[Number 2]

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

- Robert Frost

Volristodad, 2076

Some call it home, some call it Hell. Welcome to Volristodad, Russia. Not much here besides ice and snow. That, and the armed patrols in the streets. Ares Macrotechnology controls the entire 10,000 strong city. Well, more like owns the city. Those mugs you drink from? Look at the bottom and there's a 98% chance it says Ares. The gun stores you go to? Check out that collection of Ares Alphas, Ares Predators, Ares Lightfires, Ares Crusaders, Ares HVARs, and the popular Ares Arctic Strikes. Get the point I'm making? The HQ itself is located to the south of the city, where armed guards and APCs patrol the streets. Half, if not more of the Russian population works for the megacorp, and the others are left running small business and the snow plows. Why would a AAA Megacorp. want this place anyways? One word, resources. The city was built unknowingly on a huge deposit of raw metals and precious minerals. As soon as the greedy nose of Ares caught wind (And it is windy in Volristodad), they immediately set up shop.

Geographical information:
Volristodad is about 1,250 miles from the North pole, in the northern-middle of Siberia. In the Winter, temperatures of -50 degrees Celsius aren't uncommon (Thats -58 Fahrenheit for you Americans). In the summer, temperatures climb to a balmy -30 Celsius (Again, -22 Fahrenheit). The city is a huge industrial city with multiple factories and, in the distance, mining rigs. There are also a lot of bars in Volristodad. There are only about 2 legal gun shops in the city and, you guessed it, are run by Ares. If you want to take the time, you can find a fence in the city who has the "Exotic weapons", although most of them are old AK-97s.

Other information: The city is built largely on technology, so much so that the people that live in it have become indoctrinated to it. Even more so, Magicians, even aspected magicians, are highly frowned upon in the city and in some cases even targeted by street gangs. One street gang in particular, The 'Borgs, have it in for anybody who practices magic. Most of them are heavily augmented, and its a commonly known fact that most of them have one, if not more cyber limbs. They only control one neighborhood, but they're always itching to get more territory. Ares tends to leave them alone for the most part because they're one of the bigger spenders.

Right now, you are in "Alexei's bar", a small dive bar. It's one of the bars in Volristodad that Ares sec forces rarely go in. The owner, a weedy Russian who goes by the name "Alexei", is normally at the bar polishing glasses with a dirty-looking rag.  Why are you in the bar? What are you doing?   

OOC Thread http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?board=17.0

[martinchaen]

Marcus shuffled into the Alexei's through the front door, tapping the snow off of the boots covering his heavily reinforced chrome feet. He'd eschewed the cold suit today, as he was just walking around town anyway, and his heavy longcoat provided adequate insulation for the few pieces of him that was still meat.

"Guess I should be glad my folks pulled those strings after the events in Alaska back in '67," he thought to himself. "At least my damned hands and feet don't get cold no more." He flexed his artificial fingers, still marveling at how real they felt after all these years. As the heat inside the bar turned his goggles slightly misty he removed his helmet, goggles, and respirator, and felt the latex face mask covering his face shift slightly. With a practiced motion he adjusted the mask and hoped it would stay in place; something about this mold was a little off, but it would have to do for now.

"Man this place is a shithole," he mused as he walked into the cramped bar, surveying the patrons, scanning for trouble. "But hey, the synthahol isn't bad, and sometimes there's even real vodka."

The tall man opened up his longcoat as he walked to the bar, making sure that everyone had an opportunity to see the large-bore Ruger holstered on his right hip and the sheated katana secured to the belt on his left side. "Can't be too careful," he reminded himself as he ran through basic diagnostics on the light pistol mounted in his left cyberarm while sitting down at the bar, the helmet down on the counter, covering up the respirator and goggles. As the Russian bartender approached, he nodded in greeting.

"One of those days, Alexei; what you got back there today?" he asked, his heavily accented Russian clearly labeling him a foreigner. He'd tried real hard to learn the language, but there was just something guttural about the native tongue of Mother Russia that made it almost impossible for an average American like himself to speak it well.

He cringed at some of the prices the bartender rattled off, and looked around once more. He'd been working as a bounty hunter for for the better part of four years now, and his last commission had taken him to Siberia returning some runaway to Volristodad for Anatoly Ireshkova, his contact in the Russian Vory v Zakone. He'd spent most of the payday restocking some of his gear in the corporate-owned town, and had even gotten his hands on a ruggedized Ares Alpha complete with grenade launcher and an easy breakdown system. He placed his hands on his thighs, secure in the knowledge that in less than 15 seconds he could remove and assemble the individual parts from the smuggling compartments in his legs and have the weapon ready to fire.

As always, however, money was getting tight, and here he was, looking for work once more. Maybe Alexei would know of someone who needed muscle; if not, he could always check in with Anatoly again. Talking wasn't his strong suite, however, so he'd have to work this conversation carefully. "Beggars can't be choosers," he thought to himself as he settled in for a conversation.

[Triskavanski]

One man was already in the back of the bar in a corner, watching the rest of the bar. Vladmire sat drinking water from a vodka bottle, to avoid intoxication while at the same time appearing to have the possibility of being inebriated. Of course he wasn't going actually attempt to put on any sort of act, as he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

His appearance did all of that for him, looking like a cross between a man and a wolf, or fox, or rabbit. It was rather hard to tell, truthfully, but it was painfully obvious that he was a changeling, and he was wearing some pretty heavy gear at that too.

While most in the bar were wearing cold suits, he was wearing an ares arctic forces suit, with most of the symbols removed and or covered up with white or grey bands.

Talking through a sub-vocal microphone in russian, "K-Nine, begin scan" he remarked, as a cheerful voice chirped back through the matrix "Affirmative! Beginning facial recognition scan."

The voice though the matrix belonging to a husky beside him, wearing a coat over itself, to insulate it from the shear cold out side. While it looked like it was flesh on the outside, inside whirled mechanical parts, its ears twitching realistically as its eyes scanned the bar, reading faces and comparing them to its internal databanks.

[Csjarrat]

Feathers unclipped his skis and put them into the rack on the outside of the building, glimpsing the warmth and a few of the clientèle through the frosted up windows.
It had been another unfruitful day of job hunting, the Ares recruitment station had been a total waste of time, no jobs! He got the impression that even if there had have been, that stuck up prick wouldn't have interviewed him anyway. Time for a vodka and hopefully something better to eat than dried rations.
He pushed his way through the heavy oaken door, immediately feeling the comparative warmth of the inside relieve the icy tendrils hitting his exposed flesh.
He took off his jacket and sidled up to the bar, feeling the colour returning to his cheeks.
Vodka please, do you do food? 
As the bartender saw to the order he took a seat at the bar and had a look around for any friendly faces. Not seeing any, he returns to his own thoughts, calling up the news feed on his AR overlay to find out the day's events.

[Number 2]

As you walk in, Marcus, and flash your ruger, you can notice the attention of two trolls sitting in a corner booth. They don't seem too pleased at your "Tough guy act". Even worse, they appear to be very large, and one of them sets a large iron club on the table. Alexei gives you a look, but business is business and he lists prices. After a minute of still looking at Marcus, he leans in and says, "Look foreigner, Alexei has been around long enough to know when somebody wants something. Are you going to say it or what?"

Vladmire, your facial scan doesn't bring up too many hits. Most of the patrons in the bar have their faces covered. However, your facial scan does bring up some interesting details. There appears to be two Borgs at a table, talking with what appears to be two members of Ares sec forces. There are multiple things amiss here from what you know. First of all, the Borgs are out of their territory which is something they rarely do. Secondly, Ares sec forces aren't known for going into seedy bars like this one. What you understand from being here, is that there's a tense relationship between Ares and the Borgs. Seeing them like this immediately sets off alarm bells.

Alexei is temporarily distracted from you, Marcus, as he tends to a man who just walked in. Alexei is gone for a moment in the back and returns to you. Feathers, Alexei returns to you with a bowl of borsch and sets a glass of Vodka on the bar. The news feed is most of the same old same old. There does, however, appear to be more gang-related violence in the city. The Vory fighting the Borgs, Ares stepping in, so on and so forth.

[Triskavanski]

Vladmire grits his teeth together, as he recognizes two of his enemies. The Borg.

"Borg Identified,  Master. Shall we begin preparations for their celebration?

Scratching into the table, he looks around some more. This environment wasn't conductive to his typical tactics, But he wasn't about to let them leave without giving them a little more metal for their bodies. Glancing to the door, and towards the window, he began to work on figuring out the proper sniping points into the building, or onto the building's grounds.

[Number 2]

Vladmire, you can see a couple of tall residential buildings across the street from the bar. If you were to get on the second or third level, you would have a nice vantage point to fire from.

[Csjarrat]

Feathers leaves the article half read and tucks into his borsch. It wasn't the best he'd had but it was great to have some warm food in his gut after a long day of fruitlessly job hunting.
He took a quick look around as he paused to sip his vodka. Something about the mood of the place had changed around him whilst he was eating.
Seeing the heavyset iron club present on the table and the well-metalled owner eyeballing one of the other patrons, Feathers decided it was best to keep his down and finish his food quickly. Last thing he needed now was to get into a brawl.

[martinchaen]

Marcus made sure to keep an eye on the two trolls that had seemed to react adversely to his entrance, and made an effort to listen in on whatever conversation they were having while chitchatting with the bartender.

After the Russian served on of the other patrons some borsch, he concentrated at the man in front of him and got down to business.

"Straight shooter, huh, chummer? he said as he looked the other man straight in the eye, holding his gaze as he continued. "All right, here's the deal. I'm looking for work, and a friend of mine pointed me in your direction. Said you might know people in need of someone of my qualities, or people who know other people who... well, you get the idea. Someone who might need someone else found, or returned, or... well, let's just say dealt with. Might be a finder's fee in it for you if would be able to facilitate something..."

He left the potential of easy money in the air, hoping it would be enough to convince the man to talk business with an almost complete stranger.

[Number 2]

You don't hear the trolls saying anything. Your best guess is that they're bar security. Alexei gazes at you, Marcus, for a minute before saying, "If you take a left out of here and go down the street there is an innocuous building. Plain grey, no windows. Go inside and ask them this, "Do you need any repairs done." They will ask you what company you work for. Tell them that you work for Alexei. They may have some work for somebody of your... Certain appearance."

[Isane]

At the far end of the bar, practically forgotten, Anechka sits alone.  This wasn't by choice, as she'd be more than happy to socialize with anyone that cared to bother, but who would want to go and talk to the elf woman reading a book and nursing a mug of soykaf?  And not a holo-book or something on the screen of a commlink, but an honest-to-god paper operational manual for the Russian T-90 main battle tank.  A questionable source of reading material, but a girl had to have her hobbies.

It's not like she wanted to be sitting here awkwardly, but Rusalka had to call off their outing today.  There was no shortage of work for a mechanic in this town, as any equipment that wasn't properly protected often succumbed quickly to the bitter cold.  The reliable source of rent payments was nice, but it left very little time for them to be together.  'Such is life...'

She looks up as a large man enters the bar, and catches a glance at the weaponry he displays under his coat.  'We get it, you're a badass.'  She smiles inwardly, wonder just what someone expected to do with a sword.  She wouldn't be caught dead in a fight that close, not with plethora of drones she has hidden in the back of her SUV parked safely down the road outside, and the Stormcloud she has hovering hundreds of feet in the air.  Turning back to her reading, she doesn't even look up again as another person enters the bar and orders a vodka at the counter.

[Triskavanski]

Vladmire takes note of the one augmented flashing his gear, but he didn't pull any hits on his drone's recognition software. Just as well, the two born talking the ares would be more than enough. While he has a vendetta against them, it wasn't a suicidal vendetta.

Slowly he raises his mask and hood over his head, as he begins to walk to the front of the bar, so he could get out and to the positions he could snipe them at. Tapping the side of his leg, the drone stands up, walking after him.

Step 1: Get outside
Step 2: Get to the SUV, and acquire the rifle
Step 3: Get to the proper locations, and prepare to snipe the targets.

He thought to himself, focusing on his task at hand. If he could take them out, the parts could possibly sell to someone, not to mention he might be able to find some members of the magic community who could pay him for taking out these borg. Ah, work and pleasure, blended together with survival. Maybe next time he could have real vodka next time.

[Number 2]

As you walk out, Vladmire, you accidentally bump into a couple of big guys. You don't know who they are, as they are wearing cold suits. You are however, painfully aware that they both have cybernetic hands not covered with gloves. You know this because one of them attempts to push you aside while saying, "Out of my way freak."

[Triskavanski]

Vladmire growls lightly at the shove, his face covered as he sneers at the robotman. The changeling continues on his way, not attempting to make more of a scene, as its not his style to do so.

His gloved hands flex, as he continues trying to walk out, "K-Nine, Acquire their scent." he pings the husky looking drone with a message, as it sniffs the air, a little before following after Vladmire out the door.

Adding two more on the list, possible Borg. I'm going to need a bigger rifle if this keeps up.

[Number 2]

The two borgs push their way past Vladimire into the bar, heading towards the table with the Ares sec forces.