. Also, I've really got to do something about Mumbles (aka Andy) before he blows things, but honestly that's a 'tomorrow' problem.
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May 21, 2013 02:22
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Snipey At first, Snipey wonders how long it's been since Newport's last hit of novacoke. Was it at the office? Or was he one of those execs who'd do it in the car, right before a meet? Hearing a glass set down behind him, he looks back and sees something blue. Ignoring the dwarf's incredulous expression, Snipey accepts his fruity cocktail. He turns and, resting his gold eyes on Ms. Prescott, takes a sip. He does not speak. ::A reality show with  gravitas. I ain't no fuckin' keeb.::A moment later, he sighs softly, and his eyes narrow. He's staring at an empty spot in the middle distance. The cocktail isn't great, but it's strong. ::I didn't come here to relax or get famous. You chums saw the bounties. Who wants to go hunting Monday?:: Edit: What day is it now? Is Monday tomorrow? (I mean, in this timezone, it's Monday right now...) Vavrek fucked around with this message at 03:26 on May 21, 2013 |
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May 21, 2013 02:46
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NatalyaEmerald Rogue posted:::I'm not much of a conversational asset, so can one of you people persons figure out if he's serious or not? Or at least negotiate some points on the back end or a limited-edition action figure licensing deals or something.:: ::Speaking of which, I wonder how our sixth wheel is doing,:: Natalya subvocalized idly as she downed the shot of rum, letting the potent alcohol burn a trail down her throat. Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you're leaving Andy alive myself.
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May 21, 2013 03:37
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Nail Nail had spent the better part of five years trying to keep a low profile when it comes to the corps. Now Newport, or rather his assistant, apparently wanted to boost all of their image. But for now they were paying the bills. Once Newport lays out what his plans for them were, everyone could decide if it's too much exposure or not. ::Yeah, not interested in being part of some new simsense series or whatever. There's a reason I spent so long riding security on ships. But, he's paying the bills for now so going along for the ride. If it's out of hand, any of us can just walk after we get the hazard pay.::
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May 21, 2013 05:06
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Kai Tave posted:Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you're leaving Andy alive myself. I'm not going to kill him for being a dumb.
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May 22, 2013 05:03
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NoiseKai Tave posted:
::Wish I could tell you. I'm still holding this drat commlink for him - who the hell shows up for a job without even a 'link? I'd rather show up without my pants.:: Noise accompanies the text message with an animated image of a wide-eyed, confused looking cat. 
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May 24, 2013 12:44
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Natalya ::Eh. I'm not wearing pants,:: Natalya responded with an indifferent shrug, which was technically true, her jumpsuit tailored to display her cybernetic legs to their fullest. ::But I'm guessing that wherever Mr. Coll comes from, he came from there in a hurry. I can't imagine why,:: she subvocalized, giggling.
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May 24, 2013 22:52
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Snipey ::You don't know Mad Dog Coll?:: Snipey shakes his head slightly, remembering that he's not in Seattle anymore (as if the heat would let him forget). ::I been wondering myself what brought him here. Didn't realize he had no 'link.:: Snipey examines the table Newport selected. He takes a seat where can, if necessary, shoot anyone who might come to attack the CEO. A dead meal ticket buys no food. "Would you believe it's fifty, Mr. Newport?" Snipey jokes, dryly. "Fifty thousand a head." It just occurred to me that we've been standing here staring and chatting while Newport grabbed a table. Also, our even magical-er elf isn't saying anything.
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May 25, 2013 07:38
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Stormcrow Stormcrow slides into the booth across from Newport, deftly engaging the white noise generator with a fluid motion as he sits. "I think 7 is a good starting bid," he says. "Your representatives didn't mention the rebels had access to military hardware when we were first discussing this engagement. That APC was an unpleasant surprise. Given the results, no casualties and three potential information sources in hand with only cosmetic damage to the facility, I think you'll agree that this more than fair." "You can even bill us for the garage door if you want." Negotiatin' Negotiating: 12d6t5 6
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May 25, 2013 08:57
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Ilya's Bar "Oohhhh, don't let Ms Prescott's buzzwords scare you," Mr Newport chuckles, waving a hand dismissively as Natalya queries the rebranding effort. "The fact is that when it comes to your lawful actions--defending a facility from declared terrorists, for instance--investors will want answers, and we have no problem being upfront and saying 'yes, we've hired some extremely competent individuals who took care of the situation with no loss of our human resources'. We've been getting hit by Huks because they think our security is subpar. I believe that will change once word spreads about your success. And," he says, taking a sip of cider and leaning in close as he lowers his voice to barely audible above the noise generator. "When it comes to less-legitimate exercises, well, we'll deny your involvement to the blooming hilt, won't we?" he winks. When Snipey pipes up with a preposterous figure Mr Newport laughs fully and loudly. "Good one! In Pesos, maybe, but they switched them out years ago. No I think Stormcrow's more on the mark. $7,000 it is." Newport's commlink rings. He glances down and silences it. "Kale again," he mumbles to Ms Prescott. "Send him a message and tell him I'll call him when we're finished." The Jungle Track Andy's hood comes free. He looks at his dead colleagues and vomits on his shoes. Once you free the rebels the leader warmly slaps you on the back with his remaining hand. "I knew you were smart. The Panther commander will grant you great riches for freeing me. By the way, Ears, my name is Oscar, not Stumpy." A few minutes later and the rebel leader reports he has some backup on the way. The news from the weedy hacker is less encouraging. His English is shocking, but once the leader translates it into Tagalog and back you are told "the vehicle's sensors were transmitting to HQ, as were the smartguns as soon as they were switched off safety". From your knowledge of security procedures, you cannot imagine that every camera feed would be monitored live (a company this size must have many hundreds). They're likely sitting in the company database, bound to be examined once Waterhouse is overdue to return and his underlings go looking for answers. Andy wipes his mouth. "Well I'm going straight for the harbour," he announces. "Getting the next dodgy ferry out of here before Newport finds out what's what." Vavrek posted:Edit: What day is it now? Is Monday tomorrow? (I mean, in this timezone, it's Monday right now...) It's currently Friday night.
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May 26, 2013 09:49
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Vincent Coll Vincent gives Andy a firm handshake. "Never let anyone tell you you didn't help," he says, practically pinning the man in place with his gaze. "You came, you fought, you helped the Huk, and no one can take that away from you. When you leave, thtay thafe and contact me if anything goeth wrong. But in the immediate, you still need to crath thith truck into a tree." The news from Specs is much, much worse. "<Japanese better? I'm passing this problem on to a friend. Find the commlink contact for a troll named Noise, came to town about three hours ago, from Seatle. Troll, hacker, runner. Got some weight to his name, an active guy. Worst case, I'm sure you can find him on JackPoint.>" Once the connection is established, Vincent has Specs set his avatar to a floating, static photo of Vincent's freshly scarred face. ::Heads up. Newport security vehicle license plate 12T3-G45 just sent some incriminating footage to security, along with some video feed from a . You need to wipe that footage before anyone sees it, and make sure no one else as seen it, without leaving evidence the guy erasing it was you, or all six of us are getting shot. Good luck at the meeting with Mr. Newport, be sure to get an operations budget. It's looking like I'll be late.::
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May 26, 2013 15:20
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Snipey ::That was fast. Should'a gone for 10. See if you can squeeze him for more. Exec probably spends that much on his hair.:: To give his fellow runners perspective on Newport, Snipey's cybereyes shift to looking at the man's suit. He magnifies his vision enough so that the letters hidden within the suit's stripes, the eternal NEWPORTNEWPORTNEWPORTNEWPORT, can be seen. Not being skilled at image editing, all he attaches to his message are three snapshots at different zoom levels. Sports car agenda, man. Sports car agenda. Edit: vvvv I think Vinnie's racist comment was just a thought, not out loud. He mostly antagonized Noise by acting like he was in charge and Noise was a subordinate (and by being a psychopath). Vavrek fucked around with this message at 23:45 on May 26, 2013 |
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May 26, 2013 20:09
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Natalya "Ooooh yes, I would be delighted to meet with your investors," Natalya said with a gleeful enthusiasm that suggested just what a terrible idea it would be to let her come within 500 feet of anyone resembling a shareholder. "As for the matter or payment I am amenable to seven," she went on, ignoring the sniper's interjection. She was sure that Newport could technically pay them more, but that would doubtlessly require long and tedious negotiations that she frankly had little interest in, and combined with the monthly retainer he had already paid them it wasn't an unfair amount. An even ten all together would have been nice, round numbers having a certain appeal, but for a single day's work she'd take the nine without complaint. I just want to point out for the record that Vincent's plan here is 1). kill the head of security of the person who just hired us (and some other guys too) then 2). get the hacker that he's been antagonizing and I think even made a racist crack to earlier to both clean up his tracks AND possibly incriminate himself/the rest of us in Vincent's shenanigans. I just wanted to spell that out so we could all see what it looked like. I have to admit that I'm not really one for interpary conflict nor do I want to gently caress Mystic Mongol over but the temptation to simply reply, upon receiving Coll's request for help, "what do you mean WE, paleface?" seems like it could get overwhelming.
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May 26, 2013 21:50
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| # ? Jun 10, 2024 21:35 |
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Nah, if you feel like that, that's cool. Just say so, and I'll try to sort this out on my own while you go back to posting pictures of cats in character. I've already got two thirds of a plan to clean this one up, it'd involve some quick thinking and maybe killing a few more people but if I'm forced to be a desperate, cornered rat forced into an ever widening web of lies and death to cover for my own sociopathic ambition, well darn! I guess I'm stuck.
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May 27, 2013 01:44
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