Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Poindexter on <03-01-15/2146:49>
-
[Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 4:45pm 2076]
The smell has just started to come back. Maybe it was yesterday, maybe the day before, but it's finally warm enough that the swamp has started to come back to life and with it, its pungent stench that clogs the lungs and stings the unprotected eye. The 3:00 rain came like always and it lasted a little bit longer than it normally does, having only stopped about 10 minutes ago. It does a good job of keeping the smell at bay while it's going on, but once it stops, the swamp air swoops in to cover the city. Well, not the whole city; just the parts that are less well off. Funny how that works out like that, huh? While the rain falls, it's almost like the whole city takes a little breather for a bit. The cops don't really patrol, the Red Fivers don't really race. Drivebys almost never happen while it's raining in Old Jack City. I mean, sure; the dope game keeps going and the shadows too, but most everything else just kinda kicks back on the couch and says, "Fuggit. Nothin REAL bad is gonna happen while it's rainin." Strangely enough, for the most part, they're right.
By this time, the muggy heat is starting to grip the city and tiny little clouds of fog wisp up here and there from pavement subjected to too rapid a temperature change, too quickly. Your clothes, if they'd been protected from the cold rain, are now soaked from the muggy hot air that has replaced it. It's a strange time of year, but at least the mosquitoes haven't started hatching yet. The only place that isn't warm yet is the beach. The last to warm in spring and the last to cool in fall, the beaches are always behind the rest of the city, not only in temperature, but also in fashion, music, technology, basically everything. Due to these stereotypes, they aren't really viewed as part of the city the way many of the other regions are. Except Ponte Vedra, where the rich people live. The wind at the beach is insane at the moment, and will likely stay this way until the area reaches the same temperature as the rest of the city. The wind is ice cold and full of salt and sand. It changes direction constantly and no protection save getting inside will keep it from every nook and cranny you have, as well as some you only learned of due to cleaning sand from them.
It's at this point in the day, that each of you gets a ping on your comm. It's a recorded voice message, and regardless of the name given on the other end, you recognize the voice and attitude as that crazy, zen-smoking human fixer most commonly known around town as "One67"
@Zweiblumen
<<@Shortstuff [Stunna] Whaddup shawtay!? This the train bombin-est, the main obelisk, refrains from entertaining dames, way stompin kids. OJC represent, Kid! Need some jing? I gotcha for some short work tonight. Holla at a mug, wiz?>> A map ARO of an old building JUST on the northside of downtown is included.
@Ravensoracle
<<@Patch [One67] Ayo! Big respek due to the mighty mighty! Got some "maybe" work that pays like "FA' SHO!" work. Come through the spot tonight. Same spot we met.>>
@Saithor
<<@Lizzy [Scrub] Your boy Snake told me you were down for reliable pay for reliable work. Meet tonight?>> A map ARO of an old building JUST on the northside of downtown is included.
@ProfGast
<<@QT [Sam] Hey girl, I promise this aint no romantic shit, but I wish it could be. Naw, this all business. Tonight, come meet me on the rooftop we was at before.>>
-
QT, [Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 4:45pm 2076]
QT tries in vain to ignore the incessant beeping sound that means her Commlink has a new message. Eyes still shut she reaches out to shut it off and…of course. It's not within arm's reach.
Damn, I guess I put it on the desk before taking a nap to wait out the rains...
She cracks open her eyes and glances at the chrono next to her.
Fine. Have it your way comm.
QT rolls off the couch she's on and stalks over to the desk to silence the infernal device. She listens to the message then nods and fires back a reply.
<<@Sam [QT] Alright sweetie but you'll have to make it up to me next time since this time is all just business. Should I come to the meet dressed out? Or is there going to be time to grab stuff after the meet?>>
-
Patch's day had already been a full one by the time he had gotten the message from One67. A kid in his crappy apartment complex had fell of a skateboard and broken his arm. That meant Patch had been woken up by a concerned mother beating on the garage door that was the front door to his place. Kinda what you'd expect when you live in apartments that had in their former glory been an old storage complex.
After that it was setting a guys nose after it had been broken in the fighter's pit at Patch's favorite bar. The free beer was a nice payment though. A couple of rounds in the Pit for Patch himself worked out the kinks in his muscles. Of course, he then had to set the dislocated shoulder of springy little daisy eater that had been his opponent.
He'd even got in a good hour long ride before the rain had started. It gave him a chance to blow out the cobwebs his bike had gained from him having to take it easy riding through all the damn slush. The damn heat and humidity was getting to him though. It was nice to get to somewhere other than the frozen hell that had been Chicago during the winter, but this was frakin' ridiculous.
He'd already unzipped the vents on his armored jacket to let some air pass through, he'd even lowered the front zipper a couple more inches that he normally wore it. He wasn't stupid enough to go without the jacket though. Not with him being a out-of-town-yankee in this town. Plus the law enforcement tended to frown on him openly carrying the Warhawk that rarely left his side. Even though it was only loaded with Gel rounds. But the heat was now unbearable.
The buzz from the message pulled Patch out of the daze that the muggy heat had put him in while he sat and drank a beer while Marley helped him to tune up the bike. Actually Marley was doing all the work but Patch was providing the beer so it was a fair trade. Patch had just been setting in a lawn chair soaking his feet in an old plastic kiddie pool. The t-shirt and shorts he was wearing was already soggy from the mix of sweat and moisture in the air.
He laughed as Marley busted a knuckle when the wrench the old tool jockey had been using slipped. "I've still got no idea how you deal with the god awful heat man."
He read the message and rolled his eyes. One67 was always trying to impress him for some reason, but mostly it came of as a bit annoying.
He used the wireless DNI link to the comm that was still held in his jeans that was laying across the Troll-adapted couch he used as a bed in his so-called apartment.
<<@One67 [Patch] Gotcha man. Any extra info; dress code, time frame for the job?">>
-
Lizzy looked at the message as she sat back in her chair in the cheap apartment she was renting. The place had been a shit-heap when she had first arrived, and while it was still a shit-heap at least it was a marginally cheaper shit-heap. The day had been pretty uneventful for her. Not that she was complaining, she came here to hide out from the authorities in Tir. Some excersise around the block, although it had been harder than normal with her making sure to take her Crusader II and Armor Jacket with her. No knowing if someone had followed her from Tir, and she didn't want her first knolwedge of it to be getting shot in the back. After that, getting what meager groceries she could afford, being sure to watch out for seafood. Now she was just relaxing in her apartemnt, and then her comn went off.
I told all my friends I'd be in Jacksonville, and I met with Snake yesterday. Who the-? she thought as she checked the Comn. I told Snake I was trying to keep a low profile. Then again, I got to get some sort of work to keep the rent paid. Still, who the hell calls themselves scrub?
<<@Scrub [Lizzy] If your talking straight, then I'll be there.>>
She checked the time on her comn. She had four hours till the meet, and she would spend them well. First she sent a message to Snake
<<@Snake [Lizzy] Got a call from someone claiming you refrenced me for some work. This guy on the level?>>
While she waited for the reply, she started muttering arcane formula as she reached for a guardian spirit, while setting up some candles and putting incense into them as an offering. Her chanting rose in volume as she attempted to call a Guardian spirit she had used before, Tlacelel, and she swayed side from side as she finsihed the ritualistic summoning. Tlacelel was resisting much more than usual, and sweat beaded on her brow from the strain of bringing him in, but she didn't feel light-headed at least, and she was rewarded as a growling jaguar headed humanoid appeared in the astral, a giant figure who was almsot as tall as the apartment. The summoning hadn't been sucsessful as she would have liked, but it was sufficient, and she responded to the Tlacelel's short bow with one in return, a sign of respect.
-
Still used to his former, more corporate, life, Rudy got up early in the morning. It was pleasant for almost an hour after sunrise, which is when he liked to go for a run in the morning. He'd been here in Riverside for a little over a month now and he still had a month left on the rent for the place. The neighborhood used to be reasonably swank, but was starting to get a bit run down. After a month of seeing the diminutive man running almost every morning, the neighborhood had become rather accustomed to the little man. After his run, he'd get cleaned up and fire up the the Soy Processing Unit to make something that at least looked like real food and came reasonably close to approximating the taste. This morning he was following up on some news from Chicago, keeping an eye out for anything that would mean trouble for Center and the old team back home. He misses those guys some days, and others, not so much. After checking on things in Chitown, he decided to see about getting a sprite to keep around for once instead of the ones he compiled over and over.
He sits down and compiles a machine sprite with surprising easy, and then goes on to get it registered. This ends up being quite a struggle. As lunch rolls around, he's busy fighting with code that the Resonance just won't piece together and keeps crashing. Just as Rudy wrestled that part together the rains hit, and distracted him. Two more sections of the code fall apart. The language that comes from his mouth belies the youthful look of his face. Refocusing on the task at hand, and thinking he probably should have just done this while in full VR instead of accepting the distractions of the meat, he starts wrestling with the code and Resonance again. Just as he's about to finish up, his comm goes off with a message from Stunna. Cursing again, he finishes the last of the registration, and finally Tough Guy is an accepted part of the matrix. The sprite is has taken the form of a barbaric orc of massive proportions, but only stands about 15cm tall. He struts around had grins at Short Stuff from AR and puffs up his chest grinning victoriously. <<<Hoi chummer, what can we get into today?>>> Short Stuff grins at the apparation floating in front of him. <<<Oi, not sure yet mate. Looks like we get to throw down with some of the "OJC" crowd and make some money tonight. Lets see how this plays out.>>>
<<<@Stunna [Short Stuff] Oi, sounds like a plan to me. What time are you getting started tonight?>>>
-
<<@Sam [QT] Alright sweetie but you'll have to make it up to me next time since this time is all just business. Should I come to the meet dressed out? Or is there going to be time to grab stuff after the meet?>>
<<@QT [Sam] Sweetie? I aint no "sweetie". Dressed out? Shit girl, you remember the Cave, right? Well, we finna be wilin out even harder tonight. Don't bring nothin you can't leave in the ride, wiz?>>
QT knew that she remembered the place, sorta, but once Sam mentions it by name, she DOES remember the Cave. It's a rooftop of a mostly abandoned building, used by squatters mostly, but on weekends it's often used as a venue for impromptu underground artists, usually goblin punk or goblin rap. What with the circles Sam moves in, you can almost be guaranteed the latter. You also remember Sam stressing to you that NO ONE is armed up there, ever. Including him, his people, and you.
<<@One67 [Patch] Gotcha man. Any extra info; dress code, time frame for the job?">>
<<Patch [One67] You member the spot, right? Don't come dipped in no dryclean only type a shit, wiz? MAD BOMBIN TONIGHT SON!!!>>
You do remember the roof was thick with paint fumes the time you were there before. You also remember a good percentage of the graffiti artists up there were wearing respirators to protect themselves. Last time Patch was there, he was not expecting trouble and didn't come armed. Although things had almost turned violent, he remembers One explaining to him that no one ever brought weapons or even spirits up to that rooftop, out of respect for the culture or some shit like that. It was a while ago, so it's tough to remember, especially considering it didn't quite make sense at the time. You were both pretty high at the time; Patch on adrenaline and One on bliss.
<<@Snake [Lizzy] Got a call from someone claiming you referenced me for some work. This guy on the level?>>
<<@Lizzy [Snake] Local fixer. Kinda paranoid. Uses lots of comms, lots of names, lots of SINs. Squish. Stays in Riverside. Reliable. Annoying. Womanizer. Junkie. Smalltime. Anti-corp.>>>
Snake has always been very "to-the-point". Knowing him, he's probably told this fixer all of these things to his face at some point in the past, or is going to soon. Either way, if Snake vouches for someone, they RARELY turn out to be complete shit.
<<<@Stunna [Short Stuff] Oi, sounds like a plan to me. What time are you getting started tonight?>>>[/color]
<<@Shortstuff [Stunna] I currently survey, murder he who say that I aint bombin walls watchin skyline decay with my people stompin fakes, bombin Caves as we speak, son! MAD CAN CONTROL!>>
Sometimes SixSeven raps at you instead of talking to you. You've figured out that he's more likely to do it when he's in a good mood than a poor one. Whatever you take his response to mean, you can easily infer that it's positive in nature.
-
<<@One67 [Patch] Yeah I remember the spot. I'm still hackin' up a rainbow from all the paint in the air. This time I'll bring a respirator. What time you want me there? I ain't comin' to hang out for the night if we have work. You know I hate leavin' my protection unguarded on the bike. Am I gonna have time to retrieve it? Or is this a job where my healing skills come into use rather than my hurtin' skills?">>
Patch just shook his head, which of course got a strange look from his buddy, Marley. One67 was cool and all but Patch wished the man would talk like a regular person from time to time. All the rap crap got to him. Patch also hoped the rooftop wouldn't be as crowded as it was last time. Too many people seemed to put him on edge anymore. He cracked open the last beer for the day since he had work tonight. He looks at his buddy still wrecnhing on the bike.
"Hey Marley, how much longer this gonna take? I gotta run a couple of errands before some business tonight. looks like I'll have to raincheck on the game tonight."
-
Lizzy sighed as she read the message. Why did half of everybody she worked with have to be some maniac? Still, Snake did recomend him, and she needed to work. Heck, not just for the moeny, if she stayed cooped up here she was going to have an aneurism, especially with the couple next door who had no idea of the word privacy, and the squabiling brats next door. Not to mention the landlord wasn't what she woudl call the nice type, and some snooping had proved that he was in the human organ businesses. She had nothing agiasnt ghouls, or at least she thought she didn't, but she didn't want to end up as one of their lunches. She looked at the message again. She might as well get there a few hours early to scope the place out.
<<Snake [Lizzy] Okay, if he's on the level, I'll go to the meet, thanks for the info.
She got her backpack and wedged her AK-97 inside. It was a tight fit, but better than having the thing open in public. The Crusader II wnt into it's consealed holster inside ehr Armor Jacket, which she made sure was zipped up completely. She wasn't go to die to some Go-Gangers tonight. Making sure that Tlacelel followed her, she locked the apartment door, and walked downstairs. Heading to the public garage, she saw that somebody had messed with her growler. Some idiot had spray-painted some sort of message on it in slang. I realy do not want to go into a meet with that written on my bike she thought, btu she didn't have a way to wash it off, and only a couple hours till the meet. Muttering her disgruntlement with the world, she got on the bike and satarted riding to the meet.
-
QT grinned as Sam bristled from the nickname.
<<@Sam [QT] Gotcha. The Cave. No heat, just a breather and maybe some kick-ass combat boots. I'll be there.>>
Rubbing the last of the sleep out of her eyes, QT goes about getting ready for the meet. Fortunately, packing light is easy. Wild Hunt Jacket, the aforementioned Combat boots, One of the 2066s to keep in the Bike's saddlebags just in case, Extra clip of gel rounds to go with the clip already in the gun, shades, helmet, oh and of course can't forget the ballistic mask in case things go sour.
She gives her things a last once over and locks up her place before hopping onto the Mirage and setting off.
Might as well get there a bit early, see if I can't spot the rest of the gang Sam's trying to match me up with before the meet proper.
-
Rudy changes into his street clothes, and heads for his garage. He grabs his helmet and lined coat, and puts his taser in the cycle's storage compartment. As he opens the garage door and putters out on his little 2 wheeler looking for all the world like a 10 year old stealing his uncles old scooter the door closes and locks behind him. Rudy is the epitome of middle-class wage slave living in the 'burbs on his way to the store. Rudy stops by a diner to grab some food before heading to the Cave.
When he gets to the Cave he notices a few other bikes, mostly Harleys and Suzukis, and puts his little scooter next to them. The juxtiposition of the diminutive man looking for all the world like he belongs on the streets with the fact that he just puttered up on the most mundane two-wheeled vehicle possible would be downright hilarious if not for the fact that Short Stuff just looks like thats the way its supposed to be. There's nothing strange about him being here and if you think otherwise, it's obviously something wrong with you.
He heads into the slum and works his way towards where Stunna/One67 said he'd be.
-
[The Cave, Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 8:30pm 2076]
The music got louder as you rose higher in the stairwell. At first, it was just the thumping bass, penetrating through the layers of concrete to reach your ears, but after a few floors, you could start to hear small melodies from horns, electric guitars, and unknown instruments. By the time you reached the floor beneath, you could make out words, mostly in Or'zet, mostly of a violent and vulgar nature, but always on beat and rhyming well.
There have been people here since about six, but it's only really started to fill up in the last half hour. Most are orks and trolls, but all metas are represented in the crowd to some degree. The focus of the evening seems to be a series of rap battles. It's all only done in Or'zet, so those of you unable to speak it are rather left out of the whole thing, but the beats are really cool. None of you are really sure who's the better rapper, but the rest of the crowd sure seems to be, and they are emphatic about their approval or lack thereof. After every bout, the crowd roars in approval of one contestant or the other and most of the time, the loser is shamed and booed relentlessly, especially if they're a non-ork.
The sun went down about two hours ago and the wind went with it. Now that there's nothing to keep the swamp gas at bay, it has utterly enveloped the city. Even the nicer areas of town aren't immune. The only two places where you can get away from it are indoors with expensive AC, which few elite folks have access to, and on a rooftop higher than about 6 floors up, which luckily, is exactly where this meet is happening. Not only is the smell better up here, but there's a teeny bit of wind, making it two-three degrees cooler up here than it is on street level. That, combined with the fact that no-one up here is armed make it a really relaxing sort of environment. The rooftop is set up with a "beach party" sort of motif, old weathered and faded. Coconuts, tiki torches, surfboards, things like that mark the tiny little bar, manned by one overworked ork bartender serving only beer and bottled water, the DJ booth with it's line of about 4 young men with baggy clothes and expensive commlinks, waiting for their turn on the wheels, and the entrance to the rooftop proper, with its three or four elf women collecting money for admission after people get up the stairs. Everyone pays 10¥ to get in. These ladies don't care who you are or who you know.
Before you got to the roof, you walked up seven flights of stairs and unless you're in good shape, your legs are still killing you from the walk. Smokers and drug users among you are breathing heavily by the time you reach the top. The floors you pass by appear to be an old parking garage, left to rot on the edge of the downtown area, now turned into a squat for about 20-30 families who live here at the moment. As far as squats go, it's not bad and the opportunity minded among you plan to remember this place if things should get rough one day. There was no security whatsoever to search you for weapons, and the elves at the door didn't even ASK if you were packing, but after looking around for a while, you can tell that no one else is either. It's strange. Despite being surrounded by a crowd of young male orks, threatening to shoot one another to the beat of an insanely loud drumbeat, NONE of them have the means to do such a thing at the moment.
One67 is immediately visible as soon as you step out onto the roof. Despite the cheap respirator on his face, he's immediately recognizable as the tallest human in the place, taller even than the shorter orks and elves. From the ground up, he's wearing worn brown fuzzy slippers, white athletic knee socks, a pair of purple basketball shorts that come down below the knees, a green paint stained t-shirt with holes in it and the stitches starting wear out, and of course, the white, paint flecked, disposable respirator. He's got one of those "white-boy-afros" from shaving his head a few months ago and trying to grow it back out, but it's shaved on the sides with a false baldspot shaved into the back, making him look simply ridiculous. His hands are covered in paint of all sorts and he's got a spliff behind one ear. He, along with about 9 other people, of varying metatypes, but mostly ork and dwarf, are painting with old school spray cans on the exposed walls.
No matter what time you arrive, he greets you with a quick hug and a "Chillin chillin chillin yo, chillin!" but won't really stop working on the painting he's busy with until all four of you have showed up, at which point, he takes a short break from his work, circles the rooftop once to gather you all up, then leads you toward the door to the DJ booth. The DJ, a young filipino human kid, turns to look when the door opens and smiles when he sees One. "Whaddup WRIST!" says One before bumping fists with the kid. "Put on that peanut butter mix and give my people some space, wiz?" He then motions for you to enter. He only pokes his head inside to say, "Aightchall all get all acquainted an drek for a lil bit. I'm finna bang out this outline right quick rightchyea' and then pass it off to my man Zane for the ill fill in," through his respirator before closing the door and going back to the wall. Nodding his head, the kid makes a slight motion with his hand and the music begins to change. It stays the same tempo, but it's clearly a different beat now. Once he's got the new beat on and the old one is no more, he nervously avoids eye-contact with the four of you and leaves the booth. Surprisingly, it's really nice in here. There's AC and the music is still playing, but at a reasonable volume. Plus, you can't hear the vocals of the men on stage rapping in here, only the beats. It's a great place to talk.
You may not know much about street graffiti and probably can't read any of the words being written on these walls, regardless of what language they're written in, but you know what an outline is, and from the rate at which this strange, lanky, human fixer is working, you've got about ten minutes or so before he's finished.
-
<<@One67 [Patch] Yeah I remember the spot. I'm still hackin' up a rainbow from all the paint in the air. This time I'll bring a respirator. What time you want me there? I ain't comin' to hang out for the night if we have work. You know I hate leavin' my protection unguarded on the bike. Am I gonna have time to retrieve it? Or is this a job where my healing skills come into use rather than my hurtin' skills?">>
<<@Patch [One67] I aint never hurt nare nadda no body and I aint finna tradda start today, wiz?>>
-
<<@Patch [One67] I aint never hurt nare nadda no body and I aint finna tradda start today, wiz?>>
<<@One67 [Patch] Just makin' sure... No big deal.>>
Patch waits for Marley to finish putting the bike back together and changes into something more appropriate to the meet's venue. He's still got his combat boots from when he was in, those are a must. He decides the heat is just too much for him to be wearing the armored jacket. So instead, he slips into his form-fitting body armor and covers it with a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt that reads "Warrior Up and Quit Your Bitchin'. " in Or'zet.
He shoves his tazer, combat knife and warhawk, as well as, his medkit in the storage compartment of his bike. With everything set he takes off toward the meet, only stopping long enough to pick up a proper mask and respirator if One67 decides that they need to talk while in the middle of creating more artwork. He clips it to his belt in case he needs it in the club.
Once he arrives at the club he can hear the music even from the parking area. Even before he sees the throng of people filling the club that uneasy feeling he got around groups had already started growing in the pit of his stomach. When he couldn't see any one person because they were surrounded by others, it always made him nervous. He quickly found a place off in a corner to get away from the majority of the crowd and waited for One67 to show him where the meet was.
After he made it to the meeting room he relaxes some. He then takes a moment to look over the others that he will be working with soon.
-
QT arrives at the location early, parking her Mirage out of the way. After greeting Sam she simply walks around people watching and waiting for the rest of the people to show up. The music choice really isn't her style of thing but it is interesting to her to watch the crush of metahumanity doing their thing.
She continues her people-watching, blending in with the crowd as best she can until it seems like all the players have arrived, after which she simply slips into the meeting room and looks around at the assembled group.
-
As he approaches the two elves at the entrance on they seem sceptical. Not exactly strict on the age limits in these parts, but as he walks up he just looks like a little boy wearing street clothes and when he speaks it doesn't change any. "Evening ladies, One67 asked me to come by tonight. Said he could use some of my expertise. 10¥ to get in? Here ya go!" Chipper as ever, and he's accustomed to everyone assuming he's just a boy. Wandering around the crowd some of the larger orcs start point and speaking in Or'zet then laughing uproariusly. He just smiles and gives them a friendly wave! He gets his dance on to a couple of the songs, and while not the most graceful on the floor his troll sized personality stuffed into a sub-dwarf sized body makes up for it. Just as he was hitting his social stride, One67 walks up and smiles at the ladies Short Stuff was regaling. Short Stuff gives the ladies his best talk-to-me-later smile and walks off with 67.
Once in the booth his ever-present boyish grin is turned on the three people he doesn't know. "Hoi chummers, they call me Short Stuff. Dunno why, but it stuck and I figured what the heck it's got a nice ring to it. I'm wiz when it comes to the 'trix, if you need access or data, I can hook ya up! How about you guys?"
-
Lizzy moved through the crowds at the place the fixer had set up. She couldn't say she was a big fan of the music, but it could be worse. She slipped into the meetinf room to meet the weird fixer, and she then eyed the rest of the team. "I go by "Lizzy". I work the magic side of things. Just got here from Tir a couple of weeks ago."
-
Patch does a quick once-over of everyone One67 had assembled for the job tonight. He wasn't quite sure what to make of everyone just yet. It did kind of get under his skin that One67 had decided to bring a kid into this kinda work.
"Name's Patch..." He pointed at his boots, "I'm here to put boot to ass. I also play at being a street doc now and then for when you lose a fight."
-
QT nods at each introduction then smiles.
"You can call me 'cutie', most people do. I've got some experience as a P.I., you know stakeouts, investigations, interviews, that sort of thing. Oh and I can handle myself in a fight and may well be the best pistolier you've ever run into."
The last part is spoken quickly with no change of inflection, simply just a listing of skills.
"Nice to meet all of you!"
She smiles again infectiously.
-
Lizzy nodded politely. "No offense QT, but I really hope we don't need to see your pistoling skills in action. Same thing for you Patch. Anyway, anybody dealt with this fixer before, since I'm not local. He's a little...quirky?" Lizzy asked.
-
"Quirky's definitely one way to say it. One's got a good heart though. As for needing to rough someone up?"
QT shrugs philosophically
"If it happens it happens. Deal with it when we get there yeah?"
-
Patch crosses his arms across his chest. "My main job is to make sure the rest of you can come back from the job alive. I'm not some bloodthirsty killing machine. I wasn't kidding about the street doc part, though. I've actually got my fair share of experience in combat medicine, so IF things get hairy then I've got your back." He leans back against the wall returning the smile the others are giving. It just looks more like a snarl on the big orc.
"As to our fixer friend, he's legit enough to get us work."
-
"I've been to a couple of events with him, but never done a run. He enjoys life a bit more than most, but has been honest with me so far. And people I trust trust him from back in Chi-town."
-
Finishing up his part of the ten-foot-high and twenty-foot-wide piece he and his crew have been working on since before any of the team got here, Sam climbs down off his rickety wooden ladder and pulls his respirator up over his hair as he walks back toward the DJ booth. The line of men outside waiting for their turn are visibly irritated. Some pre-recorded mix is playing and they still aint had their chance to spin yet? What the fuck? None of them give voice to their opinions for fear of being excluded altogether as the tall skinny human half-jogs back past them.
The roar of the music from outside slams into your eardrums as he whips the door open and loudly addresses the group. "AYO, TIME TO TALK SOME SHIT, YO!" He motions with his head to follow him before letting go of the door and strolling off into the crowd. The music has somehow gotten louder and the crowd, more animated. It appears the battles on stage have reached the semi-final round. Emotions are running high, on and off stage, whipping the crowd into a manic, frenzied organism made entirely of fists, elbows, horns, and tusks. Headed straight through this crowd seems stupid and a little dangerous, but there's really no way around it at this point in the evening. Everyone receives a minor accidental pummeling of some sort on the way through it and Shortstuff is nearly crushed under a massive troll boot at one point. His quick reflexes grant him only a stomped foot for his efforts, but DAMN did it hurt. [[OOC: everyone soak 4S]] One67 passes through it with no physical contact more than his occasional hand on a shoulder, gently and effortlessly guiding people of all sizes in directions other than his own. Watching him do it reminds you of the old stories of monks who could dodge raindrops.
Passing the elf ladies by the front door, one of them steps out in front of him briefly. She's a little on the heavy side, but wears it well, rocking a blue and cream colored set of high end basketball sweats, matching backwards baseball hat, and expensive looking chain around her neck with a jeweled Jesus piece hanging from the center. She's got black hair, a little too much makeup, a strong chin and low, rounded cheekbones. It's obvious from the way she stands and the "no-nonsense" look on her face that she's pissed even before the harangue begins. "Mawfucker, you aint shit, your rhymes aint shit, that bullshit ass throw-up you and Zane been workin on all day aint shit. It's fuckin semi-finals and you still doin side business?"
SixSeven makes a goofy smirk, rolls his eyes and steps around her on his way to the stairs, leaving the elf to look each of you up and down disparagingly, especially the two women among you. "I know one a yall be slottin him." She whispers with uncensored venom as you pass, just loud enough for you to hear. As the group rounds the first corner on the stairwell going down after One, you can hear her shout, "YOU GOTTA RAP IN TWENTY MINUTES YOU SLACK MOTHERFUCKER!"
One takes the group down one flight of stairs and out into the squatter's area. The place looks empty. No lights or movement at all. For a moment, you wonder what horrible thing was done to move all these people, all these families out of here, until SixSeven speaks, barely audible above the thumping music from above. "We pay a hundred nuyen to each squatter on nights we throw jams. They hate the noise and we don't want em callin the Star, so..." He motions his arm out like a gameshow host, presenting a prize. "Most of em get hotel rooms for the night or go out and get fucked up on dope till the show's done. They'll all be back by tomorrow. But tonight, this our spot, and the noise from upstairs mean as long as we keep usin our inside voices an drek, ain't no nare nadda neva way to record a mug, wiz?" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small green handheld white noise generator; a lower end model available in the household section of most department stores. "But we still gotta be careful, wiz?" He says with a giant grin as he flips it on, releasing the sound of cheaply synthesized waves crashing against a poorly rendered shore.
The group wanders through the empty "streets" that separate the vacant "homes" as One lays down the basics of the job. "Aight, so there's this rat shaman at the beach, like from the beach, wiz? Anyways, My client knows that her and a few other mugs she gathered up are gonna summon a watcher spirit tomorrow round six, jus fore sundown. Alls I need from yall mugs is three things. First, find the spot it's gonna be at. Second, fuck it up. Like, the summoning, y'know? Make sure it dun happen. Now, you aint need to go fuckin it up, like, forever, wiz? You just gotta fuck it up long enough that they aint get a chance to try again till sunrise. Third, don't kill no one." He stops and faces the team, all goofy shit and rapper persona removed from his mannerisms. "I cannot stress this enough. You can't kill no one. If you do, you aint get paid. At all. And if you aint have a damn good reason for why you did, you never work for me again. Am I clear on this point?" He waits until everyone has nodded or responded before sitting down on a folding canvas chair belonging to one of the squatters. He retrieves the spliff behind his ear and lights it before taking a huge hit from it and exhaling a cloud of smoke into the air, filling the space with a strange smell. [[OOC rolls may reveal the smell.]] Spreading his legs wide and leaning back against a plascrete support pillar, he passes the spliff to Shortstuff before saying, "Yall mawfuggers got some questions or sum?"
-
Patch seems to chuckle slightly, "Yeah I got loads of questions but the first one that comes to mind, Geeking the mage doesn't always mean killin'. I am sure one of the others may have a better plan but what about hittin' the shaman with a gel round. Drain can be a pain, but casting once you've been knocked on your ass is just stupid." He shrugs, "That'd give you a day or so before they try it again. You against something like that as a last resort?"
-
"You against something like that as a last resort?"
"My people only had the rules they had. Best be careful though if you're finna go that route, wiz?"
-
As Short Stuff tries to keep up with the other four, he's quickly swallowed by the crowd. With the raucous crowd so much bigger than him, even his armor wasn't able to save him from the worst of it. And while tried to give as good as he got, that was a loosing proposition when he came up to many peoples knees here. Still, he felt it important that he stand tall in the situation, yet as they cleared the crowd he practically squirted out like he contents of a ketchup packet being stepped on. As they passed the ladies at the door they noticed the shiner that was starting to form on his left eye, which resorted in more ribbing from them. He just smiled and took it all in, wearing the soon-to-be black eye like a badge of honor.
Once downstairs, he listened to One's pitch and nodded accordingly. Thanking him when he passed the spliff, taking a hit and handing it backed he asked, "How much does the job pay if we don't kill anyone and still disrupt the summons?"
-
Taking a hit and handing it backed he asked, "How much does the job pay if we don't kill anyone and still disrupt the summons?"
One holds his hand up, denying the return and motioning for you to circle it around the room. "Five stacks a head."
-
"Seems simple enough. Anything special about the targets that may come up in the job?" Lizzy said. She had managed to struggle through the crowds, her armor absorbing most of the blows the crowd threw out.
-
"Seems simple enough. Anything special about the targets that may come up in the job?"
"Special, like how?"
-
"Any special qualities, anything that could make taking them down harder. What tradition is the shaman, and his typical kind of magic, what the other members do. If the client knows where there going to be, what time, and what they are doing, i'm assuming he also told you about the group. Also, what's the are ther summoning is taking place in like?Are we going to be able to pull this off in the open, or do we need to worry about security jumping us if we act to openly?" Lizzy said.
-
"Any special qualities, anything that could make taking them down harder. What tradition is the shaman, and his typical kind of magic, what the other members do. If the client knows where there going to be, what time, and what they are doing, i'm assuming he also told you about the group. Also, what's the are ther summoning is taking place in like?Are we going to be able to pull this off in the open, or do we need to worry about security jumping us if we act to openly?" Lizzy said.
One gives you a look of disappointed confusion "Aint you listenin? She's a RAT shaman and the client DOESN'T know where the ritual is going down, otherwise your first job wouldn't be to figure that out. You sure you got your head in the right place for this, girl?" He takes a look around at everyone else like "The hell?"
-
"So, Rat shaman, from the beach, disrupt but no killing. Got any description or name for the finger sparkler or should I just look for someone with shifty eyes and work it out from there?"
-
"So, Rat shaman, from the beach, disrupt but no killing. Got any description or name for the finger sparkler or should I just look for someone with shifty eyes and work it out from there?"
One smiles at you, a big goofy grin as Shortstuff passes you the spliff. "Yeah, actually. Name's Twiss. Crazy wild woman type a vibe. Ballheaded dwarf chick in her thirties. I hear she done got herself some kinda apprentice or some shit bout a year or so ago, so ole boy probly gon be there too." He turns his attention back to Lizzy an continues. "Far as her crew, it aint that deep since she aint really good company to keep, so the rest them mugs is probably some hired help. If you can find the fixer she hired em through, you might could learn more about em, but I dunno."
He watches with a raised eyebrow to see if either of you hit it.
-
Patch watches the spiff being passed around and motions it past him. He returns One's raised eyebrow with his own You know me better look.
"This Crazy Rat woman got a place she likes to hang? Maybe somewhere we can pick up her trail." He looks to the others, "If she's really from the beach, she ain't gonna go anywhere else besides that neighborhood to perform the ritual. It definitely makes things easier in narrowing the location down."
-
QT waves the spiff on as well…
You know I don't toke if I'm going to be working Sam
"True, I think we may have most of what we can get without having to do our own legwork… Unless anyone else can think of something?"
-
"This Crazy Rat woman got a place she likes to hang? Maybe somewhere we can pick up her trail." He looks to the others, "If she's really from the beach, she ain't gonna go anywhere else besides that neighborhood to perform the ritual. It definitely makes things easier in narrowing the location down."
"Hmmmm..." One rubs one hand down the stubble on his cheek as he hits the spliff again. "I don't think she really does much hangin out, but I hear her boy gets into some ski-ball. Only two, three spots left at the beach with ski-ball anymore. I aint know his name though, just that he's younger than her and he's flip."
-
"Well that's a good place to start as any."
QT glances around at the rest of the team.
"We can pull up addresses and look around for a filipino kid who's hitting up the ski-ball and figure it out from there yeah?
-
"We can pull up addresses and look around for a filipino kid who's hitting up the ski-ball and figure it out from there yeah?
"WORD!" says One as he finishes off the last little bit of the spliff and stands up, stomping its burning embers under the bottom of his slipper. "Aight, now I'm finna go back up top an show these mugs what the fuck is really really good up in this piece, yaMEAN?!" the final syllable echoing through the empty space. "Yall can chill here and party and shit if ya want. Otherwise, I'll holler atcha come sunrise day afta morrow, yall can come through, get that jing, wiz?" Noticing the stunned and loopy look on Shortstuffs face, he chuckles and says, "I forgot you got such a fast metabolism and things, yo. Little hits next time, wiz? F'real, you good?" He pounds fists with each of you before headed back upstairs.
-
Short Stuff is obviously blotto. Seems like it's possible the gnome missed out on his dwarven heritage of durability between the light bruising he took and the straight to the head hit from One67's spliff. With his head bobbing a bit and a goofy grin replacing his perpetually friendly one, he looks up and says "More than good omae! I'll find that place!" while pulling up countless AR windows. As he's going through local social media and advertisments he quickly finds the Arcade. Effortlessly snatching the rest of the team's comm codes while creating an AR object with the location and relavent information, he sends them all the object... along with about a dozen trideo objects of paracritters doing ridiculously adorable things.
<<<
@Team [SS] Here ya go chummers, easy as cake!
. openMEnow.trid
. cutestEVAR.trid
. Arcade_location.AR
. paraCritTErsRsoCUte.trid
. owners_critter_in_tree_wont_believe_what_happens_next.trid
>>>
The gnome is obviously looking at multiple trids at once and starts laughing uncrontrollably, rolling back and forth on the squatters couch they were on. It seems like he's set for the next 15-20 minutes or so.
-
QT pulls her commlink out as it beeps and quickly flips past the vid files with a smirk to look at the address being sent.
"Well that answers that question. I want to follow up on this lead, anyone coming with? Or have better ideas?"
-
"I got a talismonger friend, even if she's a recluse he mayhave dealt with her. Next bit I'll have to have someone watch my meat-body. I can astrally check the place for the two, maybe assign a spirit to watch them and keep track of them, but I'm not going to do it and have somebody rifle or steal my uncounciouss body. So does anybody have a place where we want to set up?" While she waits for a reply Lizzy open up her comn and sends a message to Jokan.
>>To: Jokan
I got the job. Do you know anything about a bald female dwarven rat shaman named Twiss, extremely anti-social? Or how about a fillipino mage running around, likes Ski-Ball?
After she sends the message Lizzy made sure the rest of the group was paying attention. "Anybody have any ideas how they want to hold this down. We don't know the spot yet, I know that, but we might as well starting listing our options. One thing though, this is going to have to be completely in our control. Things starting getting chaotic in there, someone liable to end up dead, and even if it's the targets we don't get paid. "
-
>>To: Jokan
I got the job. Do you know anything about a bald female dwarven rat shaman named Twiss, extremely anti-social? Or how about a fillipino mage running around, likes Ski-Ball?
<<@Lizzy [Jokan] The dwarf yes, the ski-ball no.>>
-
When Patch checks on Rudy, the gnome smiles up at him and for no good reason responds to the large ork in German. "Hoi chummer. Was ist los? Wir werden eine gut Zeit, ja?" What's up? We're having a good time yeah? while giving him a big goofy grin. The gnome is obviously enjoying himself while playing in AR.
As the effects of the Zen wearing off, Rudy fires off a few more matrix searches. Now that he's got everyone comm code, he does another group message. <<<@Team [Short Stuff] I can cover wireless security if you'd like, just slave to device ID 7A739S362AGU682 and I can keep your gear safe. Not much out there about Twiss, but what little there is says she's a 'good' person, but a crappy negotiator. Maybe we can talk her into standing down for a day? As for the fixer, might have a lead in a guy that goes by the name 'Set-Up' possible real name of Randy. He's down on the beach here <AR location link>. I'm happy to ride with QT and anyone else to go check out the arcade. We've a few options for anyone that doesn't want to ride down to the beach.>>>
-
Patch gives the gnome a quick once over just to make sure he isn't going to have to worry about an overdose.
He grunts and responds, "Sie müssen nicht das Körpergewicht und Medikamentendosierung zu verstehen?" (Translation: You don't understand body weight and drug dosage?)
Patch sits on the couch next to the dwarf and turns to the others. "So when are we headed out to the beach? I know a little about the area but not much since I've only been a short time."
-
"Es was gut Scheiße! I habe keine Probleme sehen!"
Translation: It was good shit! I don't see any problems!
As he continues to do the searches on Twiss and any possible fixers he starts to curl up into a small ball on the couch. His hands moving almost rhythmically through AR windows as he scans things and dismisses others, or he stoned out of his gord an thinks he's a cat. You each have your doubts until about 30 minutes later when you receive a very coherent message from the gnome explaining what he's been doing.
-
QT looks a little nonplussed at the sudden exchange in German before giving herself a slight shake.
"I'm good to head out whenever. I'm pretty sure I know the way there. We all going?
-
Patch stands up and looks at the others, "I'm good to go. I'd definitely like to check out the ski ball place. Maybe we can find the lead we need."
-
[Intracoastal Bridge, Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 9:38pm 2076]
Traffic hasn't really gotten shitty until this point, but it's almost ten on a saturday night, and every "bro" in the city and his chummers are headed out to the beach to show off their freshly washed cars. With no traffic, you're about seven minutes from the ocean, but at this rate, it might take another fourty-five, not including parking. Beach Blvd looks like a parking lot and the people (dudes mostly) who currently share the road with you have unanimously decided to start the party now. Vehicles are only going about two car lengths every five minutes or so, so people have started getting out, leaving the doors and trunks open to blast all manner of music from. They hang out in groups on the side of the road smoking, drinking, dancing, and partying like crazy while the dog-brains in their cars keep things moving ahead at a snails pace. Now, according to their page on the matrix, this arcade most of you are headed for stays open until eleven, but it also hasn't been updated in three years, so take that for what it's worth. Snake's place "officially" closes at 6pm, but Lizzy knows that he's always open for her, so there's no rush there. Yall, being on bikes of one form or another DO have the ability to skate through traffic a lot more quickly than the law allows, but there are of course, multiple forms of risk involved.
-
As the crowd starts to pick up, Patch is obviously getting annoyed at the slow traffic. His reaction is subtle but most can probably pick up on it. He's fidgeting, over revving his bike every now and then. Clearly he wants traffic to actually move.
He throws up a couple of ARO's to highlight the traffic cameras high up on the poles.
<<@Team (Patch} Think you can do anything about those cameras so we can move a little faster without alerting the cops?
-
Liz hoped on her bike as soon as she was done at the meet, and rode with the others to the beach area. Weaving in and out of traffic as they traveled along she watched out for the intersection to Snake's shop.
-
They rode in a group, and Short Stuff was just lovin' it. His little scoot surrounded by a bunch of badass runners all on thier big bikes, making lots of noise. His Sprite flitting from bike to bike make little tweaks here and there to improve efficiency or get a little bit of extra power here and there. As they get to the causeway traffic comes to a sudden halt, much to the dismay the group.
He throws up a couple of ARO's to highlight the traffic cameras high up on the poles.
<<@Team (Patch} Think you can do anything about those cameras so we can move a little faster without alerting the cops?
<<@Team [SS] I got this.>> And he quickly throws a mark on each and sets them to loop. As soon as the loop kicks off, he immediately starts lanesplitting. Going from the 1 kph all the way up to 15kph! And then he watches Patch race past him in the other lane and laughs, swearving between to cars that foolishly left enough space to swing in behind the large Orc. Their behaviour causes a variety of reactions from the crowd. Everything from cheers and whoops of laughter to angry teens throwing bottles at them as they drive past to people just shaking their head in dismay. Short Stuff just soaks it all up, he can't get enough. The wind in his hair, the swearving around stopped vehicles and kids partying on the Causeway. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, they've made their way to the beach.
-
When Shortstuff deals with the camera's and starts to cut through the traffic, Patch is quick to follow. The acceleration on his crotch rocket allows him to quickly outmaneuver the diminutive gnome.
@Team (Patch) Let's see if we can get to the beach in time to catch a lead.
-
QT laughs to herself at the unlikely sight of the little man on the Dodge-Scoot weaving through traffic before she kicks her own Mirage into gear. Her sudden acceleration and maneuvering verges on the unsafe as she weaves in and out of the crawling traffic. She overtakes Patch quickly and as she passes you'd swear that she was going smash into a car before a delicate adjustment has her swerve by, not even brushing the vehicle.
<<@Team [QT]: Last one there buys the drinks!>>
-
<<@Team (Patch) How much money you got little man? LOL
Patch chuckles as he dodges an open door. He flips another off as he passes the screaming drunk.
-
<<@Team [Short Stuff] You guys might be bigger, but I fit through traffic better! <sound of maniacal laughter plays in your audio devices> >>
While not a great rider, Rudy is getting really lucky with his path choices. While the girls pull ahead, he manages to just keep in front of the giant orc. Must be the weight difference that keeps him competitive.
-
<<@Team[Lizzy] I'm going to be splitting with you guys at the beach. One of my contacts has some inormation on the mark. I'll meet up with you guys at the beach area. So no offloading drink responsibility off on me>>
Lizzy laughed as she whizzed through traffic. She'd spent so long in the hotel she had forgotten how good racing through the streets could be, heck, any sort of adrenaline rush. Definitely somthing she hadn't gotten to enjoy in the good way while she was with Ares.
-
[The Boardwalk, Jacksonville, CAS. April 12th, 10:09pm 2076]
@Saithor
Snake lives in a garage apt behind the converted beach-house he uses as the retail space for his shop. It's a tiny little place that the giant of a man looks like he barely squeezes into. You knocked on the door to the shop for a minute, then eventually to the door to the garage on the ground floor. Eventually, you became irritated and headed up the warped and rickety wooden stairs to the door on the second floor. After you'd made the fist, but before you managed a knock, you heard his gruff voice from inside. "Come on in, Lizzy!"
After letting yourself in the flimsy wooden door and shaking hands with your old friend, he lights up a cigar and pours two shots of synth-whiskey, offering you one with a smirk through the cigar smoke. He sits down in a giant love seat, filling both cushions and motions for you to do the same on a long thin couch. He raises his glass to you, downs it, and says. "So... Twiss?"
@Everyone else
Parking would have been rough if you'd come in a car. You barely managed to find motorcycle parking and even that was about two miles up the beach from where you need to be. The walk was relaxing though. A straight walk north up 3rd street in the midst of a "car-party" much like the one on the bridge, only far more severe, has almost been fun. Every drunken party dude and chick from every income level is out here strutting their stuff and the cacophony of sound is simply mind-blowing. There are several bars and clubs you could pay to go inside, but the party out here seems so intense you really can't see the need to.
Security is everywhere. There are two riot armored KE cops in every single corner big enough to have a stop sign as well as half the ones that aren't. You see the occasional scuffle break out between a couple drunks here and there, but the boys in black keep a tight reign on things, and nothing gets any more out of hand than that.
It's only taken you about fifteen minutes to walk the short distance north, then east a couple blocks to the boardwalk, and you find yourself at the entrance to the "BEACHFRONT ARCADE". The name is both painted in red letters on the outside as well as lit up brightly in an ARO. The place is packed. About half the games in here are modern VR games equipped with trodes, while the other half of the place is split between old-school "joystick and button" games and even older school "manual games". They've got air hockey, bumper pool, whack-a-mole, pinball, and yes, ski-ball. Of the three lanes available, only one is currently occupied, and it is by a small orkish child who hasn't yet mastered the manual dexterity to roll the ball correctly. His proud mother looks on with commlink in hand, taking picture after picture.
Near the rear of the arcade is a long counter full of cheap plastic crap for kids and drunk dudes to buy with tickets. A thin, balding, white human sits behind it, smoking a cigarette and watching a hyper-violent action trid.
-
[QT, The Boardwalk, Jacksonville, CAS. April 12, 10:09 2076]
QT steps forwards as the team reaches the Arcade and subvocalizes a message to the team:
<<"Alright I'll see if I can't get anything out of the employee over there. You guys take a look around and see if you can see anyone who meets the description of our Filipino friend...">>
As QT steps inside the Arcade she takes the zipper for her Ares Victory Urban Jacket down about halfway showing off the top half of the tank top she's wearing under it and makes her way over to the back counter. She drops her elbows onto the counter and leans forward ostensibly to get a better view of the trid playing
"Hey is that the newest Karl Kombatmage? I thought the action sequences were pretty wiz, but the last Sukie Redflower had way better story."
-
"Current mark for the job your friend Onesixseven sent my way. Not killing or kidnapping, just keeping her from summoning a watcher spirit. in fact, killing or hurting anybody is agaisnt the contract itself." Lizzy said. She wished she could say that she was grateful she wouldn't have to hurt anyone and in a way she was, but nowhere ear as much as she had been in a past. A lot had happened to that naive girl who took up Ares' offer for a good education. "You have any idea where any of her or her associate's are? I won't let them know who sold them out."
-
Short Stuff works his way over to the Ski Ball machines and slots his credstick when he gets a turn. It's obvious he's horrible at it, but he is just having a blast. He fits in well with his street clothes and pre-pubescent appearance. He starts chatting up the other players asking for tips. Someone who knew better would think he was buttering them up for info, but he was actually just really having a good time!
To put crunch to his fitting in: Fitting in at the Ski Ball (Cha 3 + Eti 5 = 8) (http://orokos.com/roll/269581): 8d6t5 4
-
"Hey is that the newest Karl Kombatmage? I thought the action sequences were pretty wiz, but the last Sukie Redflower had way better story."
Only glancing down at the "counter" for a moment, the man's eyes shift to yours with an enthusiastic gleam in them. "Yeah, Yeah! Chip truth, girl! They can't all be Sukie though, wiz? If they were..." He swivels his chair to face you better while putting out his cigarette, and in so doing, manages to check you out again. "If they were, we wouldn't appreciate the ones that are, right?" He's clearly putting his best moves on you, and they aren't that great. You can see the upside down image of a 50 year old arcade game reflected in his baldspot.
At first, the orkish mother is a bit taken aback when Shortstuff walks up, plunks a token into the machine and begins helping her child with his technique. But it only takes a moment for her to recognize the genuine joy in her toddler's face at being helped out by a grown up who's even smaller than he is. Within a few games, the child's skill is improving and Shortstuff is able to steer the conversation with his friendly mother in any direction he wishes.
"Current mark for the job your friend Onesixseven sent my way. Not killing or kidnapping, just keeping her from summoning a watcher spirit. in fact, killing or hurting anybody is against the contract itself. You have any idea where any of her or her associate's are? I won't let them know who sold them out."
Snake takes a long, slow drag off his cigar, filling the air with a cloud the size only troll lungs could make with that thoughtful look on his face. He's weighing options. Doing math. Trying to predict the future based on remembered trends from the past. He lets your words and the smoke hang in the air together for a prolonged moment before raising the stogie to his lips again, but just before he inhales this time, he speaks. "Fifteen percent." He's got the closest thing to an actual smile as he ever gets on his lips as he inhales once more, patiently waiting for your response.
-
"Let me check with y team first. Some of them might not like that much coming out of their pay check. If it is fifteen, you only get the fifteen if the information is good." Said Liz as she she quickly sent a message through her comb.
>>To: All
>>From: Lizzy
>>I've got a possible lead on Twiss' location. Informant wants 15%. What's the maximum you guys are willing to accept?
Some people might consider it cowardly and weak-willed of Lizzy to check with her team first before negotiating, but she didn't know these people as well as she did the folks back at Tir, and didn't want to make some new enemies jsut because she didn't understand the locals.
-
"Let me check with y team first. Some of them might not like that much coming out of their pay check. If it is fifteen, you only get the fifteen if the information is good." Said Liz
Before you can get the comm out, Snake interrupts you. "Naw. Just your cut."
-
"How kind of you." Lizzy said sarcastically "15% it is"
-
Happy with the way "negotiations" had gone, he leans back in his chair a bit and stretches his broad shoulders some, leaving the cigar in his mouth as he does. "Twiss has been building a lodge under the pier; a strong one. Her and her apprentice. Working fast. Been buying supplies from me." He smiles as he watches you think about what "under the pier" means.
Gimme an area knowledge, Jacksonville roll, eh?
The cigar is growing short quicker than it should. Snake always smokes human sized cigars instead of those more appropriate to the size of his lungs and fingers, so they have a tendency to do that. As he sits in down in the ashtray, he leans forward toward you. "Now Lizzy, she knows someone is coming to stop her. She's hired muscle you know? Not much. Not high price. Still. Thought you should know."
-
"Thanks Snake" Lizzy lef the store and sent off a comn message before leaving. She had no idea what the geogrpahy of this place was, she had only been here for a few weeks, and she wasn't that good at maps anyway.
>>To:All
>>My contact cay's that Twiss and her apprentices have set up their lodge underneath the Pier. Anybody know what that is? Also, apparently Twiss has hired some muscle.
-
Short Stuff starts chatting more with the mother, and asks about some of the other players. He says he's got an old Phillipino friend that probably comes here often, asks if she's seen anyone like him around? He'd really like to get back in touch with him. All the while he's really digging playing ski-ball. From 5 meters away you'd never know it wasn't a pre-teen just having the time of his life playing an old fashioned arcade game.
-
QT - Arcade Talking to man with a shiny baldspot on his head.
"Of course not." QT Replies shaking her head. "Of course there are some games I've never been that able to do either, Like that one with the balls in the holes. Give me a light gun game any time, or perhaps some bumper cars. Though I did hear there was some wiz around here who loves putting balls in holes."
-
>>To:All
>>My contact cay's that Twiss and her apprentices have set up their lodge underneath the Pier. Anybody know what that is? Also, apparently Twiss has hired some muscle.
Patch sits back and keeps an eye on the others. When he gets the comm message he thinks for a moment then replies.
>>To: All -
>>Probably means the Jacksonville Beach Pier, it's an old tourist spot turned squalor hole for about 1000 or so. <<