Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Aria on <09-05-14/0746:36>
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[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Outskirts of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
An unseasonably warm summer has sloped into a sultry autumn laced with storms that have lit up the night sky with spectacular pyrotechnics, particularly across the ash wastes of Puyallup where the air is charged with anticipation. Now you are heading into the blustery wind coming off Hell’s Kitchen to try and pick up the 161 that will take you north to the outskirts of the barrens and where you get to pick up your pay cheque.
Everyone but the most obtuse runner has heard of the so called Circus of Shadows, although they’ve not been to Seattle in a while they always cause a stir when they do arrive. They have a reputation for appearing unannounced, staying for a random period of time and then disappearing back into the shadows to resurface on the other side of the continent, or possibly the world, sometime later. They are renowned for only ever performing after sunset and for the colour (or lack of) their costumes, tents and so on. The entire getup, right down to the AR overlays, is in shades of grey. From almost black to almost white and silver highlights, the only colour comes from the gaping audiences that throng to see the displays of prowess. And there is a reason they come, even to the jaded minds of the times, the performances of magic, matrix wizardry and physical skill are truly spectacular!
Having dragged yourselves out of bed unreasonably early this morning you’d met the transport to Tarislar just as the new fixer had stipulated…and it had turned out to be a fragging zeppelin! A bumpy ride later you and your fellow runners touched down in the elven enclave amidst the avid stares of the population who had turned out to see the circus off. From external appearances there’s nothing to set the land trains apart from any other commercial hauler, certainly nothing to advertise the circus’ presence.
The convoy consists of two trains of some fifty meters length each and an assortment of smaller vans and trucks. Outriders on quad bikes lead the way and overhead the blimp that you arrived in is fighting the currents to maintain its station over the centre of the snaking troupe. The vast balloon tires of the trains whisper through the ash. The road is lined with jaunty pines, all leaning uniformly away from Mount St Helens looming over the skyline. The pace is barely a crawl and you can see why your eta is a dreary ten hours or so away despite the comparatively short distance…you could walk there faster!
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Flicker looks at scene laid out before him and realizes this is going to be a long mission. I guess I need to find the Johnson to find out where we are storing our gear and laying our heads to rest.
Flicker quickly inventories his gear, vest, entry equipment, power bars, gloves, ammo, sharpies, batons, sword, gas mask, flash bangs, tear gas grenades, slap patches, predator, crusader, glasses, links, pumas, jeans, t-shirts lined coat. Seems like everything is in place and held securely.
Shoulders his duffle and heads out to find the guardian team or the Johnson.
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As Bittorrent arrives at the scene, he surveys the semi-organized chaos around him. Seems like his kind of place. His golden horns and tusks reflect the lights of the circus, and his tight dreds fall halfway down his broad back. Tall, even for a troll, though rather thin his dark ebony skin make his blue eyes stand out even more. He has a small duffle bag that he carries and his meticulous suit almost seems more appropriate for a Johnson.
Thinking to himself that the blimp will offer a great overwatch spot for him, he heads to find his contact.
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Luz looks at the hazy sky and reaches into her pack for her respirator, a must for trips into Puyallup, and dons it. Grabbing her gear case she heads out with the others in a search for the man (or woman) in charge.
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Instinct leads you to a dwarf who is directing the roustabouts with a firm and competent tone
"Ah, you're here, good. You can call me Oblique unless you prefer Johnson. Fit yourselves in wherever you think is best. I'll provide you the codes so that you can access what passes for a sensor mesh on the convoy...it's just a link to the nodes of the train units really, we prefer to rely on these..." and he taps the side of his head "for surveillance, that's why we hire people like you on a stretch like the one we're going through today. Any questions find me or one of the others...oi, you lot, get to your unit, we're leaving in five..."
This last to a giggling trio of scantily clad dancers/acrobats who are staring unabashed at Bittorrent...duly chastened the girls scamper off, although not without a backward glance or two...
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Luz temporarily removes the respirator, "Gracias señor. In what will the performers be traveling?"
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Flicker nods at Oblique.
And heads off to find a peaceful quiet trailer to store his gear and rest in.
After he finds a place to store his gear and a bed for night he decides to explore. Checking the top of bottom of the caravan for hidden weak points and areas to hide in. Then he starts looking for the office car and if there is any security personal other than him and his new hired team. Next is to see if there is a armory car and if so what it holds.
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Morgan shouldered his kit bag, overhearing the conversation with the head honcho. I'm gonna need full clearance on your network if I'm gonna be able to do anything about your security
Sort me out some marks and I'll get cracking.
Picking up the pace he ran as fast as his little legs could take him, eyeing up the slender and toned performing girls as he jogged to the nearest cabin. won't be such a bad job if I get more an eyeful of them hotties. Sounds like their network won't count for shit, best see what I'm working with here.
Hauling himself up onto the convoy he looked for a comfy place to get set up and jacked in to VR.
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Al staggered off the airship and nearly fell headlong into the gray ash dust before righting himself under his load. A rifle, shotgun, big canteen, and three good-sized satchels were clearly too much for his tiny frame. He stood just over five feet and weighed a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. His clothes were all too big on him.
He'd missed the initial meet-and-greet on this one, if there had even been one, handling everything by text with this Torrent fellow. The ork had a good enough rep. Al knew from watching the trid that a lot of these people who thought of themselves as "shadowrunners" liked to meet their employers. Whatever. He'd been busy lately. Never would have taken this silly job - they were always more trouble than advertised - if the guy hadn't mentioned it would be for a circus.
Al had always loved circuses.
He'd kept uncharacteristically silent on the ride over. Having spent the first half of August scrapping his Gaz around the ash wastes of Hell's Kitchen, he hadn't been able to resist taking a good look at the lie of the ground from cloud level. The team for this job was as colorful as usual, though not as pleasantly so as the last lot - that group had been over half women, all model-hot, median age maybe nineteen. Like something out of the wrong kind of sim.
Lot of missed opportunities there.
Trailing the group as they got their bearings, he noticed them talking to the head-dwarf-in-charge, but he'd been too busy looking at the barely dressed circus girls to hear anything that was said. Then people seemed to go their own ways - not a lot of cohesion yet, certainly no one stepping up on the leader front - suited him just fine. He trudged the long stretch up to the head of the lead train.
Letting the satchels drop, he climbed the ladder to the cab. The hands gripping the rungs looked as though they were melting around the aluminum rods, so horrifc was the burn scarring that covered them. It was early enough in the fall morning that he was glad for the ancient brown leather bomber jacket that covered him. The face that appeared in the window, startling the driver, had unattractively craggy features topped by an unkempt mop of sandy hair and framed by sideburns. The nose sported a unique line that could only be the product of several breaks. He had a red bandanna around his neck and a dusty pair of goggles on his forehead. The huge smile was like a wolf's, if wolves had Lucky Strikes hanging from the corner of their mouths.
He tapped at the window with a tobacco-stained fingernail, and the driver lowered it. Al loved working with men that worked for a living. Before the husky teamster could say a word, Al's scarred right hand was thrust through the aperture in an enthusiastic greeting - the man couldn't help but shake. "Top o' the mornin', kemo sabe. Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, esquire, at yer service."
"Uh, Frank. Driver."
"Allahu akbar, Frank. Looks like ol' Al's been tasked with supplementalizin' the security fer this show, an' I hope a free ticket's included inna fee."
"Well, I couldn't…"
"No, no, Al ain't no beggar. Feller's gotta work fer a livin', jist like it sez inna Good Book. Simply wuz hopin' I could ride up here with you. Reckon it's the best place to keep an eye onna horizon."
"Actually, be kind of tight. Other driver, Tyrone, he's a troll, right. Sorry, man, always welcome any extra security."
"Not to worry, amigo. I'd be onna running board, or up on top if things git sticky. Won't take no seatage up. Nosirreebob. Long as ya don't mind the company, an' ya don't mind muh bags tucked behind the seat there."
And the two men shook hands again.
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Bittorrent smiles warmly at the dancers. As he continues to walk with Oblique a bit, he turns his big golden smile towards the dwarf. Oblique, could you point me in the direction where I could find a more quiet place that would suit my size and, shall we say, stature?
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After stepping off of the zeppelin, Ghost takes a moment to orient himself; getting used to the noise of the convoy around him. He slowly shakes his head at how slowly the train is moving.
No wonder they brought us on board for security; anybody could jump on this thing and get around without even breaking a sweat. At least they don't stand out. They could have had big neon signs. Might have made it more fun. Guess I'd better check out their security; looks like I got time to kill.
He shakes his head again as he picks up his bag full of highly illegal weapons. As he moves throughout the train he thinks,
I hope this Circus is as good as everyone thinks it is.
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Leaflock snapped his commlink shut and smiled to himself. A new job was welcome, a new contact also appreciated but he was already running late to this party and needed to get a move on. The original transport had already left.
He quickly grabbed his duffel from the closet and threw in his customary travelling gear; a change of clothes, some personal items, his stubby little Defiance shotgun and some spare ammo. The rest of his normal working gear was already tucked away in the worn leather messenger bag that was usually slung over his shoulder.
Pulling on his worn surplus armor jacket and AR glasses, he made his way down to the little parking lot beside his apartment and secured the duffel onto his big Yamaha enduro bike.
The trip out from Auburn to Puyallup was thankfully short and uneventful, for once business didn't take him into the city proper. He could see the tail end of the road train still hadn't moved as he slowed his approach, pulling up a little way short of his final destination to quickly scan the unfamiliar scene.
It didn't take long to identify the chummer in charge of this gig - he kicked his bike forward pulling up alongside the dwarf doing all the yelling and then killed the motor.
"Hoi chummer, the names Leaflock, Leaf actually - a friend sent me along to lend a hand. Can I stash my bike in one of your trailers for now? I'm not much use as an outrider."
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[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Moving out of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Luz:
"Gracias señor. In what will the performers be traveling?"
Oblique gives you a rather harassed look and gestures vaguely towards the trains “Wherever there’s space! Some of the compartments are private space, there are a few RVs in the convoy for those of the troupe that have families… No! Not over there you idiot, stow it with the rest of the set in number seven…”
@Flicker:
Leaving Oblique to answer the flurry of questions you head out along the length of the convoy. Given its apparent speed the whole thing is potentially a security nightmare, but then that’s why you here no? A look at the ARO provided by Oblique shows there’s an admin area in the front train but no armoury to speak of. A few of the roustabouts sport weapons hanging from handy belt loops, they are used to travelling through interesting terrain after all…
@Morgan:
“I'm gonna need full clearance on your network if I'm gonna be able to do anything about your security. Sort me out some marks and I'll get cracking.”
“I said number seven, get those things out of your ears and concentrate! Fraggin’ Hell! Yes, yes, they will sort you out in administration…over that way”
@Al:
When Tyrone finally ascends to the cab you are just as glad you decided not to ride with Frank. Trolls aren’t renowned for their good looks and this one looks as if he’s been in as many wars as yourself and has done considerably more damage to his good looks. He leers at you “You’re a looker intcha?” before grunting to Frank in a guttural slang version of Cityspeek that sounds derived from something Germanic…
@Bittorrent:
“Oblique, could you point me in the direction where I could find a more quiet place that would suit my size and, shall we say, stature?”
He looks up at you, and up again, and grunts, calling back one of the pretty dancers “Bethan, take golden boy here with the halfer to admin, they can get the matrix access they want there and I’m sure they’ll appreciate the company” he grins at Morgan and yourself. Pretty Bethan reaches out to take your hand, not shy this one, and drags you up the convoy towards the front train whilst whispering, and giggling, something inaudible into her comm…
@Ghost:
The other runners seem to be spreading themselves fairly evenly across the convoy and picking a point along its length you settle in for the ride
@Leaflock:
"Hoi chummer, the names Leaflock, Leaf actually - a friend sent me along to lend a hand. Can I stash my bike in one of your trailers for now? I'm not much use as an outrider."
Oblique gestures towards the end of the second train “Go and talk to Bishop, you can stow it down there…right, let’s get this beast on the move!”
@All:
And move this beast does…The gait is ponderous, perhaps two miles an hour. The wind is picking up bringing the sulfer stink from Hell’s Kitchen to claw at the back of your throats even with sophisticated rebreathers cutting out the fumes. A message appears in your inboxes
<<@Team [Torrent]: I’m told you are on board. Coordinate through the admin group and Bittorrent or Morgan. If you need anything extra let me know…I’m new in Seattle and I want this one to go as smooth as silk, no frag ups!>>
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Bittorrent thanks Oblique graciously. He gently takes Bethan's hand and winks enderingly at her as he followers her to the train.
Once Bethan introduces him to whomever is in charge at Admin he smiles charmingly to Bethan and asks if she would mind stashing his duffel where ever he'll be crashing. Then he turns his attention to business. Once he's given the codes to the security mesh he begins to scan the area in AR and calls up XON to do more searches.
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After stowing his bike on the rearmost trailer, Leaf sat down for a moment and pulled out his commlink, tapping a message to his new colleagues...
-I'm down at the tail end of the train and all seems under control for now. I'll see if I can arrange some cover for our astral perimeter if I can find somewhere quiet to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, should we meet for a quick discussion? Leaf-
Snapping his commlink shut he began to move around the trailer looking for a spot to try summoning some astral assistance.
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-I'm down at the tail end of the train and all seems under control for now. I'll see if I can arrange some cover for our astral perimeter if I can find somewhere quiet to make the necessary arrangements. Meanwhile, should we meet for a quick discussion? Leaf-
A magician summons me. The irony. The things we do to make it to payday.
Ghost replies:
Ghost here. I'll be short and to the point. I'm currently checking out what little security this place has, but I agree we should meet and get to know each other. Message me when you have the security for our meeting worked out; I would rather not be found grouped together to be taken out by a spell or a nade. Considering how many of us there are, I'm assuming we aren't defending against some petty bandits. Be careful, I wouldn't want to upset Torrent.
He puts his cheap meta link away, and takes his two pistols out of his bag. After fitting them securely onto his body, he goes back to surveying the train's security.
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Morgan took the comment with a nod and jogged over to the administration hub as directed, kit bags over his shoulder.
He hopped up and knocked on the internal door, appreciating the smell of stale nicotine and fresh soy-caf.
Morgan took in the scene, looking for someone "in charge" to speak to.
Hoi, I'm one of your freelancers. I need setting up as an admin on your network. The boss said you're the man. Can't work without those rights,
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Flicker smiles as he sees the message asking for a meet up.
"Very slow moving, but the million Nuyen question is what are we carrying or who is so valuable you would attack a circus more than once? I guess we figure that out together. Well I guess I should move along to the rear to see who is who and hear the plan."
Flicker hops up on top the caravan and moves his way back to the back car, going from shadow to shadow as quietly as possible. As he reaches the last car he looks in from top hatch seeing it filled with vehicles and a man looking for a spot to sit and what must be a guard or worker.
Check the outside to see if anyone else is here yet, seeing I am the first I quietly slip into the car and into a shadow.
Hello, I am Flicker it is nice to meet you.
Sneak http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4638732/
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Hello, I am Flicker it is nice to meet you.
Leaf nods and smiles as the newcomer enters the compartment, already sitting cross-legged on the floor rooting through his satchel while clearing his mind to search for a suitable spirit to call upon. Satisfied, he closes his eyes and mumbles a few words quietly and begins to reach out to a Spirit of Beasts.
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Bittorrent sends a message to the rest of the team, "I'll be down in just a few minutes, need to wrap things up at the front of the train first."
Once he's been introduced and shown around the admin car, he casually heads toward the vehicle car at the back of the line. His good natured smile and a friendly word to any that are appropriet on the way back.
"Sorry for the delay, everyone getting settled?"
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The dust kicked up the moment the train got underway, but Al knew it was not nearly as bad up here at the front tip as further back. Frank had rolled up the window, leaving Al alone on the running board. He'd be fine here, as long as he thumbed the build-up off his goggles from time to time and kept the bandanna around his nose and mouth suitably moistened. This would be nothing - the Chech Erg in northern Mali-Faso alone made this place a nursery school sandbox. He settled into the job: keeping an eye out for trouble.
He hadn't figured it would be long before some enterprising soul wanted to get organized, and soon the traffic on the screen of his comm proved him correct. Using voice-to-text, he sent the following: <<I'm way up on the front cab. This'll be my post - I've driven these rigs before, so won't hurt to have a back-up wheel man. But I'll come back to the tail for now, provide security for your pow wow from the roof. I ain't much for group play anyhow, so you can just tell me the plan once you decide it. Oh, shit, right, this is Al.>>
He tapped on the window and promised Frank he'd be back soon. Across the cab, Tyrone shrugged in disdain. Then he made his way back down the length of the two trains, leaping from rooftop to rooftop until he was on top of the rear wagon where the meeting was.
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Sender: Ghost
Just finished up surveying their physical security, the place is a mess. Sending you AR information. I'm on my way; be there in a few minutes.
Attached AROs: Security_is_awful.ARO
Ghost starts making his way to the back car, moving as swiftly as he can.
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Luz arrives to the meeting, having changed from her business clothing to a modified Sleeping Tiger outfit: squared shoulders, tight midriff, slightly open kimono-style sleeves, a high collar unbuckled in the front with a cloak-style hood, currently worn back. The bottom of the suit is a ballistic long skirt covering the legs down to the shins. The skirt is open on the sides up to the hips, revealing quality replacements. A Colt M23 hangs at her side from a three-point sling.
She speaks with a noticeable Aztlan accent, "Si, this is a security nightmare. The convoy is so spread-out it will be tough to defend it all." She looks at her companions, obviously sizing them up, "I think we have two options: consolidate the performers and VIPs to try and defend them all; or, we spread out the performers to minimize loss from any single attack and consolidate any VIPs for protection, whomever they may be."
She paused, looking down in thought, "We need to meet with our employers to get a better understanding of what security issues they are so concerned about, but Señor Oblique seems bothered by questions. We also need to know if anyone in the convoy has medical training or healing magic; we will be too busy defending this mess to be able to help anyone who gets hit...including each other."
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[14SEP2075 0900|Seattle Sprawl Airspace (Entering Puyallup)]
>>Echo-Tango 0807, your flight plan is confirmed. Fly safe, the weather report looks like drek.
Looks like Teri sorted the flight plan, Harrier thought to himself, making a mental note to pick her up something nice in thanks. Taking the world in through the sensors of his Northrup Wasp, the rigger already knew the weather was going to be rubbish today. But it never hurt to be appreciative of the fine folks at Seattle-Tacoma International.
>>Roger that, SEATAC. I'll do my best and thanks for the tip. Out
Signing off, Harrier settled into the Wasp's cockpit. Checking his sensors, he noted his three MCT-Nissan Roto-Drones forming the rest of his flight, two on either flank and one forming up the rear. As he crossed into airspace over the Puyallup Barrens, the rigger secured the data cable from his Vulcan Liegelord and plugged it in securely to the access port of the rigger interface of his helicopter. Slipping into VR, Harrier jumped into the Wasp.
The world opened up around him; the Wasp's advanced sensor suite replacing his senses. The dwarf figured he'd never get used to the strange perspective, but appreciated it all the same.The array synthesized the various data feeds coming in from the sensors, giving him a greatly enhanced understanding of his surroundings. Seeing no outstanding threats, Harrier punched in the rendezvous coordinates Torrent had given him and set to work. The ork fixer had rung him barely 12 hours before about this particular run. The renowned Cirque de l’Ombre was traveling between Tarislar and Loveland and needed an escort through Puyallup. Brilliant on their part, Harrier thought to himself as he scanned the area he was flying over, this place is full of tossers. Seemed a simple enough job, depending on who or what may take shots at the convoy.
Harrier's thoughts were interrupted by an incoming message icon streaking into the icon of his chopper. Speak of the devil... the rigger thought as a new message popped up.
<<@Harrier [Torrent] The rest of the crew is already at the convoy. As we arranged, you can land on the last car of the second train for now. The thing barely moves, so it should be pretty stable. I've attached a list of the commcodes of the rest of the crew. They're probably all burners, so don't get any bright ideas about turning it into paydata. You might want to give them a head's up...>>
[14SEP2075 0945|Seattle Sprawl Airspace (Tarislar)]
Harrier was certain he would have missed the convoy if he had been a few minutes later and wasn't using the Wasp's sensors. Granted, it was big as frag, but the cars of the train, really pretty much everything about the convoy, was the same color as the ash-covered buildings of the neighborhood it was about to enter. At least the zeppelin provided him a nice aerial marker for the location of the convoy. Activating his communication suite, he sent a call to the zeppelin.
>>L'Ombre Zep, this is Harrier. Your air support has arrived, chappers. Over.
>>Received, Harrier. I was just about to drek my pants here before Oblique called. You're cleared to land on Caboose 2. Out
Not entirely sure who Oblique was, Harrier's chopper icon shrugged what passed for its shoulders in the Matrix. Initiating the landing gear, the rigger moved the Wasp down the line of cars, clearing the first train before settling into a low hover a few cars before Caboose 2. Spotting something out of place, Harrier sent a message to the rest of the team Torrent had assembled.
<<@TeamTorrent [Harrier] Hoi, chappers! Your air support has arrived. Can someone help me out and clear the hobo off the roof of Caboose 2 so I can land?>>
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Satisfied with the spider access he'd been given, he waved at Bittorrent and followed him through into the meeting.
Just got me clearance for the network. So happy for now yeah. I'll get cracking on the 'trix side of things but judging by the message from Ghost here, the physical ain't looking so great. Ghost, you alright if me and you review this shit in detail over a soycaf? I've not had chance to check over the host yet so give me half an hour ok?
Seeing the incoming message from the air-support, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. the fuck have I gotten into here? What kind of fragging circus needs a bloody close air support pilot?
Shit guys, is it just me or is the security on this thing a bit fucking serious? Who the hell are we expecting? a full azzie invasion?
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Bittorrent looks down at Morgan and nods. "Yeah, once we finish the meet-n-greet I plan on going over this place with a fine tooth comb. I'll bring some help along with me." The last said with a toothy golden grin.
He thinks to himself, "Air support? What the drek!?!? Can see that being useful for a moving convoy this size."
And to the team, "Welcome Harrier, lets get the meat chat rolling."
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Luz arrives to the meeting, having changed from her business clothing to a modified Sleeping Tiger outfit: squared shoulders, tight midriff, slightly open kimono-style sleeves, a high collar unbuckled in the front with a cloak-style hood, currently worn back. The bottom of the suit is a ballistic long skirt covering the legs down to the shins. The skirt is open on the sides up to the hips, revealing quality replacements. A Colt M23 hangs at her side from a three-point sling.
She speaks with a noticeable Aztlan accent, "Si, this is a security nightmare. The convoy is so spread-out it will be tough to defend it all." She looks at her companions, obviously sizing them up, "I think we have two options: consolidate the performers and VIPs to try and defend them all; or, we spread out the performers to minimize loss from any single attack and consolidate any VIPs for protection, whomever they may be."
She paused, looking down in thought, "We need to meet with our employers to get a better understanding of what security issues they are so concerned about, but Señor Oblique seems bothered by questions. We also need to know if anyone in the convoy has medical training or healing magic; we will be too busy defending this mess to be able to help anyone who gets hit...including each other."
Ghost, his voice a little rough as if it doesn't get much use, replies in a slight spanish accent, "I agree, we need more information. Any and all threats does not give us much to work with, especially since this convoy is so ill-equipped. I would rather we not lose all the circus performers one by one, but grouping them together is just asking for trouble. I assume you all have seen the AROs I sent you? It looks bad, and that's putting it mildly. I'll have to ask Señor Oblique if he has some sensors we can rig up for real time connection. Even bad security should give us some notification so we have time to react. I'll be honest, I'm paranoid enough that I can figure out this security thing, but technical stuff? I'd rather leave that in the hands of someone who can actually rig that drek correctly. Any volunteers?"
Just got me clearance for the network. So happy for now yeah. I'll get cracking on the 'trix side of things but judging by the message from Ghost here, the physical ain't looking so great. Ghost, you alright if me and you review this shit in detail over a soycaf? I've not had chance to check over the host yet so give me half an hour ok?
This is going to be a long ride... I guess pacing myself doesn't hurt. Gotta be ready for anything though.
Yeah, sure, sounds good, mi camarada. I'll see what I can get out of Señor Oblique in the meantime.
Ghost feels his commlink vibrate, he pulls it out of pocket to read the message.
>>@TeamTorrent [Harrier] Hoi, chappers! Your air support has arrived. Can someone help me out and clear the hobo off the roof of Caboose 2 so I can land?
What the hell? Air support? Damn, if he hadn't actually known my commcode he would have been shot upon landing. Torrent didn't mention anything about fragging air support. What are we defending against that we need air support?
He looks up at his comrades and sees their startled faces.
I assume everyone else just got this message too? Anybody know we were expecting air support?
Everyone seems to shake their heads.
Shit guys, is it just me or is the security on this thing a bit fucking serious? Who the hell are we expecting? a full azzie invasion?
Ghost immediately replies, "Not a full Azzie invasion."
Ghost raises his hand to stop any questions.
Again, he repeats, "It is most certainly not a full Azzie invasion. You would need a hell of a lot more defense than this against that. Trust me, you do not want to know how I know this, I just do. However, I do agree that this is getting a little extreme."
Ghost pauses a moment in thought.
All right, change of plans. Someone needs to talk to our new "air support", while Morgan looks through our virtual security. I'll see what I can arrange with Señor Oblique, but we really need someone to message Torrent and get him to clarify what the fuck we were hired to defend against. Speak up now if you want to add something to the plan. I doubt we'll have much time later, since I have the feeling we'll be too busy trying to defend this train.
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Al spotted the incoming Wasp long before the text traffic started. It had been less than a month since he'd had to duck a KE bird, and knowing they were still after him the first thing he did was check for their marks physically and in AR. Nothing overt. Swallowing back the bit of puke that had crept into the back of his throat in just the five ticks he'd accessed the virtual, he kept watching the thing. It was soon clear enough it was on an approach vector, and he was just about to ask the airship if they knew this guy when he got Harrier's message. Seconds after that, Ghost's text echoed his own thoughts. Rather than fiddle with the annoying device any further, he simply poked his face down through the roof hatch and, pulling the bandanna down, addressed the assembled team.
"Nope, Torrent din't say bupkus ta ol' Al 'bout this joker neither. But we let 'im land." His tobacco-ravaged voice sounded like a bulldozer trying to yodel. "Plenny of us an' one o' him if'n things go south, an' I ain't goin' head ta head with his flyin' machine all exposed up here." And with that, his unshaven face disappeared.
Making his way down an access ladder on the outside of the caboose, he braced himself in a firing position facing the center of the roof, hoping one of the tech wonks would straighten this out with their the Euro-Ork before itchy trigger fingers sent things south.
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[14SEP2075 0945|Seattle Sprawl Airspace (Tarislar)]
Through the Wasp's sensors, Harrier watched as the hobo opened the top hatch. Training the directional mic on the man, he picked up a portion of the conversation.
"...'bout this joker neither. But we let 'im land. Plenny of us an' one o' him if'n things go south, an' I ain't goin' head ta head with his flyin' machine all exposed up here."
Well, that's a great way to start off with a new group of blokes, Harrier thought to himself. Call one of them a hobo. Still, the rigger could understand and even appreciate the group's caution. After observing the hobo his new teammate climb down the ladder, the dwarf brought the Wasp in for a landing on the roof of the caboose, with the nose pointed to the rear of the convoy. It was fortunate this particular model of helicopter was fairly lightweight. Attempting something like this with an Ares Dragon would have been a complete disaster.
Killing the power plant, Harrier slipped into AR and unplugged his Liegelord from the rigger interface. Grabbing the chocks from behind his seat, as well as the sleeve containing his Eye Spys, the rigger popped the canopy and exited the vehicle. Ducking low, the dwarf chocked the three wheels underneath the fuselage, preventing the Wasp from rolling off the train. Finalizing the temporary shutdown of his craft, he watched as the three Roto-Drones set down to the sides and rear of the larger helicopter, sensors taking in the surrounding area but otherwise appearing inert. Satisfied that everything was as good as it would get at his ersatz LZ, the dwarf checked to make sure that his firearm was secured to his thigh and headed toward the ladder. It was at this point he finally noticed that the sentry had not actually fully left the scene. With a shotgun trained on him, Harrier stopped and raised his hands. I knew I shouldn't have called that guy a hobo, he thought to himself, life flashing before his eyes. The hard-bitten man seemed to consider him a moment before motioning with his head that he should head down the ladder. Silently nodding, the dwarf did just that.
Making his way down slowly, he entered the caboose, hand held out away from his sides in deference to the uncertainty he had picked up in the man's voice earlier. Speaking calmly, the rigger said, "Name's Harrier. Torrent sent me, he thought I'd be helpful to the effort here. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I appear to have been a last minute addition."
Figuring the group would want to confirm his statement, he queued up the message Torrent had just sent and prepared to forward it to whomever asked.
-
@Ghost:
Well I was being facetious, but I'm glad you're not expecting an invasion force haha
-
Ghost, his voice a little rough as if it doesn't get much use, replies in a slight spanish accent, "I agree, we need more information. Any and all threats does not give us much to work with, especially since this convoy is so ill-equipped. I would rather we not lose all the circus performers one by one, but grouping them together is just asking for trouble. I assume you all have seen the AROs I sent you? It looks bad, and that's putting it mildly. I'll have to ask Señor Oblique if he has some sensors we can rig up for real time connection. Even bad security should give us some notification so we have time to react. I'll be honest, I'm paranoid enough that I can figure out this security thing, but technical stuff? I'd rather leave that in the hands of someone who can actually rig that drek correctly. Any volunteers?"
Bittorent listens as Ghost runs down his list, and chimes in. "Oblique mentioned the limited sensor mesh saying they prefered using bodies to machines for watching the trains. He also arranged for Morgan and I to have access to it. Looks like we'll want to add at least Harrier to that list, otherwise we can provide AR feeds as needed. As for getting some more information out of Oblique, I can help with that. I'll have a sit down with him once we've wrapped this up. Then catch up with Morgan to go over security once I've gotten some more information about what we're expecting."
-
Morgan nodded at Ghost
I'll have to borrow some tools from maintenance but I'm more than capable of rigging up some sensor nets
-
Al watched the dwarf dismount and secure his bird. Then, hell, his whole flock.
Al figured he must be who he said he was, or he wouldn't ever have landed, just blown things up. But he'd seen some loco plays in his day, and as he puffed on his cigarette he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was tracking on the goateed pilot with his shotgun during his whole time on the roof.
He gave things thirty seconds to see if they went crazy once the dwarf went down the hatch, then when all stayed quiet, he followed down after him.
Settling his butt down on the floor in the furthest corner of the room, a fresh Lucky appeared between his burn-scarred fingers and he lit it with a big stainless steel Zippo that had suddenly materialized in his other hand.
Watching the team talk shop, and trying to care about such details, he sized up the group. In a gravelly rasp just loud enough that maybe people could hear it, he mused, "Hell, we git any more half-pints in here, we gon' have ta start callin' vat-girl Snow White."
-
[14SEP2075 0950 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Tarislar]
"Do you have anything proving Torrent sent you?" The challenge came from a tall and wiry elf who, if Harrier were going to be honest, somehow felt soulless.
Nodding, the dwarf forwarded the message Torrent had sent him less than an hour ago and slowly lowered his hands. "I can help out with surveillance if you need more eyes." Pulling the black vinyl sleeve off his back, he slowly loosened the drawstring and turned the sack upside down. Five baseball-shaped metal objects dropped out of the bag. Before hitting the ground, each of the balls of metal initiated small thrusters and hovered, taking up an evenly-spaced elliptical orbit around Harrier's head.
"Mitsuhama Spy Eyes, the Horizon model is rubbish," the rigger said with a note of pride in his voice. "I was planning on setting them up to monitor any threats coming from outside, but if you chaps think we need more security inside, I'd be happy to deploy them where you see fit. They're kitted out with atmospheric sensors, cameras with low-light and thermographic, directional mics, laser range finders, motion sensors, omni-directional mics, olfactory sensors, and radio frequency finders. The feeds can be added into the sensor net. If necessary," he finishes with some reluctance, "I can invite MARKS to anyone who wants to issue them commands."
-
@Ghost:
Well I was being facetious, but I'm glad you're not expecting an invasion force haha
What the hell does facetious mean?
Ah, I sometimes miss the ... subtler parts of conversation. I blame my upbringing, but that's not a conversation to have right now.
Bittorent listens as Ghost runs down his list, and chimes in. "Oblique mentioned the limited sensor mesh saying they prefered using bodies to machines for watching the trains. He also arranged for Morgan and I to have access to it. Looks like we'll want to add at least Harrier to that list, otherwise we can provide AR feeds as needed. As for getting some more information out of Oblique, I can help with that. I'll have a sit down with him once we've wrapped this up. Then catch up with Morgan to go over security once I've gotten some more information about what we're expecting."
Ghost mutters to himself
Prefers using bodies to machines; I cannot tell if he takes security seriously. Supposed to have machines and bodies.
In reply to Bittorent,
All right, well that helps us somewhat, but there still are quite a few holes in security. If you can get some extra gear out of him, all the better. While you're doing that, I'll try to ask Torrent about our ... situation.
I'll have to borrow some tools from maintenance but I'm more than capable of rigging up some sensor nets
Good, let's hope that Oblique can deliver on some sensors.
"Hell, we git any more half-pints in here, we gon' have ta start callin' vat-girl Snow White."
With his augmented hearing, Ghost easily picks up what adamu says. However, he has no idea what the human is talking about, so he just ignores his mumbling and focuses his attention on the new arrival, Harrier.
Speaking calmly, the rigger said, "Name's Harrier. Torrent sent me, he thought I'd be helpful to the effort here. Sorry for showing up unannounced. I appear to have been a last minute addition."
Figuring the group would want to confirm his statement, he queued up the message Torrent had just sent and prepared to forward it to whomever asked.
All right, your message from Torrent seems authentic. Welcome to our group. Here's what you've missed. We're here to provide security on this convoy, which is moving slower than a snail, has absolute drek for security; we know none of the people we are supposed to guard, and we have no idea what we are defending against. If it sounds like fun, you've come to the right place.
Shrugging and slowly lowering his hands, Harrier flagged the message he was planning to forward for his bona fides for quick recall in case someone asked for it. "I can help out with surveillance if you need more eyes." Pulling the black vinyl sleeve off his back, he slowly loosened the drawstring and turned the sack upside down. Five baseball-shaped metal objects dropped out of the bag. Before hitting the ground, each of the balls of metal initiated small thrusters and hovered, taking up an evenly-spaced elliptical orbit around Harrier's head.
"Mitsuhama Spy Eyes, the Horizon model is rubbish," the rigger said with a note of pride in his voice. "I was planning on setting them up to monitor any threats coming from outside, but if you chaps think we need more security inside, I'd be happy to deploy them where you see fit. They're kitted out with atmospheric sensors, cameras with low-light and thermographic, directional mics, laser range finders, motion sensors, omni-directional mics, olfactory sensors, and radio frequency finders. The feeds can be added into the sensor net. If necessary," he finishes with some reluctance, "I can invite MARKS to anyone who wants to issue them commands."
Sounds good, we'll need it. If you want to take a look at our convoy and figure a few things out, go ahead. We still need a little time to get information out of our employer and the owner of this circus, although I hope that they will not make things difficult for us. I don't give a damn what model your drones are, I just care about if you can pilot them well, and help out. Anything you need with technical applications, I'm not the one to talk to. Those two would be better suited to answer your questions. Ghost motions in Morgan and Bittorent's direction. I'll send you some AROs that may be of use to you.
Recipient: Harrier
Sender: Ghost
Attachment: Security_is_awful.ARO
-
[14SEP2075 0950 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Tarislar]
Harrier chuckled and responded to Ghost. "If you don't care what model of drones I'm running, you don't have to tell me you don't know drek about tech. Thanks for the file!" What a wanker... the rigger thought to himself as he walked away.
Calling up the ARO file, the dwarf introduced himself to Morgan and BitTorrent and said, "Greetings, chaps. What's the play?"
-
Watching the team talk shop, and trying to care about such details, he sized up the group. In a gravelly rasp just loud enough that maybe people could hear it, he mused, "Hell, we git any more half-pints in here, we gon' have ta start callin' vat-girl Snow White."
"I'm no vatjob amigo. That's just replacing weakness with better weakness." She ran her finger down her torso, "This is all hardware...and I am not white"
"Greetings, chaps. What's the play?"
"The play is that we let the performers spread out and we play zone defense; recommend you don't let your drones wander out farther than 150 meters. We need front, rear and flank security, as well as ground vehicles in the front to trigger any IEDs. A smart attacker with numbers will hit the first and last vehicles and try to trap us before moving in. Those with small numbers will just keep hitting the rear vehicles."
She paused,Watch for ambushes; normally, if we hit one, you get out of the kill zone as fast as you can. If you can't get out, turn into the attackers and run them down. These trains are too slow and big to do that. So we'll just have to rely on firepower - don't hold back."
We also need to keep the drivers of this convoy from trying to crawl up each other's culos, make sure they leave enough room in-between that one blast doesn't take out two. We might also want to use the faster vehicles to secure intersections while the trains cross."
Luz cursed to herself, "We need our employers to detail the route. We need them to tell us a lot that they have not yet. That is bad business amigos."
-
"I'm no vatjob amigo. That's just replacing weakness with better weakness." She ran her finger down her torso, "This is all hardware...and I am not white"
Seated on the floor with his forearms on his knees, Al winked, his cigarette clamped between his yellow teeth in the very center of his huge grin. Then made a peace sign for good measure.
After the woman finished speaking to the rest of the group, he said "I'll second the zone dee-fense idear, an' I done already called muh zone. Headed back up ta the front cab, keep an eye on things that end. Y'all work out the finer points with ol' Al's blessing."
Heading back up the length of the train, he linked his comm to his earbuds, and set texts to translate to voice. Once he got settled he'd look at the graphics they'd sent on the screen.
-
Morgan shook harrier's hand. hey, not entirely sure on the trix side, literally just.got my clearances now. as the physical is in such a poor state I'm not exactly holding much hope for excellence. How was the flight in? Can you talk us through what you've got and what you can provide? Wish I could say you've joined a decent outfit but we've got some Fucking work to do to make sure we see our pay day without too many holes in our bodies.
-
"The play is that we let the performers spread out and we play zone defense; recommend you don't let your drones wander out farther than 150 meters. We need front, rear and flank security, as well as ground vehicles in the front to trigger any IEDs. A smart attacker with numbers will hit the first and last vehicles and try to trap us before moving in. Those with small numbers will just keep hitting the rear vehicles."
She paused,Watch for ambushes; normally, if we hit one, you get out of the kill zone as fast as you can. If you can't get out, turn into the attackers and run them down. These trains are too slow and big to do that. So we'll just have to rely on firepower - don't hold back."
We also need to keep the drivers of this convoy from trying to crawl up each other's culos, make sure they leave enough room in-between that one blast doesn't take out two. We might also want to use the faster vehicles to secure intersections while the trains cross."
Luz cursed to herself, "We need our employers to detail the route. We need them to tell us a lot that they have not yet. That is bad business amigos."
Bittorrent listens to what Luz has to say and then pipes in with, "These are all good points, and I will go speak with Oblique shortly to get some more information for us. One thing I'd like to caution against is assuming our clients are professional military, or even remotely used to dealing with such. Its possible some of them have had some experience like this, but this is mostly a troupe of performers, actors and con artists. There's obviously something heavy they are hiding/protecting and expecting a fairly major show of force as they hired a rather large heavily equiped set of body guards, but I doubt they know anything about unit cohesion or running interference or co-ordination. I think it is much safer to assume this motely crew will react as individuals."
He takes a deep breath, and realizes he's far from the local expert on these types of tactics.
"Sorry, I should probably stick to dealing with people and the 'trix. You three obviously know more about this than I do. Lemme go chat with Oblique, ney? I'll get all of you the data I get back via ARs."
BT walks over to Harrier and Morgan to chat. "Please to meet you Harrier, I go by Bittorrent, BT for short. I've done a quick once over for how things are positioned around here, and Morgan is about to take a deeper look. I've some friends that can help with your toys when the heat comes in." Raising his hands, large palms outward in a show of aquiecence. He continues, "No offence, I'm sure you're the best at your job. But freebies help everyone."
He then excuses himself and goes off to find Oblique.
-
[14SEP2075 0950 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Tarislar]
Returning the other dwarf's handshake, Harrier nodded. "Sure thing, mate." Before he could list off the assets he had brought with him, the two were interrupted by a very large, very black troll. Listening as BitTorrent introduced himself, the dwarf couldn't help but stare at the gold accents on the trolls horns and his gilded teeth. All told, it made the troll even more menacing. Glad we're on the same side, he thought to himself.
"Two deckers? Aces! Nice to meet you BT, I'll take all the help I can get."
As the troll departed to speak to the mysterious Oblique, Harrier returned his attention to Morgan. "Like I was about to say, the flight in was rubbish, but that's not a surprise out here. The ash, updrafts, and the on-and-off threat of volcanic activity make flying around here a little choppy, but I should be able to handle it if I need to get up in the air." Pulling up the ARO-laden file Ghost had sent him, the rigger frowned as he scanned through the image files, "Well that's bollocks... I'm almost more worried about this thing making it to the other side of Puyallup without even considering anyone actually trying to stop it. Maintenance doesn't seem to be a big concern here."
Sighing, Harrier continued, "Oh well, nothing much to be done about that for the moment. You asked what I brought to the party? Right-O. For discreet surveillance, I've got five brilliant Mitsuhama Eye Spys with a full sensor package including atmospheric sensors, cameras with low-light and thermographic, directional mics, laser range finders, motion sensors, omni-directional mics, olfactory sensors, and radio frequency finders." The rigger ticks off each sensor as he names them. "For fire support, I brought along three MCT-Nissan Roto-Drones with an adequate sensor suite armed with M23 assault rifles. Finally, if the drek really hits the fan, I've got the Wasp up top. She's loaded with an advanced sensor suite and a recessed LMG for whenever someone wants to really be a twat." Reaching over his shoulder, he tapped his RCC. "Everything is slaved to my Liegelord here for protection and remote operation."
"...and that's about the lot of it, I think." Harrier finished. At this point, it dawned on him that he didn't even know the other dwarf's name. "So, what can I call you?"
-
great stuff. Nice accent man, you from Britain? That sounds excellent. We can definitely make use of that. How you fixed for fuel? We could really make use of regular patrols and scouting runs. Once I get this thing secured I'll extend the security to your broadcast kit, don't want our eyes and ears getting subverted.
-
Luz looks at Morgan, "Can you do the same for my PAN?"
She looks at the remaining group, "I know this is just the circus; but they paid for security. If all we have to worry about is wildlife and lowlife scum, muy bien, otherwise, we prepare for the worst. We've all have been double-crossed by a Johnson before."
She turns and leaves, heading towards the driver.
-
"The play is that we let the performers spread out and we play zone defense; recommend you don't let your drones wander out farther than 150 meters. We need front, rear and flank security, as well as ground vehicles in the front to trigger any IEDs. A smart attacker with numbers will hit the first and last vehicles and try to trap us before moving in. Those with small numbers will just keep hitting the rear vehicles."
She paused,Watch for ambushes; normally, if we hit one, you get out of the kill zone as fast as you can. If you can't get out, turn into the attackers and run them down. These trains are too slow and big to do that. So we'll just have to rely on firepower - don't hold back."
We also need to keep the drivers of this convoy from trying to crawl up each other's culos, make sure they leave enough room in-between that one blast doesn't take out two. We might also want to use the faster vehicles to secure intersections while the trains cross."
Shaking his head, Ghost replies, "I disagree, we don't have enough manpower to spread out the people we were hired to protect. We need to get them into an easy to defend position that we can guard; otherwise I see no way to cover the entire train. If we are all trying to defend our respective zones, we will get picked off one by one while we are too far away for others to help. Once they get rid of us, this circus has nothing to guard it; if it did, why would they hire us?"
Ghost nods when Luz mentions ambushes.
At the mention of the drivers, he says, "I doubt they can move any faster than they are. They most likely want to get out of here as quickly as possible, and I cannot believe that they would go at a slower speed than they have to."
Luz cursed to herself, "We need our employers to detail the route. We need them to tell us a lot that they have not yet. That is bad business amigos."
Bittorrent listens to what Luz has to say and then pipes in with, "These are all good points, and I will go speak with Oblique shortly to get some more information for us. One thing I'd like to caution against is assuming our clients are professional military, or even remotely used to dealing with such. Its possible some of them have had some experience like this, but this is mostly a troupe of performers, actors and con artists. There's obviously something heavy they are hiding/protecting and expecting a fairly major show of force as they hired a rather large heavily equiped set of body guards, but I doubt they know anything about unit cohesion or running interference or co-ordination. I think it is much safer to assume this motely crew will react as individuals."
He takes a deep breath, and realizes he's far from the local expert on these types of tactics.
"Sorry, I should probably stick to dealing with people and the 'trix. You three obviously know more about this than I do. Lemme go chat with Oblique, ney? I'll get all of you the data I get back via ARs."
I intend to get as much information out of Torrent as I can; hopefully BT can get something out of Oblique. I doubt he will cause us any troubles, because as he said, no fragups. Until then, I do not think we can do anything else.
He sees Luz walk off.
God damn, things were so much easier during the war. Sure, you didn't know who was going to do what next, but at least you had a clear objective. Torrent better give me some information or we are seriously fucked.
Kind of sad that I'm finding myself enjoying this thrill...
I believe this meeting is over, we need more information before we can do anything, everyone coordinate as necessary. I am going to go have a few words with our employer.
Ghost walks off and pulls out his commlink.
Recipient: Torrent
Sender: Ghost
This is Ghost, one of your runners. I'll just be honest with you. I need a hell of a lot more information than you've given us. I already thought it was a little extreme, but then I found out you sent in god damn air support? What the fuck are we defending against? Judging by the size of our team, this circus must be a lot more valuable than we thought, so who are we suspecting will attack this? We cannot do anything but the most basic of security, because we have no idea what we have to be able to stop. I would rather come out of this alive, and I'm sure the rest of my team would agree with me, so if you want no fragups, better give us some more information, or I don't think this circus, or us, are going to get out of here alive. This is not a threat, but if you want your reputation to remain untarnished, you got to give your team a little more info to protect our charges. Otherwise, I have no choice but to conclude we are sitting ducks out here.
Adios Señor Torrent, I expect to hear from you soon.
Ghost puts his commlink away and calmly loads all of his guns, expecting the worst.
-
Back on the running board of the lead cab, Al had looked over the information that had been sent to his commlink for a while, but before long it bored him and he redirected his attention to the ash wastes. Their surroundings were growing more barren as they pulled away from the elven community. Why all those keebs would want to live out here was way beyond him. But then, he'd recently set up housekeeping here as well - he reckoned everyone had their own stories to tell.
Time to get Frank's.
He coaxed the teamster to lower his window a little and started making small talk. The door on the shotgun side of the cab was open as Tyrone leaned out to take a piss.
Frank opened up pretty well once he saw that Al was familiar with these sorts of rig, and they traded notes on this model vs. the machines Al had handled in North Africa. Al asked a lot of questions about the filtering they were using here, where the particulates were a lot smaller, as well as about Frank's shifting strategies. It wasn't hard from there to ease into what he really wanted to talk about.
"Seems like a helluva lot o' headache fer a one day run. What genius done picked this route anyway?"
-
Flicker nods at Harrier
We really do need to figure out what they want to steal from this train, it has been robbed before so it has to be something they pick up and drop off somewhere regularly. Once we know what it is we can figure out what car they store it in and we can setup our security appropriately.
I will come with you BT I would like to see and hear how Oblique reacts to your questions.
-
___to harrier____
name's Morgan. Them drones are gonna be damn handy I think, catch you later mate, I've gotta get cracking on this host.
___to luz___
Shouldn't be a problem. Right, I'm gonna go find me bunk and jack in. Give me a call if you need me.
Morgan grab his kit bags waved to the gathered group, explaining his need to go jack in and work privately.
He wandered off down the corridor looking for the accommodation unit and his empty bunk.
Finding the stale smelling carriage, he sat on the edge of the bunk and slid his kit under it, though not before he'd removed his deck. He drew his pistol and synced it up to his smartlink, putting it on the cluttered unit to cover the door whilst he was jacked in.
He shut the door to and flicked the switch to the "locked" position.
Sighing heavily, he laid back into the lumpy mattress and un-spooled his data cable, slotting it into the top of his deck, it's protective case worn and chipped. He booted it up and felt the rush of the transition to hotsim, the datawave tingling at his motor cortex, his muscles trembling slightly at the subtle over stimulation.
In a mili-second he relaxed into it, accepting the digital world as his reality.
He looked at his avatar, spinning it around in his minds eye. Picking the featureless mannequin, he dialed up the glow setting to max, a blazing aura of green lighting up the reflective "surface" of his features.
He opened a terminal to his smart gun lying on the bedside table, slaving its camera feed to a hovering transparent window just to his right.
Firing up his analysis tools from his software suite, he engaged it onto the tool suite on his left arm and ran some cursory diagnostics on the host.
-
[14SEP2075 0952 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Tarislar]
Harrier tensed up when Morgan asked if he was from Britain. His past with the Lord Protector's Office would likely be frowned down upon by any shadowrunner worth his or her bullets. Get a grip, Nigel, it's not like you can hide the accent, he thought to himself. With false enthusiasm, he replied, "You've got a sharp ear there, Morgan. I'm from London, East End to be precise. Anyway, just give me a ring when you get everything set-up. I think a rotating cycle between the Wasp and the drones should work well, given my fuel. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and head back up top to start the Eye Spys on their first area sweep." With a mental command, the rigger recalled his Eye Spys and placed them back into the sleeve, slinging it over his back.
Calling out to the rest of the group, Harrier said, "I'm heading up top to check on my kit and get the drones started on their sweeps." With that the dwarf walked to the side opening and slowly climbed the ladder to the roof of the car. Before returning to the Wasp, the rigger inspected each of the Roto-Drones, wiping ash away from their sensor arrays and checking that their armaments were still clear. Satisfied, he released the Eye Spys again and sent the five drones off to set-up a 100 meter pentacle formation perimeter around the train, each of the drones forming a point of the pentacle with two drones to the front and one to the rear. As slow as this sodding train is moving, I doubt anyone is going to be forced to attack it from the rear.
With his initial perimeter established, Harrier hopped into the cockpit of the Wasp and closed the canopy. He settled down considerably once securely inside the machine. Opening up five AR windows, he examined the feeds provided to him by his drones.
-
Being a man of less talk and more action, Cutter has been spending most of his time keeping an eye on the left-hand side of this caravan of sorts from the back of his Mirage. Adjusting the breather mask he's wearing for protection from the ash in the air, he muses quietly to himself, "Whoever these people are wanting protection from must either be well-equipped, highly skilled or both to warrant the cost of hiring this kind of extra security. Ah, well. Money's money."
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Moving out of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan:
You settle comfortably into VR and find yourself outside the host…a graphical representation of what you presume looks like one of the circus tents when this joint sets up shop. It’s more like a tepee than a traditional red and white big top but it matches images you pulled off the ‘trix when you found you’d be working for the circus. Now, to see if the marks they provided you with are legit or another way for you to get in trouble…
Inside you find yourself on the side of a vertiginous mountain, the night air heavily laden with the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle. Stars grace the firmament and provide more than adequate light for the impossibly steep path that snakes back and forth across lacy bridges and next to vast and shrouded cliffs. Somewhere above you there is a castle, an odd mix of eastern Buddhist temple and Arabian palace with traces of fantasy elven. If it’s representative of the make-up of the circus no wonder they are a little chaotic…impressive though, they’ve not stinted on the programming skill to render the scene in vivid detail, particularly through your HotSIM interface…
Two sinuous coiling eastern dragons with a swarm of aerial creatures around them clearly represent the convoy's connection to the host, other than that it is pretty quiet with very few personas interacting with it at the moment, presumably they are all still getting settled in for the ride and haven't got time for frivolity yet...
@Ghost:
<<@Torrent [Ghost]: This is Ghost, one of your runners. I'll just be honest with you. I need a hell of a lot more information than you've given us. I already thought it was a little extreme, but then I found out you sent in god damn air support? What the fuck are we defending against? Judging by the size of our team, this circus must be a lot more valuable than we thought, so who are we suspecting will attack this? We cannot do anything but the most basic of security, because we have no idea what we have to be able to stop. I would rather come out of this alive, and I'm sure the rest of my team would agree with me, so if you want no fragups, better give us some more information, or I don't think this circus, or us, are going to get out of here alive. This is not a threat, but if you want your reputation to remain untarnished, you got to give your team a little more info to protect our charges. Otherwise, I have no choice but to conclude we are sitting ducks out here.
Adios Señor Torrent, I expect to hear from you soon.>>
<<@Ghost/Team [Torrent]: I assure you I don’t believe in sending runners in blind. You aren’t there as a sacrificial offering, runners are too valuable for that sort of crap and I wouldn’t maintain the rep I’ve built in Europe by organising suicide missions. I was contracted by Oblique to provide protection through the Puyallup barrens, your numbers are a factor of who I could pull in with the stipulated time frame and the sheer length of the convoy. Given the nature of the terrain as I understand it eyes in the sky seemed worthwhile and Harrier was available.
I’ve worked with the Circus before and I understand your frustration at dealing with their oddities but I expect a professional such as yourself to be able to deal with that. They haven’t identified a specific threat to me and they have hired runners for other hazardous stretches of terrain where they are unlikely to be able to call in the authorities for assistance so it’s hardly unusual. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a specific threat but I would advise you to talk to Oblique directly if you can pin him down long enough.
If I can offer other assistance then please ask, I find it is mutually beneficial to be as open as possible and it is refreshing to be taken to task but don’t take the piss omae and remember who you are talking to!>>
@Luz:
Making your way back through the train you make cursory, but highly detailed, observations of the inhabitants and their eccentric costumes, elaborate sets and spartan living accommodation...
@Al:
"Seems like a helluva lot o' headache fer a one day run. What genius done picked this route anyway?"
Frank grins back at you, spitting the swirling ash out of his mouth as he catches a gust from the open window and scratches at an itch on his stubble laden face
“This shit is nothing, you should have been with us when we went to Moscow! Now there’s some hostile terrain up there I can tell you! This crap is easy, we just glide on over the ash and flatten it down nice for the good folks in their bitty little trailers in the back..."
@Leaflock:
You are accosted by a tall gentleman with spare frame and shocking white hair. He is wearing a dark grey leather longcoat buttoned tight to the underside of a square chin and at his wrist you catch a telltale glimpse of something that can only be some sort of focus
"You are handling our metaphysical security ya? Oblique asked me to talk to you and offer assistance...I am William Zeiss..."
@Bittorrent & Flicker:
You finally corner Oblique making a jog for the admin area once the convoy is finally under steam…steam would probably be faster in fact…the harried dwarf has lost the top hat somewhere and is mopping the persistent ash off his face
"You are settled in and ready for our journey? Yes, I suppose I can answer some questions...please come inside where we can breath and I will answer what I can..."
Leading you along a companionway beside the admin area he takes you to a poky office with not much more than a matrix terminal and a distressed easy chair which has obviously served as his bed once too often
"Come in, come in, there's not much room but it's private and that can't always be said for the rest of the convoy. So, you are curious why I have hired you? It is not unusual for us to do so when we are travelling in areas like the barrens, as Tarislar was our last port of call we have little choice but to cross here, particularly as we would like to avoid the worst of the check points that frequent more used border crossings. It is not just the time taken for customs to deal with a convoy like ours, there are certain areas of the train where it would be better for all if they did not stumble across, bribes will only go so far after all...smuggle is an ugly word, no? But I suppose it best describes some of our financial transactions... listen to me harping on, that isn't relevant to now. I asked Torrent to provide a competent mix of individuals because our Seer has identified a confrontation in our future. She is suitably vague about the whole thing, that's seers for you, but she's clear enough that if we reach the border then the threat will have passed. I considered taking a faster route to Fort Lewis but she insisted we go this way...she's been wrong before of course but still, magic is one of the things I don't believe in messing with...you could meet her if you like? Is there anyone else you want to talk to? I'm sure your decker has pulled up a manifest of the troupe by now and I have told people to cooperate, let me know if they don't..." and from the steel in his voice you can see why he is loosely in charge of this motley crew
@Harrier:
From the comfort of your VR control console you scrutinise the feeds coming in from your bobbing drones. Visibility is crap and getting worse, almost reminds you of the London smog, and you are relying more and more on the other plethora of sensors at your disposal. It's going to make spotting incoming hostiles that much harder and more or less negate the fact that you are out in the open away from your comfortable high rises and their turbulent wind sheers. The ash is laden with static and you can't wait for the inevitable lightening...at least the shielding on the drones is holding up and with your scrubbers the noise isn't too much bother...
@Cutter:
Out on the flank you are buzzed by one of the circus' outriders until the orc, swathed in desert style leathers and face mask, decides you are either part of the new security or otherwise not a threat...
-
[14SEP2075 1000 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
With the drones sensor feeds showing nothing particularly out of the ordinary, at least not any more out of the ordinary than a volcano-blasted, ash-filled, urban wasteland, Harrier figured it safe enough to hit VR. Pulling the data cable out from the Liegelord, the rigger connected it to the rigger interface of the Wasp. Mentally turning on the helicopter's electrical systems, the dwarf slipped his consciousness into the aircraft. His senses flooded with foreign inputs, he carefully examined the feeds from his drones before accessing his communication system.
>>L'Ombre Zep, this is Harrier. Come in, L'Ombre Zep.
The wind slightly buffeted him as he waited for a response, his sensors scanning the tracks and ash cloud left by the massive wheels of the convoy trains.
>>Harrier, this is L'Ombre Zep. Go ahead, over.
That was pretty punctual, the rigger thought to himself, at least they're not sleeping up there.
>>Alright L'Ombre Zep, not sure if you blokes caught the sigs of the drones I sent out, but I've got something of a sensor net up. Does the zeppelin have a sensor suite that I can I add to the feeds I'm pulling from the drones? The more eyes the better, my mum always said.
Harrier figured he would have to wait for a response to that one. No telling if whoever was captaining that ship was at the controls or not. As he waited a new message icon streaked into the helicopter icon representing him on the Matrix, showing something new from Torrent. Calling it up, he mentally chuckled at the amiable dressing down Ghost received, but did think it somewhat poor form to send the entire response to the team. What an American thing to do... the dwarf thought to himself, awaiting the reply from the zeppelin. With a few seconds on his hand, he sends a message to Morgan and BitTorrent.
<<@Morgan/BT [Harrier] Checking with the zeppelin to see if they have a sensor feed to add to our net. I'll let you know.>>
-
BT follows Oblique and Flicker into the cramped room. Once they have both seated themselves, he attempts to fold him self into a corner... and gives up, and just stands. Inadvertantely towering over everyone in the room.
To make up for his looming presence, he speaks softly. "Thank you for both your time and the explanation Oblique. We understand how busy you are keeping the chaos here at least somewhat contained. Could you elaborate slightly on the nature of the, lets call them 'goods,' that might be causing certain parties to look less favorably upon this fine establishment?"
He sees the response from Torrent in his AR feed and nods to himself. Well, that explains a little bit. Added to what Oblique has said it makes more sense than our imaginations.
"Meeting your seer could be rather... eye opening." He says with his broad golden grin. "It would be nice to possibly figure out if I've a few hours to make some preperations."
<<<@Team[Bittorent]: Oblique has confirmed what Torrent said, and was nice enough to mention they are carting a decent amount of contraban of some sort. Guessing that's what folks will be after. >>>
<<<@Morgan[Bittorent]: I'll join you in the host shortly, lets check out the manifests and see who/what they say are on this thing.>>>
-
“Moscow, eh? Never been. But I near ta caught y’all in Taipei, back in ’69. Was onna oil rig inna Spratlys, had some furlough comin’, scored the tix from a net-scalper in Hanoi. Always wanted to see y’all. Then the damned weekly shuttle was a no show an’ ol’ Al spent the week drinkin’ Jack ta old Seattle Star flats.”
“Oh, man, I love those. The one where they take down those eco freaks...oh yeah!”
“Eco freaks...right, the ones tryin’ ta frame Aztechnology’s animal rescue charity - hell, I was reachin’ fer muh ‘link ta donate ta the Big A before I realized the blamed show was thirty years old.”
“Yeah, that was early days for the Star. I was just a kid, but I loved that show. Sergeant Rico, he was my hero, man. But it’s K-E here now, right?”
“Shore as keebs shit green. An’ none the better fer it.”
“Too sad, man. But it sucks you missed the ‘69 tour - seminal year, that.”
“You been with the circus that long?”
“Hell, Ty and I, we’ve been whipping this beast along for, what is it buddy?”
“Higher than you can count, breeder,” responded the troll, determined to remain surly.
“About sixteen years, I guess. It’s a good gig, never dull.”
“So you take these rigs everywhere?”
“Everywhere, man, even roll ‘em right onto the boats.”
“Put ‘em on one Super Panamax?”
“That’s it. Hey you said you drove these?”
And they were hooked. Fifteen minutes later, Al knew all he needed to about their maintenance protocols, and he had a pretty good idea what he might do with the power plant if push came to shove. More important, once he had shown them he knew the ropes, they didn’t think too long before giving him the access codes to both rigs.
Steering the conversation to security, he was unsurprised by what he heard. It sounded a bit sloppy even for him, though, and he figured Ghost would pitch a regular fit.
Tyrone had warmed up a bit, but now he was coughing and looking annoyed - the cab was getting pretty dusty, and he broke off the conversation so they could button up.
Then he recorded a voice message and sent it to the team: “Reckon they take these trains ever’where they go, an’ they ain’t much ta surprise ‘bout the rout nor takin’ on extra hands when crossin’ rough ground. No partickaler threats that these fellers know of. Oblique’s the boss far as they’s concerned, an’ they got no knowledge nohow ‘bout higher up the food chain. Things go south, they safeguard the performers first, then other folk, with property protection dead last. Ta do this, however, they got no plan whatsoever. Jist make it up as they go ‘long, but ‘bout whatcha’d expect from a bunch o’ ar-tistes. Reckon these things’ll run a mite faster inna pinch, an’ ol’ Al kin likely git ‘em flyin’ ‘long ‘round three-oh em-pee-aitch, should the need arise an’ ya don’t mind bein’ grounded thereafter. Attachin’ the access an’ ignition codes fer both rigs if’n anyone needs ‘em. Stay frosty.”
Feeling a bit exhausted after all that work, Al sat down on the big running board and tried to think of a way to smoke with a wet bandanna across his face.
-
@Ghost:
<<@Torrent [Ghost]: This is Ghost, one of your runners. I'll just be honest with you. I need a hell of a lot more information than you've given us. I already thought it was a little extreme, but then I found out you sent in god damn air support? What the fuck are we defending against? Judging by the size of our team, this circus must be a lot more valuable than we thought, so who are we suspecting will attack this? We cannot do anything but the most basic of security, because we have no idea what we have to be able to stop. I would rather come out of this alive, and I'm sure the rest of my team would agree with me, so if you want no fragups, better give us some more information, or I don't think this circus, or us, are going to get out of here alive. This is not a threat, but if you want your reputation to remain untarnished, you got to give your team a little more info to protect our charges. Otherwise, I have no choice but to conclude we are sitting ducks out here.
Adios Señor Torrent, I expect to hear from you soon.>>
<<@Ghost/Team [Torrent]: I assure you I don’t believe in sending runners in blind. You aren’t there as a sacrificial offering, runners are too valuable for that sort of crap and I wouldn’t maintain the rep I’ve built in Europe by organising suicide missions. I was contracted by Oblique to provide protection through the Puyallup barrens, your numbers are a factor of who I could pull in with the stipulated time frame and the sheer length of the convoy. Given the nature of the terrain as I understand it eyes in the sky seemed worthwhile and Harrier was available.
I’ve worked with the Circus before and I understand your frustration at dealing with their oddities but I expect a professional such as yourself to be able to deal with that. They haven’t identified a specific threat to me and they have hired runners for other hazardous stretches of terrain where they are unlikely to be able to call in the authorities for assistance so it’s hardly unusual. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t a specific threat but I would advise you to talk to Oblique directly if you can pin him down long enough.
If I can offer other assistance then please ask, I find it is mutually beneficial to be as open as possible and it is refreshing to be taken to task but don’t take the piss omae and remember who you are talking to!>>
One of these days my attitude is going to get me killed. Probably very soon. At least he seems to be as much in the dark as we are.
Ghost chuckles to himself and replies.
Recipient: Torrent
Sender: Ghost
Mis disculpas, Señor Torrent.
Having to coordinate with 7 paranoid runners who are all half a second away from shooting someone has set me on edge. When you sent in the air support, our first thought was that it was an attack. After we received his message, I could see all of us seriously reconsidering the difficulties of this job. We definitely do not like flying in blind. Needless to say, everyone here is a little tense; we've all felt the harsh pain of betrayal before.
Knowing that the you understand the oddities we have to face at the Circus has greatly eased my mind. My associates are already on their way to question Oblique, but knowing that we are not the only ones in the dark is better than nothing.
We need no other assistance, you have been very helpful to us. I have no doubt that we will be able to guard this Circus. Sí, Señor, I remember who I am talking to; the Orc who rightfully put me in my place!
<<<@Team[Bittorent]: Oblique has confirmed what Torrent said, and was nice enough to mention they are carting a decent amount of contraban of some sort. Guessing that's what folks will be after. >>>
Well, I guess we know what we're protecting. Still doesn't give us anything to really work with.
Ghost tries to sit still but finds he has way too much energy to burn and starts walking the train.
Damn, this is going to be a long wait.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Moving out of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Leaflock:
You are accosted by a tall gentleman with spare frame and shocking white hair. He is wearing a dark grey leather longcoat buttoned tight to the underside of a square chin and at his wrist you catch a telltale glimpse of something that can only be some sort of focus
"You are handling our metaphysical security ya? Oblique asked me to talk to you and offer assistance...I am William Zeiss..."
"I am indeed, Leaf is the name Mr Zeiss, or should I say Herr Zeiss?" Leaf raises an eyebrow in a friendly question.
"If you can offer some insights into this strange little troupe that you have that would be extremely helpful. As you may be aware, we've been asked to tag along on your journey at the last minute and many of us have not yet been fully briefed on what we might be needed for. I myself, am here strictly to provide medical assistance should it be required."
A little white lie never hurt anyone...
-
Flicker thanks Oblique for the information and ask for directions to the seer's car. With a quick bow flicker departs to the seer's car.
BT Would you like to go to the seer's car with me?
When out of ear shot of Oblique, Maybe she can give us a idea where the attack will be focused and we can figure out what they are trying to take. Plus I am sure she will have information on the circus members as well, just can't be sure how accurate it will be.
On the way to the seer Flicker thinks this is like a repeat of training, remember you don't have to see the attack for it to be so. Use your senses smell it, feel it, hear it be one with your surroundings and you will know. Expand your senses trust your training it will not fail you. And you will not fail me or your training you will show why your training is superior. The Old Man was so old world and you knew he meant every word.
When we are at the door I will knock and allow BT to enter first and quietly slip in behind him standing in the shadows and listen to what us said.
Flicker gives the seer a slight bow.
-
<<<@Team[Bittorent]: Oblique has confirmed what Torrent said, and was nice enough to mention they are carting a decent amount of contraban of some sort. Guessing that's what folks will be after. >>>
<<<@Morgan[Bittorent]: I'll join you in the host shortly, lets check out the manifests and see who/what they say are on this thing.>>>
//Got it, I'm in now//
Morgan quickly checked the translucent terminal of the smartgun's camera feed to see if anyone was troubling his meat body before progressing,
He kicked off from the mountain side, aiming for the beautifully rendered castle as he took flight in the cool "air" that tugged at the limbs of his avatar.
He pointed his left arm at it, the glowing blue analysis suite went to work, characterising it's code and purpose.
matrix perception on "castle" (13d6.hits(5)=5) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4648318/)
-what is it's role/purpose?
-what are it's ratings?
-is it encrypted?
-
[14SEP2075 1010 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Harrier's body lay comatose as his persona icon soared around the Matrix, periodically checking up on the small device icons of his drones. So far so good, he thought to himself. As he checked on the last drone, another message icon streaked towards his persona, this one from BT. Reviewing it would have sent shivers up the dwarf's spine had not been slumped over like a rag doll in the real world.
Contraband, huh? he mused, I'll bet... Harrier thought back to all the things he had ever read and heard about the Cirque de l'Ombre over the years. Some people swore they were smugglers, which sounds like this Oblique bloke had just confirmed. If that was true... then what about all the other things?
Dark and terrible stories claimed the Cirque were powerful shadow spirits that fed on the emotions their daring acts produced. Even more sinister, there were claims that, for a fee, the performers could make one's darkest dreams come true. If so, what kind of banquet would that be for these shadow beasts? Harrier started to gulp before realizing that he didn't have the physical capacity for it at the moment.
Even with all these dark stories swirling through his head, the rigger had learned long ago that there were too many skeptics in the world. He was not about to share his concerns with the rest of his team, lest they think him daft. They wouldn't believe him, at least not until it was too late, no one ever believed him until it was too late. What he would do, however, was keep a sharp eye on the people he was guarding. Grumpily, he thought, The last thing I need is some shadow beast turning my feelings into lunch!
-
Looking to Flicker BT responds, "I'm not that experienced with the mystics and future predicting, but from what I've heard they tend to lack on specifics. Still worth a chat. Lets see what the lady has to say."
As Flicker holds the door, BT ducks into the small room and introduces himself to the Seer, "Hello Madam, they call me Bittorrent and my associate here goes by Flicker. Oblique said that we should come speak with you." As he says this, he extends his massive hand gently with his trademark golden smile.
-
Luz strutted through the length of the train to get some familiarity with it and it's occupants.
The passenger portion of the train consisted of four cars of coffin-motel-sized, roughly rectangular 'bedtubes', stacked two high, laying perpendicular to their travel. At one the end of the car is a small closet-like restroom, the other end consisted of storage for items that couldn't fit inside the bedtubes or in a small storage space underneath the lower one. A pathway ran along one side of the car.
The rear three cars were packed with burly, rough men, several orcs, and one troll who had moved into a storage area at the end of a car, too big to fit into a bedtube. Already the stench of too many people living together was present, the troupe having traveled together before hiring the runners. Small particles of ashen silt, kicked up from the motion of the convoy and defying the poor filtration units of the cars, wafted through the air and clung to everything.
The noise of conversations drew down as she passed, the men staring at the cyber-laden woman. She squeezed past a particularity tall orc, who grunted and smiled. She felt her ballistic skirt move, looked down and saw that the orc’s hand had found its way into the split that exposed the side of her upper leg, was now resting on her metallic buttock
Luz stopped, looking up to the orc and returned his smile. The orc chuckled softly as Luz ran her metallic left hand up the man’s chest, stopping to hold back the side of his exposed neck.
Suddenly, the orc tensed up, his back arched and his eyes rolled back into his head before falling limply to the ground. The other men stared quietly for a moment at the dazed orc.
The car erupted in laughter. Luz turned and continued towards the front of the train; the remaining men moving against the walls to allow her passage.
¥
Next was a car consisting of two parts common rooms, and one part closet-like showers, clearly not designed with orcs or trolls in mind. The rooms were mostly packed with gear or sleeping passengers; including a couple more trolls and a minotaur.
There were roughly enough beds in the forward passenger car to house the performers, or what Luz assumed to be the performers, since their bodies were lither and more toned than those in the other cars.
The lights were dimmer in this car, almost to the point of requiring Luz to use the low-light in her cybereyes.
“Ugh, this ash is terrible! “ Someone complained softly. “It’s everywhere!”
“We’ll be out of it soon enough…get some rest.” A deep voice responded.
“I need a shower; hopefully the help hasn’t clogged the drains already”
“There’s no point until we leave Puyallup”
“Excuse me” A new voice said to Luz from one of the nearby tubes.
She turned to see a female elf with strikingly unusual black skin and long grey hair looking at her horizontally, just below eye-level.
“Are you new? Because if you aren’t, you know your bed is back there.”
Luz turned on her enhanced vision to see who was addressing her. “I’m not the normal ‘help’.”
“Yeah well, we don’t appreciate the kind of help you bring here,” the dark woman said, looking at the assault rifle hanging from Luz’s shoulder, “this is our home.”
Luz adjusted the settings on her voice modulator to give her voice a softer, sweeter tone, “You don’t have that luxury, because your home is moving through other’s home, and they might not like that.”
“Well I don’t care what they think…we are here to entertain, and we hardly have anything of value”
“Leave her alone” The deep voice said as his two hard hooves hit the floor. “She’s just doing her job that Oblique hired her for.”
Luz looked at the voice to see that this one was a Satyr, with thin, swept horns and the hair on his legs dyed black.
Luz silently moved forward to the prime mover, where she found a ladder leading to the roof.
-
[14SEP2075 1011 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
In the matrix, Harrier checked his internal chronograph. It's been 10 ticks since I asked about the zeppelin's sensors and still no response? Those blokes must be fragging off up there... Annoyed and wanting to "stretch his legs," the dwarf started spinning the Wasp's rotors. In short order, the little helicopter was hovering over the land train, plumes off ash blasting away from the rotorwash, causing a small brownout (or grayout as the case may be) in the area below. Gaining altitude to not unduly trouble the groundpounders, Harrier ran a quick kilometer perimeter patrol, before settling in to hover near the zeppelin. Training his sensors on the bridge of the airship, he sent another message.
>>L'Ombre Zep, this is Harrier. About those sensors?
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Moving out of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Bittorrent & Flicker:
"Hello Madam, they call me Bittorrent and my associate here goes by Flicker. Oblique said that we should come speak with you."
The vast lady reclining on a mound of cushions before you giggles, a mellow but oddly childlike sound, and extends her pudgy hand to grasp yours. Her skin is warm and silken and strangely compelling. She is swathed in a dark grey silk bedecked with stars in silver thread that through some digital trickery seem to evolve and burst like the universe in fast forward
“'ello gorgeous” and her prodigious bulk wobbles again as she laughs “Come into me little 'ouse and we cin see why Oblique sent you to ‘ole Meg” the Cockney accent sounds strange issuing from this bizarre form but is somehow comforting in its warmth "always nice to git guests 'ere, let's see what we can see..."
"Meg! Stop that, stop teasing our guests..."The newcomer is a little girl, anywhere between eight and ten, dressed in a simple off white dress with bare feet, her smile is serene as she turns to you both "I am sorry about Meg, Oblique sent you to me? You want to know what I've seen..." it is a statement rather than a question
"'caws they want to know what you seen deerie, they all want that, 'till they hear it, 'en dey ain't so keen" and with a quiet cackle the fat lady simple vanishes
"I am sorry, she likes to tease, there's no harm in her. Please come in...you want to know about today..."
@Morgan:
As the journey fully gets underway the mountainside begins to be populated by a ream of personae as the performers and other members of the troupe log on. A brief check on the logs shows you that most are using the host as a doorway to the matrix at large, venturing to the citadel above and launching themselves into the ether via the satellite uplinks maintained on the zep hovering above your meat somewhere...
@Ghost / Luz / Al / Cutter:
Each in your own way you settle in to observe, ignoring the ash as a minor irritation. The wind is picking up but Al is secure on the running boards in the lead cab whilst Luz is near the head of the second train amongst the tarp covered canvases that presumably house the tents for the performances.
Although the wind makes it difficult to discern an exact direction you all pick up on the full throated roar of the heavy hogs in the distance...
@Leaflock:
"You are handling our metaphysical security ya? Oblique asked me to talk to you and offer assistance...I am William Zeiss..."
"I am indeed, Leaf is the name Mr Zeiss, or should I say Herr Zeiss?
If you can offer some insights into this strange little troupe that you have that would be extremely helpful. As you may be aware, we've been asked to tag along on your journey at the last minute and many of us have not yet been fully briefed on what we might be needed for. I myself, am here strictly to provide medical assistance should it be required."
"Do not come to me for briefing, I am not going to waste my time trying to describe this rabble! It is as you see, chaos walking, dancing, strutting, whatever. There is beauty in it, in the chaos, but it is not something for forming into words, ya? That chaos fuels the universe, so perhaps this is a little microcosm, ya? A reflection on the world we live in? But if you are merely here to heal I suppose that my brother and I will need to handle things as usual, it is typical of Oblique, he wilfully ignores our needs..."
@Harrier:
<<@Morgan/BT [Harrier] Checking with the zeppelin to see if they have a sensor feed to add to our net. I'll let you know.>>
>>@L'Ombre Zep: this is Harrier. About those sensors?
But it is your own thermal sensors on drone one, out near the head of the convoy, that detect the riders inbound. Heavy bikes, Yamaha Akiras, a couple of Harley Scorpions, ten in total riding down the 161 towards you. Although natural visibility is now crap if they have any kind of thermal then they cannot fail to have spotted the heat signatures approaching them...
>>@Harrier: Zep here, I'm meshing you in now, nothing in the skies apart from your own birds, but you'll have seen the fraggers on the road ahead...
-
[14SEP2075 1012 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
>>Roger that, L'Ombre Zep, Thanks for the eyes, chappers. Looks like I need to earn my pay. Harrier, Out.
Harrier immediately sent a message to the team.
<<@Team [Harrier] Alright blokes, time to look alive. 10 contacts inbound from the North, the ash is interfering with my distance calculations... but they're close. Looks like a go-gang. Heavy bikes, no sign of weapons yet. I'm in the air, rearranging the drones to cover our flanks and rear in case of an ambush.>>
The rigger sent a mental command to his five Eye Spys, rearranging their positions so that two were located on the mid-flank of each land train and one was covering the rear. As fragile and expensive as they were, the dwarf didn't see any reason to risk them in a fight. With a separate mental command, he ordered the Roto-Drones to start spooling up their rotors.
-
As Ghost wandered the trains, he noticed the piercing gazes of the performers. His augmented hearing easily picked up the whispers. He pauses a second to listen.
"The guy is walking around with a shotgun in his hands, who does he think he is?"
"He doesn't even look alive; it's like he's just a machine."
"Shh, I think he hears us. I don't want to have to talk to him if I don't have to."
Ghost ignores their comments and keeps moving.
Harrier immediately sent a message to the team.
<<@Team [Harrier] Alright blokes, time to look alive. 10 contacts inbound from the North, the ash is interfering with my distance calculations... but they're close. Looks like a go-gang. Heavy bikes, no sign of weapons yet. I'm in the air, rearranging the drones to cover our flanks and rear in case of an ambush.>>
About damn time something happened. I don't know how much longer I could have kept listening to these ignorant performers.
Recipients: Team
Sender: Ghost
Understood. On my way.
As Ghost moves his way North, he spots the hostiles that Harrier mentioned. As he cycles through his vision options he thinks, Let's see what's going on here.
-
//Got it, paint em up in ARO for the others if you've got the time. I'll see if I can freag with their shit a bit//
Morgan flicks the host into "alert" mode and instructs it to launch 3 IC to secure the I/O ports before loading up his attack suite....
Game on.
Reconfigure deck for attack:
Attack 7 / Firewall 6/ DP 5 / sleaze 4
Programs:
-Hammer (+2DV)
-Decryption (+1Attack rating)
-Fork (attack multiple with single action)
-Virtual Machine:
-Signal scrub (-2 noise)
-Armour (+2 resist)
Matrix perception to find biker's icons:
computer 5, log 6, hot sim 2 (13d6.hits(5)=3) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4654010/)
Initiative test for combat order:
data processing 5, int 4, + 4d6 (4d6=12) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4654014/) = ini 21
Complex action:
Data spike, forked on two nearest motorbike icons:
log 6, cybercombat 6, hot sim 2 (14d6.hits(5)=6) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4654021/)
DV10 + net hits
-
Hearing Harrier's message, Al tapped on the window, showed ten fingers, then indicated eyes forward. Frank nodded, game face on.
Next the little man used the exterior ladder and ascended to the roof of the cab, unlimbered his Remington and assumed a prone firing position facing the threat. Go-gangers. He swapped armor-piercing rounds into his magazine.
He double-clicked the send button on his comm to acknowledge Ghost's message - let the head honcho do all the talking. Al was happy to provide back up in case things went south. Then his 'link translated the hacker's text to voice in his earbud and he reckoned the chances of things getting interesting had just doubled.
-
BT grins down at the small figure before him. Just as he's readjusting his concepts of the sitation he recieves the message from Harrier. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to excuse myself while we deal with some portion of what you've seen. I'm sure this will only take a few moments. Do you mind if make myself comfortable for a moment?"
With that, he helps himself to a seat, and drops into VR.
As he moves his conciousness into the Matrix his body relaxes and his mind stretches finally free of the meat. Ironically, his icon match his physical form almost precisely, the only difference being he moves barefoot through the matrix.
Bittorrent begins to weave strands of the Resonance together, stiching bits of code together into an amalgamation of concepts wrapped together forming a robot like entity. He welcomes it to the Matrix and asks it to cause mischief amongst the motorcycles approaching the train.
-
Luz dons her ballistic mask; a custom work in in a Venetian style, ordained with sensors and lenses in a manner to give it a somewhat arachnid look. She also activates her Ruthenium Polymer coating on her armor as she pulls over her ballistic hood and throat protection.
Crouching low, she readies the assault rifle and sends out a message to the team: >>Get ready! We are only going to be polite once.<<
Luz activates the vision enhancements in her cybereyes as well as the sensors in her mask. She then boosts the volume on her voice modulator to the maximum of 100 decibels, yelling a message to the oncoming formation when they get within earshot, "Turn away now or be fired upon!"
She takes aim at the lead biker.
-
//Got it, paint em up in ARO for the others if you've got the time. I'll see if I can freag with their shit a bit//
Damn. Hopefully he doesn't brick any of their stuff before we determine if their hostile.
Ghost brings up the new message in commlink.
Crouching low, she readies the assault rifle and sends out a message to the team: >>Get ready! We are only going to be polite once.<<
He barely has a chance to read it before he hears.
Luz activates the vision enhancements in her cybereyes as well as the sensors in her mask. She then boosts the volume on her voice modulator to the maximum of 100 decibels, yelling a message to the oncoming formation when they get within earshot, "Turn away now or be fired upon!"
She takes aim at the lead biker.
So much for being fucking camoflauged and not draw attention to ourselves. I have to admit, I do like her idea of diplomacy ...
Sighing, Ghost activates the Ruthenium Polymer Coating on his armor and fades from view as the sensors acclimate to his surroundings. He pulls out his sniper rifle and aims down the barrel.
-
[14SEP2075 1015 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
With the messages from his teammates coming in response to his report, Harrier took the opportunity to steady the Wasp and position himself in front of the zeppelin, aware that the lighter-than-air vehicle would probably be less capable of defending itself.
Reading Morgan's message, the dwarf thought, Bloody Hell! Maybe we could have found out what these blokes wanted first? Mentally shrugging, Harrier glanced to make sure that the Valiant was on-line.
-
As he rode beside the caravan train, Cutter begins thinking to himself how light the activity in the area has been so far--especially for Puyallup. On catching the throaty growl of bikes in the distance, however, he puts on the gas, trying to control the bike with one hand as he pulls his Colt Government, and heads in that direction, trying to get a better view of what's up ahead.
-
Ghost takes a few seconds to look over the bikers, and then sets his sights on what looks like their leader.
He messages to the team.
Recipients: Team
Sender: Ghost
I've got them in my sights; waiting for confirmation on the kill.
-
Luz takes a moment before the bikers respond and uses her implanted commlink to compose a text to Oblique and Torrent; as well as cc'ing the team:
>> Company is incoming, are you expecting anyone? If not, take cover. <<
-
On receiving the message from Ghost, Cutter says into his subvocal microphone, transmitting to the rest of the security team, "I'm en route to intercept."
-
Al spoke into his commlink, which was still on voice-to-text: <<Or…we could ask questions first an' shoot later. Ten lousy bikes ain't much threat, but piss off the Ancients fer hosin' down a buncha their compadres jist headed south ta Tarislar fer a keeb jamboree, then we got ourselves somethin' ta worry 'bout. But don't mind ol' Al. Reckon I'll shoot who I'm told.>>
-
Replying over comms, Cutter says <<Gotta get close to 'em to find out what they're about.>>
-
Having been in the business for a little while now, BT isn't so much surprised by the anarchy of the group as slightly dissappointed.
Once the sprite finishes compiling, he sends a message to the group.
<<<@Team [Bittorrent] Lets have someone offer to look at those bikes we just bricked and see if we can offer some assistance. Play this off as helping hand situation. Everyone is on eggshells right now but we can back off of this fairly simply.>>>
<<<@Morgan [Bittorrent] Lets hold off on any more harm for a quick parley with them?>>>
All the while, he's making ARO's of where devices are moving and sending the stream to the team.
-
Flicker watches the young woman talking and sees BT sit to enter the matrix, I reach back and lock the door watching the girl.
Please excuse me, but I can not have someone walking in while my companion is indisposed. Please feel free to tell me what you see as far as the biker gang coming up on us.
Message received, currently guarding BT as he is indisposed, gathering Intel on the gang will update as soon as possible.
Welcome back BT was just watching over you while she prepares to tell me what she sees about the bikers.
Slipping the blade in my hand back into the hidden arm sheath as BT returns to the common reality of us non electron jockeys.
-
"Hijueputa!" Luz swore to herself, after turning down her voice volume. Ancients. if this goes bad and the rest of the gang find out, this could end up being a running battle through Seattle. One we don't want, especially moving so slow.
>>Hold up. l'll go over and see what they want. Watch the flankers, and keep an eye out in case these guys are a diversion<<
Using her hydraulic jacks, she gingerly jumps off the train and heads towards the gangers, turning her voice back up and in a different tone.
"Hola, amigos. What seems to be the problem?" She says as she approaches the nearest group.
-
Seeing the cyber-queen step out front for a bit of much-needed diplomacy, Al leaned over off the roof of the cab and pounded on the window. When Frank lowered it, Al said, "Keep the trains moving, but pull yer people up front back ta us'n, give 'er some time ta work somethin' out up there."
Then he returned to his firing position, putting the least girly-looking dandelion-eater right in his crosshairs.
-
Al spoke into his commlink, which was still on voice-to-text: <<Or…we could ask questions first an' shoot later. Ten lousy bikes ain't much threat, but piss off the Ancients fer hosin' down a buncha their compadres jist headed south ta Tarislar fer a keeb jamboree, then we got ourselves somethin' ta worry 'bout. But don't mind ol' Al. Reckon I'll shoot who I'm told.>>
Damn, even I know of the Ancients. Glad I didn't blow the guy's head off. Yet.
>>Hold up. l'll go over and see what they want. Watch the flankers, and keep an eye out in case these guys are a diversion<<
Using her hydraulic jacks, she gingerly jumps off the train and heads towards the gangers, turning her voice back up and in a different tone.
"Hola, amigos. What seems to be the problem?" She says as she approaches the nearest group.
As Ghost sees her walk towards the bikers he mentally texts back;
Recipient: Luz
Sender: Ghost
Watch yourself out there, they outnumber you 10 to 1. I'll watch your back, just give me the signal if your little talk has gone bad.
Ghost takes a deep break and tries to still the sound of the blood rushing through his veins. He mentally sends out a text;
Recipient: Team
Sender: Ghost
Do they actually know it was us who bricked their bikes? Yes, no? Do we have someone who can fix their bikes? If so, we might have a chance at this negotiation thing. Otherwise, we need to do a little bit of planning. We are completely uncoordinated, understandably so, but let's at least lay out tactics. If Luz gives the word that everything's gone to hell, we need to each have a target, or I fear she may not get out of there. I'll send AROs of what little I can see from my position.
Attached AROs: Biker group 1.ARO, Biker group 2.ARO, Bikers' Weapons.ARO
-
Seeing the cybered woman move in toward the bikers, Cutter sends to her <<I got your back. Just say the word if you need me to move in.>>
With that, he turns his bike and tries to stay at a reasonably peaceable distance.
-
[14SEP2075 1020 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Observing the scene through his sensors, Harrier was less than thrilled. Just great! We go and rile up one of the most notorious go-gangs in the sprawl... Glancing through the incoming messages streaking toward his chopper icon, the rigger took note that Morgan had maintained comms silence since he bricked the vehicles. I would too... Figuring he should add something useful to the proceedings, he sent a quick message.
<<@Team [Harrier] I've got a hardware kit in the chopper. If we just need to do a rubbish slap-dash repair on the bikes, it shouldn't take more than an hour to get both back to something that looks like normal, maybe less if someone else helps.>>
Harrier immediately regretted sending the message. The last place he wanted to be in this God-forsaken place was outside, in the ash, and on the ground.
-
[14SEP2075 1020 | A street crossing| Puyallup]
With the faint screech of old brakes the cab came to a halt. It was old, a bit rusty, but still worked well enough and the orc driving it knew, what he was doing. In sight of the front of the huge land train, the door on the right side opened. A rather large man, nearing 1.9 meters height, exited the vehicle, thanked his driver with a warm smile and then went towards the land train. A very well tailored, fine coat (identified as a Mortimer of London Argentum Coat to those with good taste or knowledge), protected him against most of the harsh environment here. The man himself seemed to be nearing his fiftieth year, his hair starting to turn grey in spots, his beard being mostly grey yet. His right hand held a cane, while the left pulled a travelling case behind him.
With a confident smile he closed in on the scene of five bikes meeting a single, cybered up woman. The look on his face made one think if this is excactly, what he expected. He himself felt right home with this sight. Do not let work wait... As it seems, I am not too late by a minute. Thanks again, Joe.
-
The expanse of blue-semi nothingness outside of the host seemed almost barren compared to the beautifully sculpted interior. It was only when friendly Icons blasted past and out into the combat zone that Morgan twigged, he'd gone off half cocked...again...
Get hired to protect a fuckin' convoy, armed biker gang shows up, and we send out the fuckin' welcome comittee? More tea vicar??? dafuck..
//Well shit ladies and gentlemen, this hasn't gone well. Is this large gang of friendly local and well armed bikers, all alone out here in the ash wastes, rapidly closing in on our precious convoy to be trusted/parlayed with/hosed down? please do tell....//
-
"Qué chingados." she curses to herself, seeing the overdressed newcomer, dragging a wheeled suitcase through the ash, head towards the bikers. Luz stops shortly before reaching the Ancients and approaches the businessman, addressing him in a harsh, hushed tone. "Get on the train. I don't know who you are; but, this isn't the place to stop and ask directions."
She pauses, her cyberware scanner reports the newcomer's augmentations. Well, this isn't your average tourist.
-
[14SEP2075 1020 | A street crossing| Puyallup]
The overdressed newcomer smiles warmly and lifts his imaginary tophat. "I have already found, what I was looking for. But thank you anyway, mylady." His English is the most perfect British English she has ever heard. It's probably more correct, than any Brit could speak it. It does not have a hint of accent in it.
He leaves the suitcase standing in the middle of the street and looks calmly at the aproaching Ancients, examining them for anything out of the unusual. After a few moments he turns back to the cybered lady next to him. "I am terribly sorry, where are my manners?" He offers the lady his hand, the palm facing upwards. Does he want to kiss her hand? "My name is Hans Richter, Mr. Torrent asked me to support you in your endeavor to see the Circus safely through Puayalup. I am here as... negotiator, mediator and face of our joint operation." He is still smiling, not caring too much about the approaching Ancients. If the lady had offered her hand, he would have indeed given her a light kiss on the back of the chrome hand.
-
Al pulled his face away from the rifle scope to get a wider view of the sudden turn of events. Wiping ash from his goggles, he shook his head as some dandy-boy codger played Prince Charming to their very own Snow White. If only the Ancients were a dwarf gang it would've been perfect.
But with so many guns around, a fairy tale ending to the day seemed unlikely at best. And he didn't figure Luz for the curtseying type. Remembering his job, he put the lead go-ganger back in his sights, wondering if this gig could possibly be half as weird as the last one.
Well, it was a circus, after all...
-
Luz ignores Richter's advances and pauses for a moment before grabbing his arm and pulling him close and leaning forward towards his ear. "Mira Joto, Our hacker bricked these cabrónes bikes as soon as he saw them. All we want is to avoid pissing off the biggest gang in Seattle, so do your magic so we can get paid."
She turns and heads towards the gang, pulling him briefly before letting go.
"Where's your gun, primo?" She whispers to Richter.
-
Not quite trusting the newcomer, despite the lack of offensive posture from the cyber-woman, Cutter, sitting astride his bike lines up a shot with his pistol aimed at the back of the older man's cranium. He does not fire yet, of course, instead holding off until he sees true evidence of what side he's on.
-
Richter chuckles, as Luz pulls him close. "My, my. Do not get too hasty, mylady." He winks and listens to her words. That does not sound too good. And the Ancients don't look too happy either.
"Let us see, what we can do there... But I must inquire you to accompany me, as I just arrived on scene and am not fully aware of the situation. I bet we can find a way to handle this situation like civilized people." The question for his gun is answered with a light pat on his coat. It is hard to see, wether there is anything beneath it. Probably nothing too big.
Now as Luz can inspect him more closely it becomes obvious, that nothing about his appearance or behavior fit down onto this street. He would fit perfectly into the heart of Downtown or the nicer restaurants. His whole body language speaks of coming out of a golden cage. But nothing in his face hints at the disdain and mistrust the "low lifes" usually get from those born with a silver spoon in mouth.
Richter pauses for a moment, straightens his hair and then starts to walk in the direction of the Ancients, propably expecting his lady companion to follow him. The smile on his face still is unrocked and the five gangers do not seem to frighten him at all. Maybe Torrent sent someone who had absolutely no clue about this world? Let's just hope his tongue is as silver as the cutlery he uses.
-
As the older 'gentleman' starts walking toward the assemblage of Ancients, Cutter refocuses his aim and says over subvocal comms, sending directly to Luz <<Say the word if he does anything hinky, and his skull will be ventilated.>>
-
Ghost sees a new comer just waltz right up to Luz as if he owns the place.
What the hell? Who the fuck is this guy? This plan has seriously gone to hell
Recipient: Team
Sender: Ghost
Luz; I don't know who the hell this new guy is, but if this meeting starts going south, just say the word and we'll get you out of there. Everybody ready to go? This does not look good so far.
-
Transmitting to Ghost:
<<I've got the new guy in my sights. Just waiting to see if he helps or hinders.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Outskirts of Tarislar, Puyallup, Seattle]
The tension is palpable as the well dressed stranger approaches the wary and decidedly hostile gangers. Their guns aren't precisely trained on Richter and Luz but the body language screams the usual mix of mad bravado and fear that is seen in gangers the world over. This lot have the confidence of being part of a huge and powerful entity but out here they are alone and they know it
The apparent leader strips the re-breather off his face to reveal an interesting mix of facial scarring and nanotats
"That's close enough fraggers! This is our road, don't recall anyone asking permission to use it..."
-
As soon as the gangers leader shouts his warning, Richter stops, raises his hand apologetically and lowers his head ever so slightly.
"I am sorry, gentlemen. We did not see you before, as the ash is really messing with our sensors. But now, as we met you, I am sure we can find a deal that benefits both partys and allows us to continue our journey through your.... turf." He smiles friendly, lowers his hands slowly and waits for the leader to react. Usually he would expect a waytoll of sorts. But maybe, repairing the bikes would be enough...
<<Mylady, do we have a budget to pay for inconveniences like this? Is there a way to ask Monsieur Oblique directly?>> This text is sent to any commlink, Luz seems to be using. If there is no identifiable 'Comm, Richter stays silent towards her.
-
[14SEP2075 1025 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Harrier maintained his steady hover. He had been surprised as all Hell when the taxi pulled up out of nowhere, his drone net somehow missing it. He felt a little better when it did not detonate in a ball of fire, but rather dropped off a charming looking gentleman. Grabbing the ARO feeds Luz had offered up, the dwarf was delighted to hear the man actually spoke proper English. Well, this is taking a turn for the better, the dwarf thought to himself, listening in as the conversation continued, but I sure as Hell hope he hasn't spent too much time in London over the past few years...
Checking that his sensor lock was still active, the rigger maintained his position, waiting to see what was going to happen.
-
Luz saw Richter's icon call and accepted it in time to recieve his message.
>>I'll check. But if these cabrones want a tribute, we'll want them to escort us. If it's their road they better guarantee we won't be fucked with. Only then will we help with their mechanical problems<<
Luz then contacts Oblique about forwarding a payment and adds, "we have an option of passing peacefully with more security or being the target of a 9 hour gun battle. Your choice if a couple extra nuyen isn't worth a quiet ride."
She then contacts the team, >>Hackers, I want you to stop their comms from leaving this area. They're isolated out here. Let's keep it that way...for insurance.<<
-
The message from Luz appears in Richter's vision, making him smile internally.
<<I was going to make sure, our contract with the Ancients did not involve any loopholes. I'm not used to working with gangers, but I know the worst kinds of contract lawyers out there... The Ancients should make this ride relatively easy, as no one wants to mess with them. Thank you for the information.>>
"We are willing to pay a passage toll for our ride down this street to the border of Puayalup. But only under the condition that you escort us so that any further members of your gang see that we payed our tolls and so that any outlaws know they would mess witht he Ancients, should they mess with this transport. What do you say?" Again he smiles warmly, starting to go some small steps towards the first of the gangers. "Ten Ancients on their feared combat bikes should be sight that installs fear in any opposition. It would be an easy ride for you and a save one for us."
-
A figure in a business suit gets out of the train and begins walking towards the scene with the gangers. He is wearing a suit that reminds you of a mime without the white face.
After a moment of thought, he looks rather like one of the performers that are part of the caravan. As you were looking over the train, you remember him practicing his mime act. He didn't really seem all that good at it. And here he goes, walking out the door toward an infuriated gang of elven bikers.
Well, at least he is an elf. That should save the idiot for maybe five seconds or so.
-
"Those clowns were boring. They didn't even have any good insults. It's not like I am that good of a mime, but I could tell that I overwhelmed them with my sense of style. " Mr. Pink thought. "Here I am, hired by Oblique to determine if there were any subversives on the train. I haven't found any yet, unless it is that Azzie Mariachi Singer. Except the clowns - The clowns all seem to have ties to the Haloweeners - Oblique did say that they were a cheap addition after his last group of clowns went missing." He starts walking toward the most interesting situation that he has found yet on this job - a group of Ancients who seemed to be angry for some reason. About to attack the Train angry. While that, too, would be interesting, Mr. Pink is NOT getting paid to have the train get shot up. And not getting paid is so boring.
Why would a group of clowns go missing? And why were those Clowns so pushy that I leave them alone. They didn't have to pull guns. That was unprofessional.
He continues to walk towards the confrontation.
-
Flicker appears like it is truly painful to be forced to speak this much.
BT it appears that the problem is changing quickly outside, we may not be able to wait on this kind lady's insight on the gang of bikers who appear to be unhappy with our passing. It seems there are more people joining our ranks as minutes go by. And we might want to get into more favorable positions in case we are needed.
-
As Ghost sees more and more people join Luz through her livefeed, he just shakes his head. We're becoming a veritable circus ourselves; this is getting a little ridiculous.
He mentally sends a text to Luz:
Recipient: Luz
Sender: Ghost
Just mark the guys who are on our side and we'll try not to shoot them. It seems like Torrent is surprising us again.
Perhaps he wasn't impressed with my negotiation with him. I guess it would make sense. As long as none of these newcomers are here to sabotage us, that's fine.
Recipients: Team
Sender: Ghost
Everyone ready if this goes south? I imagine we will know if we are fighting or not within 5 minutes or less. Stay sharp people.
-
Reluctantly, Al took his crosshairs off the lead ganger. The situation had grown too fluid to do his job right without a wider view. The more players took the stage, the more likely someone was going to make a mistake, and when that happened, there wouldn't be time for a damned lot of text-messaging before he had to shoot somebody to keep Luz safe - Luz because she was the only damned person out there he knew was on his side.
He spoke - blazes if they didn't need real voice-comms - a text: <<Joseph an' Mary inna manger, need a fuckin' scorecard out here. Don't know either one o' these new yahoos from Adam, an' ol' Al sees a weapon in either one's hand, he's gon' light the bastard up an' fret 'bout the damned keebs later. Clean the inner vessel first, jist like it says inna Good Book.>>
-
>>Easy guys<< Luz texts to the team, as she turns to see yet another newcomer in a funny suit. Cojeme; is this guy Oblique's bagman...but then why not just wire us the nuyen?
Luz holds up a hand, indicating to the man to stop. We don't need this area getting to crowded. In case the Ancients don't want to play nice; we don't need three people in the fatal funnel...two is enough.
Luz texts the team again, >>Keep an eye on the flankers. I can watch this group. <<
-
Morgan kept a bead on the radio chatter and from the mess of icons all huddled together, things had gotten interesting out there in meat space..
He checked the glowing terminal of the smartgun's camera feed, checking no-one had breached the lock on the door to screw with his body and ran a scan again, looking for icons out on the flanks as directed.
Sensing an opportunity, he took a gamble. He called up the config terminal and redistributed his processing power, emphasising stealth over brute power and turned his attention to subverting the flanker's comms.
Sleaze: 7//DP:6//Firewall: 5//Attack:4
Programs: -Exploit (+2 sleaze HOTF)
-Stealth (+1 sleaze)
-Signal Scrub (-2 noise)
-Virtual box: -Fork
-Configurator
Matrix perception: int 4 comp 5 hot sim 2 (11d6.hits(5)=4) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4659624/)
Place 1 mark (2 commlinks via Fork): log 6, hacking 6, codeslinger 2, hot sim 2 (16d6.hits(5)=4) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4659669/)
Ewar (For snooping two targets) int 4 ewar 3, hotsim 2 (9d6.hits(5)=3) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4659668/)
-
The lone figure stopped as requested.
Mr. Pink is amused by this request. He also figures that the opposition can hear him from where he is standing.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Route 161, Ash Wastes, Puyallup, Seattle]
"We are willing to pay a passage toll for our ride down this street to the border of Puayalup. But only under the condition that you escort us so that any further members of your gang see that we payed our tolls and so that any outlaws know they would mess with the Ancients, should they mess with this transport. What do you say? Ten Ancients on their feared combat bikes should be sight that installs fear in any opposition. It would be an easy ride for you and a safe one for us."
The leader scowls at the three of you, sparing a particularly scornful glance for the mime. "You want babysitting? I don't think you understand how it works around here fragger. We demand the toll, you pay or you head back the way you came. You think the guy with the rifle over there, or queen robot here scares me? Show some respect to your kind!
Put your cred away, we can get that anywhere. We know what you're carrying tucked away in there. We'll take fifty kay of pure and call that a down payment. Maybe we'll even grace your first performance with our presence, so that everyone knows you're in town with Lucifer's blessing, neh?"
-
Richter smiles and chuckles apogetically. "Gentlemen... I am glad we can discuss this over."
<<Mylady, what is Monsieur Oblique willing to pay as passage? And would he be willing to have some Ancients on the next performance. And please... make him hurry up with his answer. They do not seem to be the patient kind.>>
The message is sent mentally to Luz, who recieves a slight smile, before Richter approaches the leader further, now looking very confident. "Lucifers Blessing... There will be only one performance in Seattle and no doubt will it be stunning, even for the Lord of Hell himself." Richter seems to be thinking aloud, letting the leader hear every word he says. "I imagine the Devil would be very thankful to the man who could provide him such excuisite entertainement..." His glance then switches back to the smiling gentleman, looking at the elf. "Now... where were we? Ah, ja. We wanted the passage and escort. Well... let's see..."
-
>>Well it looks like the Cirque could stand to practice better operational security. Unfortunately for Zed here, the goods he wants aren't ours to give <<
Luz contacts Oblique again, >>Looks like the Ancients found out about your cargo. They want 50k of the "pure" as payment for passage, and no escort. Who else knows about this? Are we going to pay off every ganger from here to Bellingham? It's your goods and your call. <<
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Route 161, Ash Wastes, Puyallup, Seattle]
>>Looks like the Ancients found out about your cargo. They want 50k of the "pure" as payment for passage, and no escort. Who else knows about this? Are we going to pay off every ganger from here to Bellingham? It's your goods and your call. <<
<<@Luz/Team [Oblique]: He's fishing! This is your gig and I will take your recommendations on dealing with the locals, but whilst we have that quantity of telesma on board we aren't going to sacrifice a significant part of our act for some shit for brains ganger in the arse end of nowhere. We don't want him to loose face so we'll deal with them, but at a tenth of that maximum...and I'm inclined to have you contact the local Ancients gang boss and let him know what this fragger is demanding. I doubt he'll do anything about it but a call from his boss might be enough to make him uncomfortable. Get Torrent to set you up with a contact, if he doesn't know the Seattle boss he'll know a European one and they owe him enough favours out there that it shouldn't take him long to track the intel. We may look like an easy mark to some but we have teeth, we wouldn't have come this far in the sixth world without them.
If he persists you have my blessing to shoot him, just try and leave him sufficiently in one piece to pass the message back to others that we aren't to be trifled with. It's in your hands>>
-
...and I'm inclined to have you contact the local Ancients gang boss and let him know what this fragger is demanding. I doubt he'll do anything about it but a call from his boss might be enough to make him uncomfortable. Get Torrent to set you up with a contact, if he doesn't know the Seattle boss he'll know a European one and they owe him enough favours out there that it shouldn't take him long to track the intel.
Luz nods to herself and faces Señor Rosa, "Looks like we have the perfect man for that job."
She walks over to Mr. Pink and explains the situation, and trades commlink info.
-
Cutter, after watching the well-dressed newcomer carefully, shifts his aim over to the lead ganger, saying over sub-vocal comms to the team <<Target switched. Have bead on leader. Say the word.>>
-
Flicker smiles at the seer.
Thank you for your time, I must move to the back in case the bikers become upset. I will be back to hear the rest of your vision.
Flicker quickly and quietly moves to the rear of the train of vehicles staying to the shadows.
Listening to the ongoing communications from the team it appears there is some very valuable cargo on board and they are trying to bargain part of it for safe passage. I am going to have to find out where they are storing that so we can increase the security in that area.
I hope they aren't forced to shoot the leader, the less attention we draw the easier it will be to complete this mission without be noticed as even being here.
-
“Good morning, monsieur.”
With Luz having apparently accepted both the dandy-boy and the clown, and Cutter drawing a bead on the lead keeb, Al was off scope. The bikers had spread out a bit to each side, and he was eyeballing their line for any fishy plays. The big rigs were still creeping along, but it would be another minute or so before they reached the parlay. And then Al heard the greeting from behind him. Taking his eyes off target for a moment to scan his six, he saw a lithe fellow in skin-tight trousers and a billowy green silk shirt climb up with him on the cab’s roof.
The man had pencil-thin mustachios that stretched out to the corners of his mouth before leaping off his face and standing wax-rigid to reach up halfway to his eyes. His black hair was slicked back, and in one hand was a gold-topped cane, in the other a fancy looking kerchief that he held lightly over his mouth. He stood straight up beside Al’s prone form, apparently not overly concerned with the target he presented.
“Mornin’ back at’cha.”
Al redirected his gaze to their targets. The man asked, “May I ask what is happening here?”
He had a heavy accent, so Al answered in French. “Just some Barrens trash. We have it covered.”
The man also switched to French. “Do you mind, then, if I join you? This seems like an excellent perch from which to observe the proceedings.” And without awaiting a reply he lowered himself into a cross-legged position next to Al.
“Well, it’s very dusty up here, but please be my guest.”
“Your French is quite adequate. I cannot say excellent, but for an American it will do.”
“High praise.”
“My name is Marc. Marc Manon. But you may call me Marc the Magnificent,” came the voice from over Al’s left shoulder.
“Well, my name is Al. But you may call me Al.”
“Do you think these locals will cause us much trouble, Al?”
“Sadly, Marc the Magnificent, I cannot say. There are too many variables on our side of the equation.” Al was keenly aware that he knew almost nothing of the people on the team he’d started with, and less about the newcomers. So he changed the subject. “What do you do here with the circus? I am guessing not concession sales.”
-
Al imagined a wan smile spreading over the Frenchman’s lips, but since his eyes were on the heavily armed elves, he had no real way to know.
The answer came in English: “Sword swallower, knife thrower, razor walker, blade juggler. I am Marc Manon the Magnificent Master of Metals Mucronate.” He paused, and then conceded with some chagrin, “The alliteration breaks down a bit in translation. So you may call me just Marc the Magnificent.”
“Yup, reckon I got that. So ya do tricks with pointy things.”
“Yes, I have honed my skills to a razor’s edge.” He waited for a laugh, but when none came he switched back to French. “And what is it that you do for your...group? I am guessing not negotiation.”
“Well, right now I’m preparing to shoot one of these buffoons in the face. Which, if you like, is a form of negotiation.”
“If so, then certainly not of the win-win variety.”
“Sure it is - you win, and I win.”
“Well put. And how is it, may I ask, that you speak French?”
“Used to spend as much time as I could spare in Paris, mostly Montparnasse. There were a lot of good places to hear poetry there.”
“To be sure there are! How long did you live in the City of Lights?”
“Never lived there, but hopped over whenever I could when I was living in London, and then around the Baltic. Of course, that was back in the late fifites, Marc the Magnificent, so I don’t know what the scene is like now.”
“More vibrant than ever before, my friend Al. They are calling it a new Golden Age for Montparnasse! What were your favorite haunts? La Closerie des Lilas? La Rotonde?”
“Yes, I spent a little time in those places. They were in the guides. But their beer was never any good.”
“Wait a moment, Al. The guides?”
“Yes, the tourist guides. They said I should be sure to sit and watch people walk by. Sounded ridiculous to me, but when in doubt, follow directions.”
There was a deflated sound to the Frenchman’s voice, and Al wondered if it was something he’d said. “So, what did you think? Of the people-watching in Paris?”
“Never did take to it. People are a lot more colorful in New Orleans or Lagos. And those cafes were supposed to be where poets spent time, but what good was that if you couldn’t hear them read it there?”
“Yes, yes of course.” The man’s voice had lit up once more. “Where, then, did you end up spending your time when you visited?”
“Oh, various basement venues, mostly off Boulevard St-Michel. Few had names, but if you kept your ears open, you could find the good reads. Damned good poetry. Loved it.”
“Yes, my friend, those are the very best places. Au Chat Noir is there.”
“Yeah, been there.”
“Let me see, late fifties, who might you have heard? Adam Alone was active at that time. Prose, yes, but quite good.”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Marcel Avignon? Heloise Ntzake?”
“Nope.”
“Sean Wingrove? Felicity Greaves-Hitchens? Yang? Sunny Deathhouse?”
“Sorry. Can’t say, really.”
“Wait, you say you frequented the Montparnasse poetry scene in the late fifties, but never heard any of the period’s luminaries?”
“Well, I might have. I just never thought to ask what their names were. Just liked the poetry. And the berets.”
“The berets?”
“Yes, the berets. The black turtlenecks. Goatees. Best poems had bongo drums. Lots of smoke, brick walls and arches. Creaky wood floors. All very cool. Coffee in cute teeny tiny cups. Plus the girls. Lots of starry-eyed girls in very tight sweaters.”
Back to English. And all huffy now. Just when Al thought he was making his first circus friend. “Good day to you, monsieur. I wish you all the best with the bandits.”
“Ya leavin’ already. Hell, ol’ Al ain’t even got a chance to recite ya some o’ muh own lyrical versage.”
“You will pardon me, monsieur, but the dust seems to have become a bit too much for me.”
And with a swirl of his cape - well, he wasn’t wearing a cape, but if he had been it would have seemed like he’d swirled it - the man was gone.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Route 161, Ash Wastes, Puyallup, Seattle]
It’s early afternoon but the pervading murk makes it feel significantly later. The convoy is beginning to leave behind the ranks of drunken fir trees and approaching the urban blight that still shows up as the town of Graham on your AR maps. It was clearly once a burgeoning suburb before the Ghost Dance put an end to its prosperity. Now the skeletal remains of four to five storey buildings rise out of the wind-blown ash clawing at the low slung clouds.
The wind has increased in strength as the light fades and now the air is strewn with pregnant drops of rain, which mixed with the ash forms a sort of sludge that is clogging everything up and requires constant removal…at least it is damping down the ash in the air and vision is marginally improved.
Over to the left of the convoy yips and howls can be heard and slinking through the debris you can occasionally glimpse grey misshapen forms watching your progress with red eyes. Those with the sight are quick to let you know that something has stirred up the feral ghouls and that their auras are laced with anger and fear.
At least they don’t seem to pose a direct threat to the convoy at the moment…
-
[14SEP2075 1315 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
With the rain turning the ash into muck, Harrier had grounded his Wasp and Roto-Drones for safety on the rear car of the convoy, although their sensors were still operating. The Eye Spys handled the tough weather well enough using their vectored-thrust jets and had resumed their star formation around the convoy. Fortunate to have resolved the issue with the Ancients amicably, at least as amicably as it got out here in Puyallup, the convoy had proceeded with little difficulty for the last few hours. That is, until now...
<<@Team [Harrier] Alright chaps, I've got a few contacts on our left flank shadowing us. Metahuman of some kind... but grey and ugly looking, maybe ghouls? They do not, I repeat NOT, currently attacking us>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Route 161, Ash Wastes, Puyallup, Seattle]
His rifle stowed inside the cab, Al was careful to keep his shotgun barrel down as the muck started to fall. He was on the left running board now, and the sight of ghouls in rubble took him back to Tehran. Good times. He got Frank's attention and had him warn the outriders to tighten up their formation. Ferals wouldn't likely go after the convoy - not on their own at least - but they might try to snatch a straggler for tea, and a rescue mission into their warrens would be a little too exciting for this early in the day.
-
Luz again stood on top of the car after the incident with the Ancients. "Hopefully they won't be too sore about that", she thought, cracking a smile under her ballistic mask.
She hugged her M23 close, attempting to shield it from the ash. Already normal visibility was starting to dwindle.
If they're ghouls, we're not going to hesitate using firepower.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al:
It’s cold and uncomfortable out here and it’s a bitch trying to keep your nic stick alight in the wind driven rain. At least the train is shielding you from the brunt of the prevailing wind, not that that is stopping water finding its way down the back of your neck.
Your preternatural senses suddenly tell that you that you are no longer alone, not counting the two drivers through the plex glass beside you, and turning quickly you realise why you didn’t hear the person coming up behind you… the enormous woman is pacing along the top of the balloon tyre next to you completely oblivious to the elements… in fact you can see that the elements seem to be completely oblivious to her too as her hair or eccentric garments aren’t even stirring
“My, my, ent you a beauty dog boy” her warm smile does its best to take any sting out of the words and you feel a strange stirring inside you “mind if ole Meg joins you for a fag?” And she produces a battered packet of cigarettes from somewhere in her voluminous robes “Got a light…?”
@Morgan:
You’re meat is safe and undisturbed in the coffin pod leaving you free to browse the delights of the Circus’ host whilst keeping a wary eye on what surrounding monitors have been provided to you by the train and Harrier. You are mildly concerned about the weather reports coming in but at least the rain should damp down the charged ash that has been messing with your comms despite the signal scrubbers.
You idly watch a trio of circus folk walking back from the second train towards one of the vehicles bringing up the rear. It hasn’t been unusual for foot traffic back and forth despite a quiet word with Oblique about keeping his folk in line. The convoy is moving so damn slowly that people seem to feel the need to escape the confines of the cars and stretch their legs…that said there’s something odd about this little group…they pull grotesque rubber masks over their faces and climb on board an RV, a battered FC Bison…
@Ghost and Luz:
An ARO from Morgan flags a trio of clowns that suddenly don masks and scramble out of sight. Before you can decide whether they warrant closer attention you hear a muffled but unmistakable rattle of small arms fire from towards the rear of your train…
@Flicker:
You are suddenly faced with a panicing crowd of crew as they scramble away from a confrontation in the car ahead of you…
@Harrier:
Following Morgan’s ARO you get a clear view of the Bison suddenly leave its position in the convoy and begin to roar forwards…
@Al:
She’s damn distracting…but not enough to mask the roar of a shotgun blast from close by your ear
“Oh my…!”
-
Something about those clowns caught his eye, they were up to something, something not good...
Flagging it to the team with a generic exclamation mark ARO, he dialled up the zoom level on the cam and scried the sensors for some idea of whatever the hell was going on. The gunfire did not help to settle his nerves....
-
[14SEP2075 1315 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Harrier watched the ARO and feed closely, concern lighting up as the trio of clowns boarded the FC Bison. That concern increasing when the vehicle seemed to be behaving erratically.
<<@Team [Harrier] You blokes seeing this? Trio of clowns just boarded a Bison and it's tearing towards the front of the convoy. Acquiring a target lock and spooling up the Wasp>>
Sending a command to his security drones, the rotors of the helicopter and drones begin to pick up speed. While the vehicles work to gain sufficient lift, the dwarf locks the RV with his sensor targeting.
-
<<@Team [Harrier] Alright chaps, I've got a few contacts on our left flank shadowing us. Metahuman of some kind... but grey and ugly looking, maybe ghouls? They do not, I repeat NOT, currently attacking us>>
Ghouls? I guess this might count as a threat. If they start approaching us, I don't think we'll be able to convince them like we did with the Ancients.
Looking more closely at them, Ghost sees no obvious weaponry. They certainly look like ghouls.
Recipients: Team
Sender: Ghost
I can confirm that they are ghouls. They don't look like they are carrying any weapons, so as long as they keep their distance I don't think we need to worry.
An ARO from Morgan flags a trio of clowns that suddenly don masks and scramble out of sight. Before you can decide whether they warrant closer attention you hear a muffled but unmistakable rattle of small arms fire from towards the rear of your train…
Ghost resumes looking out at the trains and notices that Morgan has highlighted a few of the walkers. Not that they should have been walking, but Ghost could understand the need to move around on this long, seemingly unending trip. He doesn't see anything immediately suspicious about the trio, and is in the process of asking Morgan why he flagged them when he hears the sound of guns going off, in the direction the clowns were heading. He quickly sends out.
Recipients: Team
Sender: Ghost
There are sounds of small arms fire near the back of the train. There seemed to be a trio of clowns heading back there. I'm heading there immediately; Luz, Flicker; you are probably closer. What is going on down there?
Ghost quickly hops down onto the floor of the train and starts making his way towards the rear; a sinking feeling in his chest. Damn, damn, damn. There are probably casualties. Damn.
-
"Qué chingados!!! " Luz exclaims as she hears the shot. Quickly, she hops down into the car and begins to move past the performers in the the walkway and beds, staring at the back off the car in shock.
I'm clearing the second train. Moving now to contact.
Moving into the rearward cars, she shouts to the rush of circus personnel starting to crowd the hallway, "Make a hole! coming through! Get back in your beds!" Attempting to squeeze past the dumbfounded people, accidentally knocking a few to the side.
She arrives on scene, the barrel of her assault rifle leading the way.
"Get Down!" She yells at the passengers.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Wet.
Al was damned wet. Gritty wet.
But it settled the dust, so he could dispense with the bandanna around his face.
And that meant he could smoke.
Wet was a small price to pay.
He had eyes port, and was trying to decide just how many ferals it might take to actually pose a threat to the convoy, when he noticed the gigantic woman treading tire beside him. Either the circus fat lady was also an acrobat, or she wasn't exactly human. Either way, when she asked for a light - well, there were universal laws that bound all tobacco lovers. He had just produced his big stainless steel Zippo when a shotgun roared just behind his head, and he thanked his voodoo guardians again for the sense to get that damper in his ears.
And events didn't slow down from there. No sooner had he stepped out of the cab window frame than his comm translated Harrier's text to voice for his earbud. Deadly clowns headed his way. He knew it! Had to be the clowns! It was always the clowns! There was some other chatter - about the ghouls, and clearing cars - but that was a world away right now. He spoke into the mic on his collar, sending text back to the team: <<Slow 'em down for me, flyboy, got problems of muh own up here.>>
The woman was still there. "Oh my…" she said, and looked none too pleased at what she saw. Remembering she still needed a light, he tossed her the Zippo. "Half a tic, hon," he said, then took a look himself as he tightened the choke on his own scattergun.
There was blood on the window. A lot of it. Bone too, bits of hair. Couldn't see whose, but it was enough that at least one of the men was dead.
Well, he thought as he reached for the door handle, in a second it'll be two.
-
Flicker sighs again and realizes they never let me just watch the plum blossoms bloom, someone always has to disturb the peaceful quiet of my walk.
Flicker watches all the panicking people scream and run by as he deftly side steps the crowd slips up to the door. Tucking into a tight roll he dives into the room coming up with his heightened reflexes maxed and ready to fight. The katana gleams in the light and he feels the balanced throwing spike in his other hand.
Drop your weapons or we drop you.
Message To Team:
I am in the car with 3 armed clowns
Message Complete:
-
[14SEP2075 1315 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
As Harrier's three Roto-Drones lifted off and headed toward the hijacked recreational vehicle, the rigger himself sent a message to the zeppelin.
>>L'Ombre Zep, this is Harrier. Looks like one of the RVs was just hijacked, chaps. Sending targeting ARO, please confirm known passengers.
He sure hoped the zeppelin crew was on their toes this time. After a brief second, he received a message in return.
>>Harrier, this is L'Ombre Zep. The Bison belongs to two of the wire artists and their kids.
Bollocks! Harrier thought; his time with the Lord-Protector's office brought back vivid images of children's corpses. As the Roto-Drones sped toward the vehicle, the Wasp finally lifted off the back of the train, making a beeline for a spot between the front of the convoy and the RV.
-
From her place in the kitchen car, Rodeo lazily opened her left eye. Her view was fully obscured for a brief moment before she remembered to push her cattleman up from her face. Coming more fully to her senses, her right eye blinked open and she sat up, looking out the window from her seat. She wondered for a moment just how far the train had gone since they started moving and hoped, perhaps over optimistically, that they were near the end of the journey. She stretched her arms over her head and then thought about what had awakened her. Coming more fully to her senses she realized that there was something going on and the sounds of gunfire stretched lazily through her dream-hazed short term memory.
"Well, shit," she muttered to herself. This was supposed to be a break. A quick jaunt with some interesting folks and a spiffy show to catch at the end. Booking passage aboard the train hadn't been hard. Had she looked like any other chummed, they probably would have told her to take a hike. But somehow, her Stetson cattleman, Ariat boots with spurs, and real leather bullwhip had convinced a few members of the performing troupe that she was, at least in spirit, one of 'them'. That was enough to get her a place on the train, for now.
No breaks, though. Looks like she was going to be forced to earn her keep, after all. She leaned back into her chair and made herself comfortable. Shifting to astral perception, she was comforted by the sight of a large Wolf sitting just across from her. As she watched, it shook itself vigorously, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Wherever it landed, it disappeared, except on her, where it settled into a fine layer of silty powder. Satisfied at the level of protection she had set for herself, she closed her eyes entirely and with a thought, fell backwards, out of herself and through the chair.
She took a moment to grab her bearings, noted her meat body resting lazily in the chair she had just left it in and turned towards the back of the train. With a blink she found herself centered in the car just behind hers. Noticing nothing in that car, she blinked again, finding herself another car behind. A couple more blinks took her to the action and she gave herself a moment to take it all in...
-
Seeing the Wasp auto-gyro lift off from the train and moving toward the approaching RV, Cutter puts out some more speed on his bike to maneuver himself between the train and RV as well.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al swung the door wide in time to see some idiot in a clown mask two feet away from him fill the rig's control console with buckshot. It was a sawn-off Defiance - no wonder the blast had been so loud. With the door open it was louder, and Al's dampers were working overtime.
Steadying himself on the running board and using his shoulder to keep the door from swinging shut on him, the unshaven little man raised his Remington 990. But the other son of a bitch was quick, dropping his ass onto the arm of the driver's bucket seat and using his left hand to pull the headless corpse close to himself, just in time to catch the brunt of Al's blast. Clown-guy fired back in the same instant, but with only one hand the recoil sent most of the shot over the short human's head, only a couple of pellets grazing the scalp. Those would bleed like nobody's business. Now he'd have to wash his hair, dammit.
Less than a yard apart, both continued firing as fast as they could. But Al grabbed the hot barrel of the clown's weapon and pushed it off line, even as he braced his Remington on the neck-stump of the corpse and fired point-blank into center mass, leaving only a critical few inches of space between muzzle and target to avoid his weapon exploding in his hand. The shots in Al's ear momentarily deafened him even with the damper, but his own first shot propelled the man away from his makeshift cover, his next sent the man off the seat, and his next hit hard enough that his head flopped back against the floor.
But the bastard still managed to hold onto his weapon, which was now free of Al's grip. Had to respect him, he kept firing. Only now his aim was fucked, while Al crouched low on the running board on the other side of the bucket seat, and kept firing himself. His buckshot was crap against the clown's venlar jacket, and the feller got four more erratic shots off before Al's blasts literally pummelled him into oblivion.
-
I'm clearing the second train. Moving now to contact.
@Luz - Understood, I'll be there for backup.
Ghost hastily pushes through the trains, but doesn't meet any resistance from the Circus folk. Luz seems to have already convinced them, one way or another. As he finally gets to Luz's position, he hears.
"Get Down!"
He glances at the cowering Circus people behind him and yells, "You heard her. Go!".
Ghost tightens his grip on his shotgun, the adrenaline rushing through his veins, and readies himself behind Luz, ready to fire at any moment.
-
Once in position between the two vehicles, Cutter lets his feet drop to the ground for stability and takes aim on the RV's tire and squeezes off a single shot.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al yelled to the rotund lady outside: "Make yerself useful, hon, and see if there's anyone else 'round here fixin' ta kill ol' Al." Then he locked himself into the cab and scanned the three bodies with an experienced eye. Wasn't that always the way? Not a damned thing he could do for poor Frank or Tyrone, but the asshole that had killed them was still breathing. He was raising his Remington to remedy that when it occurred to him that someone might want to talk to the moke, and he shouldn't be allowed to die in his sleep in any case.
But that would have to wait, because the windows on three sides of him showed his world heading at a slow but sure two miles an hour off the road toward a crumbling apartment block. He could just see it - the behemoth of a vehicle run aground on the shoals of urban ruin as hordes of feral cannibal undead swarmed through its every aperture in search of all its juicy innards.
The control console was spark-spewing scrap. Wth nary a second to spare, Al reached behind the seat to where he'd stashed his tools and got to work.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al:
Frag what a mess…ignoring the gore, well more or less, you heft Frank out of the way and with tools in hand begin to rummage through the remains of the console to try and bring this wallowing beast under control before it careens into the side of one of the crumbling buildings at the side of the road.
Behind you, and ignoring you exhortation to go and see what is going on, ‘Ole Meg squeezes her prodigious bulk into the increasingly small cabin
“Wud ya adam and eve it? Mortal blud, so fin don’t ya fink?” as she runs a finger along the side of Frank’s face…the effect is decidedly unsettling
@Cutter:
Compensating for the cross wind and the driving rain you calmly brace yourself before the charging Bison, vaguely aware of the trio of rotadrones homing in above you. The pistol bucks and the armour piercing slug connects mere moments later, the sabot round shredding the runflat tyre and probably doing significant damage to the wheel itself. The Bison lurches and comes to a shuddering stop as high velocity rounds accompany Harrier’s ARO…
HALT THE RV! NEXT SHOT IS FOR REAL!
Well it looks like it’s halted…
@Harrier:
Whether it was your shots or Cutter’s forensic destruction of the front driver’s side wheel the RV grinds to a halt and there is a moment of silence apart from the patter of rain on the canopy of your wasp and the whump of the rotors overhead.
@Morgan:
As you stretch your senses out into the matrix to try and isolate the matrix signatures of the clowns your deck alerts you to a live video feed that has just been posted onto the circus’ host.
The camera work is wobbly, clearly from a poor quality commlink, but the view is all too clear, showing the comfy interior of the RV and the four terrorised performers accompanied by the manic laughter of the clowns. The view point is from the doorway between the driver’s compartment and the rest of the living area and swings from the father behind the wheel with a large calibre pistol pressed to his temple to his family behind with another clown standing over them
“Back the fuck away or we start to ventilate these good people here! In fact to show we are serious…” the view dips as the bearer nods to his compatriot and the retort of the pistol is drowned out by the screams from off camera… “right, let’s negotiate…” the laughter is tinged with insanity…
@Ghost, Luz & Flicker:
With the three of you in the doorway to car thirteen the circus folk trapped in the car with you decide that crouching against the walls of the car is preferable to coming close to the lethal array of weapons that you are sporting despite the threat of the clowns and their manic laughter.
Despite your orders to drop their weapons the clowns have clearly decided that keeping their hostages between them and you is the best option…
“Frag off and die robot bitch…”
@Betsey:
The last of the circus folk that are coming have squeezed past your astral form and headed towards the front of the land train. You are surprised somewhat by the astral signatures of many of the people here, there are an unusually high concentration of magical dodads about them, not necessarily active but present none the less... There are a number of unmasked magical auras amongst the performers that you've seen but there is a certain similarity to the other auras that you wouldn't expect to see. Presumably it's an effect of the magic that they surround themselves in day in day out.
Ahead you can see some of the runners that were picked up in Tarislar to protect the convoy through the badlands on the edge of Seattle…it would seem they could do with a hand, even the one who's aura resembles a gaping pit!
@Morgan:
You wince as the wire act becomes one member smaller. You watch helpless as the shattered body is dragged out of the driver’s seat before the camera swings back to show the performers wife and two children, a girl of about fourteen and her younger brother, maybe ten or so…
“Now I’ve got your attention…! We want another fragging set of wheels brought up now or we will see how flexible these three really are…”
-
[14SEP2075 1316 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Drek! Harrier thought as the RV came to a halt. With the ghouls lying in wait, he really didn't want to damage the vehicle itself, but that consideration was somewhat irrelevant now that the front tire was well and truly shot out.
<<@Team [Harrier] The RV is down, but we've got ghouls watching and I have no way to get inside to rescue the performers. If anyone wants to attempt a rescue, I'll keep the ghouls back.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
"Thick or thin, hon, mortal's the only variety Al's got, or them pore fellers either, fer that matter."
He had no idea how she'd even gotten herself in here, but the way she was fondling Frank's flayed face was giving him pause. Meanwhile, his earbud was picking up nought but bad news. Nothing for any of it, though. If he didn't get this train straightened out then everyone's day was going to get a lot worse fast.
Something was biting into his spine, and he reached back to sweep some chunks of Tyrone's jaw and tusks out from under himself, then went back to stripping the fillister head from the electronic steering column.
And all the while he kept one eye on his new companion.
-
The leading clown stood there with a maniacal grin on his face. Clearly he wasn't going to make it easy for them. He started to say;
“Frag off and die
Immediately raising his shotgun, Ghost fires 3 controlled shots at a nearby clown who was reaching for a hostage. A burst of arterial spray covers the wall in red as the clown falls over, dead with a gaping hole through his chest.
robot bitch..."
His last few words barely audible over the sound of gunfire; the leading clown stood there shocked.
Serves you right, jackass.
Ghost calmly states, "Step away from the hostage and drop your weapons or be killed."
As a cycle of emotions is clearly visible on his face, the clown's eyes take on a frenzied demeanor, and raising his gun, he points it straight at Luz, his finger on the trigger.
-
Flicker matches action to words no sooner than he finishes his sentence than his arm blurs forward and the throwing spike strikes the eye of the clown holding the joy girl. Living up to his name he is standing next to the hostage with the katana blade flashing in the light. And as if by magic 2 more throwing spikes are in his hand replacing the one that is resting in the clowns eye.
It is said if you must resort to violence you have already lost.
Flicker appears to be calm and is waiting to intervene if one of the clowns makes a move towards them.
-
Luz saw the clowns fall from Ghost and Flicker's attacks, takes aim at the last clown's rainbow-colored head, and squeezes the trigger.
All she feels is recoil.
-
Taking note of what her assesses relay to her brain, Rodeo acknowledged that whatever was going on in here, the folks she dubbed 'friend' seemed to have it handled, or handled enough that moving physically to the car would be a waste of time. With that, she allowed herself to rise up and out of the car, taking a view of the surroundings from atop. Best to get a handle on any awakened threats that may be lurking.
-
<<@Harrier: I'll keep an eye out for those ghouls as well.>>
-
Alicia jerked awake in one of the train cars at the sound of gunfire coming from outside. It figured that she wouldn't be able to get any peace or sleep anywhere. Story of her life. It didn't seem like the gunfire was on the train itself, and determined to find out what woke her up. Looking on the Astral Plane, she was happy to see a pair of snakes, made out of Fire and Water. Assured that she was safe, she went a step further into the astral, leaving her physical body behind. IT took her a few blinks, but she soon arrived at the scene of the action. She was fairly sure she knew what was going on, and looked around for any astral aignatures in the area that she could see, she immediatly spotted one on top of one of the train cars. Curious, she studied it, trying to determine who, or what, it belonged to, and it's side in the fight. At the same time, she kept an eye on the fight, ready to call a spirit in if needed.
-
Ghost surveys their handiwork and all of the hostages seem safe. Not well, but safe. He notices a message at the corner of his vision.
<<@Team [Harrier] The RV is down, but we've got ghouls watching and I have no way to get inside to rescue the performers. If anyone wants to attempt a rescue, I'll keep the ghouls back.>>
<<@Team [Ghost] We just removed 3 hostiles from car 13. I'm on my way with my rifle to help you with the RV. Stall them for me?>>
Ghost takes a look at Flicker and Luz. He says, "It looks like we have a situation outside. I'm moving to go help. You two coming?"
Without waiting for an answer, Ghost makes his way back to his temporary perch on top train 8 to pick up his Sniper Rifle.
-
Luz moved over to each of the bodies, pulling off their masks to make sure her cybereyes got a good look at what was left of their faces. She broadcast her eyes' and ears' input to Torrent and Oblique, "Recognize these men?"
She gives the men a brief pat-down, looking for any clues.
Satisfied, she moves back towards the front of the train.
-
Alicia traveled to above the train car to where the Astral Traveller was. Who are you? she asked the person, all the while keeping an eye on the fight, ready to summon a spirit, wether to aid the people down below or defend her if the Stranger attacked.
-
Rodeo's dusty yellow aura flares briefly into a series of pastels as slices of amusement bleed through a heavy indicator of curiosity. The aura is steady and powerful, Alicia realizes perhaps as strong as her own, and flickers vibrantly, indicating that she's ready for action, whatever that may be.
"That question has no relevance jus' now, hun," she said, her affected drawl heard only across the astral space between them. "You'll jus' hafta trus' that you kin deal with whatever y'need without interference on mah part. Which I'm telling you that y'can. So take it fer what it's worth."
She tipped the astral concept of her cattleman with her thumb and continued to look beyond for any awakened threats.
-
Alicia's forked tongue flicks out as she eyes the mage. Trust is something I don't ussually hand out like a party favor, and I dislike withheld information. All questions have relevance. With that Alicia left the Cowgirl and returned back to her own body. Rising up, she began a quick little chant, arms moving in a short little pattern as she called upon the Snake to lend her strength.
-
Shit shit shit....
This had not gone well.
<<To:all//Hostage situation in the wounded RV. One member of crew killed, do not approach, repeat, do not approach. Are all main cars secure yet?//>>
-
Flicker looks at Ghost and nods, sheaths his sword and the throwing spikes disappear somewhere on his person.
He gives a slight bow to the girl and follows Ghost out
-
Rodeo watched the other mage go and shrugged.
Not sure how knowing my name would change how she felt about any of this and sure didn't have time to exchange life stories... she'll just have to make due.
With that, Rodeo maintained her position, scanning the astral plane around the train. Let the gun-bunnies handle the chummers inside. If they had a magical ace-in-the-hole, Rodeo was damn sure she was going to be ready for it.
-
Morgan composed his thoughts, replying on the channel the clown had used.
//We'll keep away from the RV for the time being on the condition that no-one else gets hurt. What are your demands?//
-
<<To:All//This is Alicia Reeves on Landtrain 1 Car 5. I can search the first land train for you Security. Anything else you need? I have a couple of sprits back here.//>>
-
<<To:all//Hostage situation in the wounded RV. One member of crew killed, do not approach, repeat, do not approach. Are all main cars secure yet?//>>
Al spat a couple of screws out of his mouth and spoke: <<Lead train's cab is secure.>> He paused and glanced up at the huge whatever-she-was looming above him on the seat, and added: <<In a manner o' speakin'.>>
He wondered if he could spare the time to light a cigarette and still get the rig under control before it crashed, but then he felt the teensiest of bumps as the wheels went over the curb and decided maybe not. Anyway, the fat lady had his damned lighter.
<<One clown down. Driver's dead an' controls shot, but I got this. An' Ms. Reeves, best keep any spirits outta this here cab fer now. Jist sayin'.>>
-
<<To:all//Hostage situation in the wounded RV. One member of crew killed, do not approach, repeat, do not approach. Are all main cars secure yet?//>>
Al spat a couple of screws out of his mouth and spoke: <<Lead train's cab is secure.>> He paused and glanced up at the huge whatever-she-was looming above him on the seat, and added: <<In a manner o' speakin'.>>
He wondered if he could spare the time to light a cigarette and still get the rig under control before it crashed, but then he felt the teensiest of bumps as the wheels went over the curb and decided maybe not. Anyway, the fat lady had his damned lighter.
<<One clown down. Driver's dead an' controls shot, but I got this. An' Ms. Reeves, best keep any spirits outta this here cab fer now. Jist sayin'.>>
Alicia listened to the man's statement, and curiosity got the better of her. <<Why? Is there some sort of localized spirit destabilizing effect? Anyway, I'll check the rest of the landcars on this train.>>
-
<<To:all//Hostage situation in the wounded RV. One member of crew killed, do not approach, repeat, do not approach. Are all main cars secure yet?//>>
Ghost pauses for a second in thought, then sends back:
@Team <<All, right. Stall them, keep them occupied. Train 13 is secured, we'll comb the rest of the trains of hostiles. Do whatever it takes as long as they do not get away with any hostages. Or kill any more, of course.>>
He turns around and says to Flicker, "You know what's going on. We have to secure these cars. I'll cover the front half of the train, you cover the back half. Stay in communication in case either of us needs backup. When we're done, inform Morgan."
Having said his piece, Ghost takes his own orders and starts heading up to check the first 7 cars for insane clowns. Had to be the damn clowns, of course. I hate Circuses...
-
Leaving the empty car, Luz runs into a throng of circus cadre escaping the carnage clogging the forward cars. Several members of the mob were now taking the exits in-between the cars and jumping off the still-moving land train.
Luz moves through the exit and drops into the soft ash, "Get back on-board!" she yells at those abandoning ship.
A short, pot-bellied man with thinning hair and jagged-teeth looked up at the cybered woman and thrust a short sausage of a finger at her, "Your supposed to be guarding us you bitch!" Luz's sensors detect the odor of stewed greens from his mouth.
"There's ghouls in this area, get back on the fucking train!" Luz shot back, barely stopping her advance towards the first train and it's admin car.
The squat man takes a few panicked looks at the building, turns and hurries back to the safety of the train.
Luz sends her cyberlegs into a dead sprint towards the first train's admin car, using the hydraulic jacks she had installed years before to lengthen her stride.
Where is everyone? Did they decide that this job was too much work?
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan (car 4):
//We'll keep away from the RV for the time being on the condition that no-one else gets hurt. What are your demands?//
The clown mask leers into the camera and then pans down to the woman behind him as a wicked looking hooked blade begins to slice away her clothing
//Condition? There ain’t no fucking conditions! Get us replacement wheels now or it won’t be her clothes I peel off, ya scan?!//
Keep ‘em talking, keep ‘em talking…got it, there’s a hidden ‘link in the RV that’s sending the feed, shouldn’t take you more than a few moments to break into their communications…
@Al (car 1):
The train shudders to a halt and you spare a moment to thank the Gods that it’s pace was so abysmally slow…it should also stop the second train rear ending you. Beside you ‘Ole Meg pouts and runs a suggestive hand down your back and the cabin feels even more crowded than it did moments before
“So are ye gunna entertain me some more?”
@Cutter (west side of the convoy):
Quietly cursing the mirrored glass preventing you from seeing the interior of the RV you are increasingly aware of the ghouls gathering in your peripheral vision…
@Harrier (yellowjacket):
Damn, there’s a vehicle approaching, it’s low and damn fast, dipping in and out of radar…could be nothing, there are smuggler routes nearby, but you’d probably better not risk it as the profile screams T-bird…
@Ghost (car 6):
Luz powers on ahead of you, seemingly oblivious to the thirty centimeters or so of ash underfoot, heading for car 3 and the admin area, that leaves you to jump on board the rear of the front train and start making your way towards her from inside. Hopefully you’ll flush out any of these damn clowns between you. Indeed, as you are approaching the car ahead of you there’s another weapon retort and one of the roustabouts staggers back into your compartment clutching at a nasty gut wound…
Down the narrow corridor you can see a clown with smoking shotgun emerging from the seer’s quarters…
@Luz (car 3):
The train comes to a halt as you vault onboard and suddenly Ghost is reporting contact behind you on car 5…the mage with the spirit support was back there wasn’t she…?
@Flicker (car 10):
A sweep through the rear train is coming up dry when the others report contact in the lead train. Damn, out of position, unless it’s another bloody diversion, these clowns seem able to strike multiple locations, the benefits of being insiders…
@Betsey (astral space over the convoy):
The violence suddenly springing up around the convoy is clearly visible on the astral and you can feel it drawing the ghouls closer. What disturbs you more are the flickers of energy that appear on the edges of your vision, always as you are turning to watch something else… Determined to catch a clear view of one…there, a spirit, but not like any spirit you’ve ever seen before…it has an ancient feel about it, malicious but not necessarily malevolent, and you recall stories told by your compatriots of the fae, spriggans maybe? That might account for some of the stranger auras you’ve seen on the circus folk… but they are supposed to be a European phenomenon and linked to the land rather than to a travelling gypsy band…?
@Alicia (car 5):
The gun shot is all too clear in the corridor leading off your compartment and the other circus folk in here jump like startled rabbits as it becomes clear that they aren’t as safe as they’d hoped! A quick mental calculation suggests that there are three metahumans in the area where the shot came from and a couple more in the entrance to car 6. The three key players are all human and the aura of violence is palpable…
-
[14SEP2075 1316 | Cirque de l'Ombre Caravan| Puyallup]
Double drek! With the RV ground to a halt and Morgan attempting to negotiate, Harrier was in the middle of deciding what to do when his sensors picked up an intermittent signal. Something was coming in fast, nearly on an intercept course with the convoy. Moving at that rate of speed, it could only be a fixed wing aircraft or a LAV. Given the altitude it was flying at, it was probably the latter. Broadcasting on multiple channels, the dwarf sent out a quick message.
>>All, this is Harrier. I've got a contact, fast as Hell, coming in on an intercept course. Possible LAV, moving to intercept. Someone help Cutter out over by the RV.
With that, the rigger and his drones quickly gained altitude and flew over the nearest building on an intercept course with whatever had been picked up by the Wasp's sensors. In mere seconds, the formation was out of sight.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The touch of the fat lady’s finger on his back sent Al’s eyebrows so high it’d be next Christmas before they came down.
“So are ye gunna entertain me some more?”
Some more??? The possible implications of that were either bad or worse, and he had no time to consider which.
Stall. “Temptin’ as that no doubt is fer all parties concerned, darlin’, that there’s jist the brakes done.” He raised his head above the dashboard and found himself staring into a greenish visage covered with scabs and graced with the nastiest set of teeth he’d laid eyes on in a long life of associations with the dentally underprivileged. The huge rig had ground to a halt barely a meter from the face of a crumbling apartment block, and only the shatterproof windshield separated him from the rag-cloaked feral slavering at him past tattered curtains. He flashed the zombie a peace sign and fired up a soldering iron. “Be a second or three more afore ol’ Al kin git the acceleration and steerin’ back up, an’ maybe it’s jist me, but I’m thinking sooner’d be a damned sight better’n later.”
Making quick work of his bypass to the steering hydraulics, a Lucky Strike appeared in his mouth and he added, “But if’n ya wanna light muh fire, baby, howzabout startin’ with this here smoke?”
-
'th tarnation? Now that's innerestin'...
The question was, of course, if these spirits belonged to the 'fors' or the 'againsts', which was always a popular question when stumbling into the middle of Nunyabiz. Still, her meat was on that train and the train was endangered so really they had just crossed the border into Becamerbiz. She hustled back to the meat.
Opening her eyes and sitting up, she quickly sent a broadcast on the channel Oblique told her to use in case of trouble.
<<Hey ya'll. This is your friendly samaritan on board the Shit's Gone ta Hell expressway. Ah know ya'll got troubles, jus wanted ta throw out there that we may have some spirit activity stampeding our way. No idea if'n it's friendly 'r not. Hopin yes, but Ah'm getting ready ta wrangle em, if'n ya'll get my meaning. Try not ta shoot me thinking ya'll got a rogue mage trying ta blast ya. I'm on your side.>>
With that she got up and headed out between cars 8 and 9 and climbed up to the roof.
"YEEEE HAW!" she shouted. Jus' like on 'em old flat trids!
-
Alicia cursed and ducked behind the door as the gunshot rang. Still astrally perceving, she could see the auras of the men. She turned to one of her spirits, one she had affectionaly called Irongut for his love of alcohol and Iron Stomach. After a quick mental discussion, a deal had been struck for a bottle of whiskey, and the Irongut was more than eager for a battle. Only attack the ones with the clown masks and guns. All the other ones are off-limit old friend. May the Snake aid you. Irongut materialized, a ten foot-long snake made of flames. Some of the carnies started to scream, but she shushed them. Irongut slithered out of the door like an arrow, and immediatly leapt at one of the clowns by the door to Car 6, massive jfiery jaws opened. Alicia smiled as she saw it. she wasn't a violent woman, but she had heard about the hostage getting executed. She wouldn't shed any tears for these men.
<<To: All Clowns in Car 6 of the Train. To anybody in the area some help would be appreciated, be warned, the Flame Spirit there is on our side, do not shoot him. He hasn't hade Alcohol in a week, and I will not be responsible if he decides to bite you.>>
-
Flicker thinks this is all wrong, tactically incorrect why split forces, they should sweep the cars in bigger groups, they had to expect resistance, this is more like a diversion. Like they are trying to keep us all busy while the real objective happens. They are forcing us to all show ourselves and determine which of us are the largest threat to them. Are the ghouls the real threat or another distraction. I need to talk to the seer, we need to know what they are really after.
Message To Team:
This is wrong they are dividing us and determining the threat level of each of us. We need to find out what they really want. Back half of train clear. On my way to the seer.
Message Complete:
-
As the performer stumbles by, his hand covered in his own blood as he futilely tries to stop his wound, Ghost just moves past and raises his shotgun to his shoulder. There's no time for emotions or thoughts; it's bad enough that it was an inside job that the runners were not prepared for. It's impossible at this point to stop casualties, and the man is clearly moments from death.
As he turns the corner, he sees the clown emerge from the Seer's room. Ghost, with the ease of long practice, aims at the clown and pulls the trigger. A smile touches Ghost's lips as the bullets fly towards his unsuspecting target.
-
A spray of blood appears behind the clown as a hole appears in his head. However, before Ghost can react, the clown's body is immediately engulfed in flames. What the hell?
He sees a message in the side of his vision, and he decides to open it up.
<<To: All Clowns in Car 6 of the Train. To anybody in the area some help would be appreciated, be warned, the Flame Spirit there is on our side, do not shoot him. He hasn't hade Alcohol in a week, and I will not be responsible if he decides to bite you.>>
All right, the fire spirit's on our side. Seems like a good trade-off. A little unnecessary to fry the guy I already shot, but all right.
Another message appears in his vision.
Message To Team:
This is wrong they are dividing us and determining the threat level of each of us. We need to find out what they really want. Back half of train clear. On my way to the seer.
Message Complete:
Ghost tries to quiet the singing in his blood; the ultimate feeling of adrenaline going through his veins ever since the clowns revealed themselves. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he loved the feeling of guns, the thrill of battle, but now was not the time for that. He needed to respond rationally. Closing his eyes didn't seem to help, but he sent anyway:
<@Team [Ghost] - The Fire Spirit and I finished off a clown near the seer. The area seems to be clear.
Ghost finally remembers the wounded performer, and turns to check on him. The performer stared back at him with lifeless eyes; his hands and shirt covered in blood.
"Damn, Señor Oblique will not be pleased."
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al (car 1):
”But if’n ya wanna light muh fire, baby, howzabout startin’ with this here smoke?”
“Nah, darlin’ ya ain’t got wat I need, not yet anyway”
@Morgan (car 4):
The encryption on the ‘link is pitiful and easily parts to the slycers in your deck…
Intercept:
<<These bastards are crawling all over us, when does the courier get here?>>
<<Inbound, fraggers will turn up soon, you know they got Chris and his crew in the back?>>
<<Yeah I got that, let’s get this passage delivered and then I’ll take great pleasure in teaching these fraggers not to mess with us! Oh frag there’s a fire spirit…finish it and we can get the package out of here, warn those bastards off again, they don’t seem to be listening too good>>
@Alicia (car 5):
Your spirit gleefully engulfs the poor fool in the corridor and the stink of burnt flesh washes back to you. Beyond you can just about see the aura of the runner turn back into car 6 and his message comes across the security channel, your ‘link providing the audio sounds odd from the astral
<<@Team [Ghost]: The Fire Spirit and I finished off a clown near the seer. The area seems to be clear>>
No, no, no, your spell is clearly still showing you three humans in the seer’s chamber only a few meters from where you are and as far as you know she travels alone…that’s not to mention the six or seven ghouls that you feel approaching from the west…
With the benefit of your astral sight you clearly see the spirit bolt coming from inside the seer’s quarters and slamming into the fiery form of your ally…
@Ghost (car 6):
As you are assessing the state of the unfortunate roustabout the fire spirit screams out behind you in anger and possibly a tinge of fear…
@Luz (car 3):
Oblique meets you as you board the admin car
“This is going to hell! My people are dying at the hands of fellow performers… this is a nightmare!”
@Flicker (car 8):
This second train seems to be clear of clowns, only panicked circus folk remain…through one of the side windows you can see that the first train has bounced off the road and come to a stop near one of the ruined buildings, through the murk you can see the sloping forms of the ghouls as they approach cautiously…
@Betsey (car 9 roof):
The strange spirit you were pursuing looks fiercely at you and promptly disappears back to whatever metaplane spawned it…ah well so much for studying it… the ghouls on the other hand, their sickly auras are bright on the astral…
@Harrier (Yellowjacket):
Banking east you try to follow the signature of the incoming bird
<<@Harrier [l’Ombre Zep]: Confirm contact, fragger’s hugging the ground but we see him, swinging round to approach from the east, ETA 30s at the speed he’s coming! No, wait, slowing up…damn, lost him but he’s out there! Watch your back Harrier>>
@Cutter (west side of the convoy):
One of the ghouls breaks into a loping run and it bears down on you out of the gloomy rain…
@All:
The clown’s transmission shows an extreme closeup of the woman’s breasts and the trickle of blood running between them
<<@Circus: You fraggers haven’t been listening…back the fuck off or this bitch will die!>>
-
Seeing the ghoul break into a run toward him, Cutter again lines up a shot on the creature before squeezing the trigger. He sends over comms <<@Team: Ghouls are active. Repeat. Ghouls are active.>>
-
Ghouls are indeed active.
Course, they were just ghouls, no tears to be shed for those flesh eating miscreants. Sure, some kept to themselves and tried to maintain some level of civility and sure they deserved consideration. She wasn't prejudiced. But this pack didn't belong to that group, feral beasts that could barely keep their appetites in check. Best to neutralize them quickly.
Rodeo brought her right arm up and curled her fingers, leaving her index finger extended and her thumb up. She cocked her head to the right and closed her left eye, sighting the group along her arm.
"Get along, lil' dogies," she whispered and she drew her hand up and back as she released a concentration of magical energies directly upon the ghouls.
-
@Luz (car 3):
Oblique meets you as you board the admin car, “This is going to hell! My people are dying at the hands of fellow performers… this is a nightmare!”
"Señor Oblique, this is what happens when you keep knowledge of threats from your security!" Luz glared at him from underneath her mask. She then took a breath and spoke calmly but firmly, "Now, who else did you hire recently, where are they located, and what else are you smuggling?"
She grabbed the inside of his arm and led him back towards the admin car, "Now is not the time for secrets."
-
<<To: all: We still have three metas besides Ghost in Car 6! One has Magic. Also, we got multiple Ghouls coming in towards the Train!>> Alicia thought as she watched in horro as the spell hit Irongut. Hopefully the best they could do is Disrupt him, because if they killed him, she would track them down and kill them.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Dammit, this one talks riddles worse than the Tattoo Witch, Al thought as he soldered the last two wires. And all I wanted was a consarned light. There, he felt the cab shift slightly as he confirmed he had rudimentary steering back.
The ghoul in the building was futilely stabbing at the windscreen with a wooden broomstick.
Down on the floor, the accelerator had taken a lot less damage. Shouldn’t take long.
The ghoul had disappeared back into the apartment and reappeared with a big fire extinguisher. Started smashing the windshield again, now with slightly more effect.
Al was working on the floor again, and chewing on his unlit cigarette while the mysterious woman loomed over him, he decided he’d had enough, and unloaded with both barrels. Growling while he worked, he said, “Listen, hon, ol’ Al ain’t gon’ pretend he knows what in the name o’ blessed creation yer on about. Don’t know yer bizniss with this here circus, and shore as hell don’t know yer bizniss in this here cab. But dammit all ta hell, there’s a code among smokers, ancient, universal, and fucking inviolable. Feller asks ya fer a light, then ya damned well give the sumbitch a light, or shore as shootin’, baby, you are messin' with the natural order o' things an' there gon' be hell to pay.”
Almost there on the accelerator and they’d be on their way.
Above him, the windshield started to give.
-
Ghost's head whips up at the sound of the unearthly screams of the wounded spirit. He pulls up his shotgun and carefully walks towards the Seer's room, his eyes searching for any signs of intruders.
-
//<<To:team>><<Begin forwarded message>>, @Harrier; that fast mover is likely to be a courier for those hostages.
They're planning to move them and soon.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al (car 1):
“Listen, hon, ol’ Al ain’t gon’ pretend he knows what in the name o’ blessed creation yer on about. Don’t know yer bizniss with this here circus, and shore as hell don’t know yer bizniss in this here cab. But dammit all ta hell, there’s a code among smokers, ancient, universal, and fucking inviolable. Feller asks ya fer a light, then ya damned well give the sumbitch a light, or shore as shootin’, baby, you are messin' with the natural order o' things an' there gon' be hell to pay.”
She cackles at your outburst…it as a sound like warm treacle flowing over fingers down a chalk board and does nothing for your peace of mind
“Litl puppy man, ya think Ole Meg gives a tom tit about ya code? Now, ya gunna do somfink about that pen ‘n ink…?” and she indicates the rabid looking ghoul clawing at the front canopy…
<<@Team: Ghouls are active. Repeat. Ghouls are active>>
No shit!
@Alicia (car 5):
You feel the wrench as your spirit takes the hit from the spell, the mana discharging in a wash of sparks to your enhanced sight…
@Ghost (car 5):
<<To: all: We still have three metas besides Ghost in Car 6! One has Magic. Also, we got multiple Ghouls coming in towards the Train!>>
Damn, the view is crap… you can see the open doorway and the writhing form of Alicia’s spirit but not the foe inside…
@Luz (car 3):
"Señor Oblique, this is what happens when you keep knowledge of threats from your security! Now, who else did you hire recently, where are they located, and what else are you smuggling? Now is not the time for secrets."
“There is always time for secrets and I certainly don’t have time to tell you all of mine. If I had known the damn clowns were a security risk don’t you think I would have told you? Their appointment was agreed by the Owners and they don’t usually make mistakes like this… as to who else we’ve hired, there were a couple of roustabouts some six plus months ago, before that nobody for two years…
@Flicker (west side of the convoy):
With the rear train appearing to be clear you are making your way forwards again, but where to? The reported clowns in car 5? The ones in the RV? That’s not to mention the ghouls bearing down on Cutter and the now stationary lead train
@Betsey (car 9 roof):
Your spell seeks out the astral forms of the ghouls and slams home into the flesh with a satisfying pyrotechnic display viewed on the astral… the meat world is awash with ash soaked rain and looming clouds and the grey fleshed ghouls are significantly harder to see…
@Cutter (west side of the convoy):
Your shot lifts the ghoul off its feet and it disappears into the sludge in a sliding lunge…thankfully it doesn’t then stir. It’s compatriots suddenly stagger and look confused but then charge with renewed fury
-
Seeing the now-dead ghoul's compatriots continue the charge, Cutter lets out a curse before putting on the gas to try moving forward to harry the ghouls and lure them away from the train trusting his bike's speed to keep him just out of reach.
-
“There is always time for secrets and I certainly don’t have time to tell you all of mine. If I had known the damn clowns were a security risk don’t you think I would have told you? Their appointment was agreed by the Owners and they don’t usually make mistakes like this… as to who else we’ve hired, there were a couple of roustabouts some six plus months ago, before that nobody for two years…
"I do not presume to tell you what is important in your art, Señor, and you should not presume to decide what is important in mine. Thus far, that arrogance has compromised this operation twice and has cost you the life of one of your troupe. How many more are you willing to sacrifice to save face?"
Luz turned, giving the office a sweep with her electronic senses, before turning to Oblique. "Stay here, lock the door. Once we clear the area, we will let you know." She then turned and headed towards the sounds of gunfire.
Demonios! Did this man seriously think he could leave his security in the dark? What is his game?
With a mental command, doors on her right leg part and a Savalette Guardian emerges into her waiting right hand, reaching in between the slit in her armor. With her other hand, she reaches into a pouch to secure a grenade.
Leading with the barrel of her heavy pistol, she quickly begins to clear a path to the 5th car.
-
Flicker jumps from the car and sprints toward the broken down train drawing throwing knife as he runs.
Message To Team:
On my way to the stopped train, multiple Hostiles closing on the train.
Message Complete:
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
And with those words, the big fat whatever-she-was confirmed the worst of Al's suspicions. He was a bit disappointed; he'd wanted to think better of her.
No matter. He slapped a patch on the pneumatic hose under the pedal, pumped it a couple of times, and the thrum of six hundred horsepower engaging with the drive train gave him a buzz no amount of nicotine could match. Manipulating the resuscitated controls took a bit of coordination, but just as the windscreen started to buckle he turned the wheel hard to the right and, scraping the building face more than a little, eased the cab away from the apartment block and back onto what passed in these parts for a road.
Waving sayonara to the forlorn flesheater, he offered the lady at his side his most wolfish grin. "Sorry hon, no light," and he shrugged, "then no fight."
-
Still Astrally percieving, Alicia saw Ironsides ram into one of the auras inside the Seer's quarters.
-
Ghost quickly made up his mind. There was no way he was about to walk into that doorway and make himself a target. He mentally sent out to his team.
<<@Team [Ghost] I'm going to toss a Flashbang into the Seer's quarters. Hopefully, that will be able to flush them out. It will be noisy. Ghost out.>>
Ghost lifted his shotgun and took a short breath. He knew he couldn't close his eyes or cover his ears, as he had to aim his shot. These damn dampers and flare compensation better work; they were expensive as hell.
As he pulled the trigger, there was a brief pop as the flashbang flew through the air. Followed by a blinding light and an overwhelming noise. Ghost reflexively raised his hand to shield his eyes, even though he knew it was too late to help.
He muttered under his breath, "Not my best idea."
-
Luz quickly moved through the coffin car that connected the admin car to the common room car. She had almost entered before Ghost radioed his warning, giving her enough time to stop before hearing the boom. She was glad her weak, fleshy, inner ears were replaced, without the sound filters, her eardrums would have burst, if she still had them.
Running in after the grenade detonated, she saw Ghost with his hands over his eyes.
"Vamanos! Avanzar!" she yelled, just before activating her internal air tank. With an underhand toss, she heaved the gas grenade into the car containing the murder clowns and wirelessly detonating it.
-
Alicia moved into the corridor, turning off her astral perception, and cursed as she saw the Razor girl throw a grenade into the room. Irongut was writhing, wether in pain or because of his general snakey nature she could not tell.
-
Hearing the carnage unfolding over the comms chatter, Morgan realised there was fuck all he could do to help them now combat had started proper.
He tweaked his deck loadout from the glowing VR terminal anchored off to the left of his FOV and glanced quickly at the VR terminal displaying his smartgun's camera display.
Satisfied, he pointed his right arm forwards and fired his search program out into the aether, probing the nearby radio emissions for tell tale signatures of the LAV Harrier was rushing to engage.
Located, it was time to bring this fucker down, one way or another.
He loaded his attack suite, his avatar smiling as he briefly inspected the backlit arsenal of wrist mounted weapons that crudely resembled his decoding and decryption algorythms.
Still grinning, he pointed his suite at his target, laughing a little to himself as he loosed two decryption missiles to intercept and coerce it's firewall into compliance
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan (car 4 / VR Local Grid):
Questing out into the ether you are lucky that the area is sparsely populated and you are able to pick up the hidden transmissions of the incoming LAV simply by the contrast with the background noise. Slamming into the icon you are able to mark it although not without difficulty due to the firewall on the rigger’s RCC…
More troubling is the visual feed that is playing in your peripheral vision as you detect a flash from the area that more or less corresponds with Harrier’s location and suddenly his drones go into ‘standby’ mode as they presumably lose their command connection…
@Alicia, Ghost and Luz (car 5):
Despite Luz’s precipitous launching of the gas grenade the tendrils of smoke barely make it into the corridor before you are able to slam the door controls and it slides comfortably into place…the chances of anyone inside still be standing now are very very slim! Indeed Alicia’s spell reveals a subtle dulling of the three minds inside
@Betsey (car 9 roof):
Well that wasn’t quite the result you’d hoped for…
@Cutter & Flicker (west side of the convoy):
Riding your bike with finesse you are able to stay ahead of the confused and angry ghouls but keep them sufficiently interested in you that they aren’t trying to can opener the RV…
@Al (car 1):
The train lurches back onto course and you spare a thought for what is going to happen when you begin to move too far from the stationry RV and it’s hostages… that’s only highlighted by the tinny voice of the clown as it comes across your ‘link’s speaker
<<You fuckers just don’t listen do you! We told you to back the fuck off…instead you had to go and get in the way…now this nice lady has to pay the price…>> thankfully the view screen is a little small to make out the details of what happens next
<<Right, let’s start again, these little kiddies really want to see it through the rest of the day, so we’re gunna do a trade. These two kids for one of the ones inside, the little one in the white dress calls herself the seer…that’ll do nicely. And don’t forget our new wheels, would be a shame if we have to start buying our ride with bits of baby circus freaks!>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Son of a BITCH!
Between the fat lady, the ghoul, and his light-speed repair of the controls, he’d been only half listening to the chaotic bits of drama flashing through his ‘link’s speaker. Now, the thought of a couple kids losing their parents before their eyes - the thought of what those kids must be going through right now - he couldn’t rightly get his head around it, but it had him seeing eight shades of red. It was all he could do not to ditch the cab and head straight for the RV. But he wouldn’t, because he knew some things.
First, he knew that leaving the train to lurch to another halt would put dozens more people, maybe dozens more children even, in greater danger. Ghouls, hijackers, and who knew what else - they were absolutely not going to stop moving. In fact, he started easing the accelerator toward the floor - he figured he could keep this baby going for a while at twenty-five, and that would screw with the bad guys’ plans in a whole new way. Second, someone makes threats, you do exactly the opposite of what they want - another reason to keep moving. Third, he knew he was hardly the only player on the board.
<<Dammit all ta hell, people,>> he broadcast on the open channel, not caring who could hear, in fact assuming that friend and foe alike would pick it up. <<They killin’ folk faster’n a tom eats his kittens - those pore kids gon’ be dead in a few ticks anyhow. Now quit yer lollygaggin’ an’ put all them mechanical reflexes an’ tricked out weapons ta the use the Good Lord intended an’ git in there an’ gut shoot those freaks so we kin slice up they eyeballs then skin ‘em alive later. Y’all do it now or else git the hell up here an’ take the wheel o’ this beast so ol’ Al kin show ya how it’s done.>>
Glancing to his right, he was beside himself that the creepy fat lady could see the tears starting to run down his cheeks alongside the blood trickles from his scalp wounds. Well, fuck her and the horse she’d rode in on. He’d probably just killed those two angel kids. But at this rate, another minute with those drug-addled clowns and they’d be dead anyway. Action now was their only chance. It was down to Cutter and Flicker.
And the slim hope that somewhere, deep in their chemical-clouded minds, the clowns realized that the first two kills had gotten them squat, and knew what would happen if they geeked the last of their human shields.
He knew he’d made the right call. The only call. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of a damn thing to congratulate himself about.
-
After helping Luz slam shut the cabin door to lock the clowns in with the gas, Ghost took a step back. His ears were still ringing, that damn flashbang was still affecting him.
<<Dammit all ta hell, people,>> he broadcast on the open channel, not caring who could hear, in fact assuming that friend and foe alike would pick it up. <<They killin’ folk faster’n a tom eats his kittens - those pore kids gon’ be dead in a few ticks anyhow. Now quit yer lollygaggin’ an’ put all them mechanical reflexes an’ tricked out weapons ta the use the Good Lord intended an’ git in there an’ gut shoot those freaks so we kin slice up they eyeballs then skin ‘em alive later. Y’all do it now or else git the hell up here an’ take the wheel o’ this beast so ol’ Al kin show ya how it’s done.>>
Maldito sea! What does he think? That we are just sitting around twiddling our thumbs?
Even in his frustration, Ghost understood Al's attitude. It was a very similar attitude that Ghost experienced during the final fight at Bogotá; there was so much disregard for life. Ghost wasn't what one would call sympathetic, by any means, but even he could get unnerved occasionally. He sent out:
<<@Team [Ghost] Heading to pick up my rifle, I think we dealt with these fuckers in the fifth train. Ghost out.>>
Ghost nodded briefly to Luz, and headed back to his perch on the top of the eighth train. He opened up his medkit and followed its instructions on pain killers. They didn't help much, but he had a job to do. He was damned if some flashbang was going to prevent him from doing it. He picked up his rifle and aimed towards the convoy, his eyes searching for a target.
-
Seeing one of the other team members nearby, Cutter, while harrying the ghouls sends to him <<@Flicker: Come on, take some shots while I've got 'em distracted.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan (car 4 / VR Local Grid):
Got the fragger! As your dataspike overloads the rigger’s control deck it goes offline and you can easily imagine the ensuing sparks and horrified ditch of the LAV as it loses control…
<<@Security [l’Ombre Zep]: We’ve lost contact with Harrier, can you confirm? He was going to check out the incoming sig but we’ve lost that too! What the hell is going on out there?>>
Before you can formulate a meaningful response you are distracted by the ARO that you had set up to inform you when the clowns started talking to each other, or in this case someone else
<<Intercepted Transmission: These fuckers are climbing all over us. They've taken out Maz and his crew, there's just us three left looks like. When are you lazy fuckers getting here? Pickup of the witch was supposed to be three minutes ago. Three fucking minutes and my whole team has been fragged sideways. We've got two hostages, we'll swap 'em for the witch if they know what's good for them. But hurry up and get your arse here now!>>
<<Acknowledged. Some technical difficulties with our transport but we are 300m out and closing. Stay frosty and we'll pull your sorry arses out of the fire, just make sure we have the seer or our deal is off.>>
Well that's just peachy!
@Alicia and Luz (car 5):
As you prepare yourselves for the next step the seer steps out of her quarters without a hair out of place on her head. She smiles sadly at you both
"I heard what is happening. I can't let those children be hurt for me. They can't really do anything to me anyway...can you arrange for me to talk to them? I don't want any more blood on my hands..."
This coming from a ten year old...?!
@Betsey (car 9 roof) Cutter & Flicker (west side of the convoy):
The trains are slowly pulling away from the RV and it is beginning to look mighty lonely on the edge of the convoy. The other vehicles seem reluctant to get too close and are keeping to the far tree line, something that poses a danger in its own right if one of them should get hung up on something buried in the ash off the dimly perceived asphalt roadway.
@Al (car 1):
The fat bitch caresses your arm sending deep chills down your spine...dimly you hear a snarling in your mind...nah, your imagination
"There there now deerie, doncha fret. Ole Meg's 'ere. Let it all art. Let me lit yer fag for ya, waz wat ya wanted reet? Dem poor poor kids, don't bear finking about, always hated clowns, me. Freaky!" Damn button pusher...hard to shake those images filling your mind's eye...
@Intervention (car 8):
Well that's done with. You'd intercepted the clown as he'd moved past your cubicle and given the chatter on the security channel you had a fair idea the orc with the stupid latex mask wasn't to be left to his own devices. You weren't supposed to be working, frag you were still resting from the Portland job, but having these stupid bastards interrupt the journey wasn't acceptable damn it.
He'd taken some beating and your shoulder was sore from a stray blow. You'd been fairly evenly matched in skill, the close quarters making firearms impractical, and it had taken you longer than you would have liked to take him down...
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Well, he thought as he recoiled spiritually from the beast's touch, at least I got fire now. And the moment she'd lit his cigarette, he snatched his lighter back from her.
He had the train up to fifteen miles per hour now, and once he got to twenty-five he was wondering how long he could run her at thirty without burning her up. He wasn't sure, but reckoned it was a safe bet the second train would follow. He didn't know which train this seer girl was on, but if she was what these murderin' sons of bitches were after, then he was taking her as far away from the equation as he could, as fast as he could. Let 'em deal with that.
Next he had to figure out if this pain-leech beside him was dangerous or just damned annoying. And hell, maybe he could put her to use as well. "Listen, hon, if'n it's misery an' sufferin' gits ya off, then yer gon' find a lot more of it in that RV back there. They's wastin' a whole family, tryin' ta git they hands on some little girl they call the oracle or the seer or somethin'."
-
In the blacks and sitting upon her cape, torn between the sleep she wanted and the rocking, bucking of the train, staring out the window into the dark Seattle horizon. The Portlan job had been tough, too close for the bolt action, and her HAR sitting in the top shelf right above her in the cabin. Expensive as it had been, it was worth it for the silence, and the lack of little kids running around kickin' each other in the shins. Too many shots fired because some holier than thou security guard just had to put the pride of his job on the line. There was just enough money in the job to keep her going for a few weeks, maybe long enough to consider working a mob hit... or three, they were always safe bets. And that was when her comfortable trip was shattered by the staccato of gunfire from all sides of the train. She swore, she really did, as she keyed in her commlink for the open wave, even as she demanded to herself not to get involved.
Talk of clowns and murdering kids though rather put that to bed quite quickly though, and while her blood boiled away beneath her skin in the lone cabin she switched off the lights and slipped a one-hole balaclava over the top of her head, and shifting to draw the hidden sidearm and screwing the suppressor onto it. And then a clown passed her by on the train, slowly, looking into the windows of the cabins, probably for loot to knick. She hadn't charged and the bastard would hear it. The door was flimsy at best so without further thought she put the boot to it and sent pieces of it shattering all over him. Blows were exchanged, the damn orc clown was tough. By the end of it, the cabin was a mess, as anything and everything had been used as a weapon, so whatever thoughts she had of laying low still remaining were quelled rapidly. A swift boot to the head to make *sure* he was down, and she went for the marksman rifle in the sports bag, while opening up on the security channel specifically, since there still seemed to be a coordinated defence.
"Uh, check... This is Intervention, Car 8. I hear you guys might want some help. Dropped an orc clown in my car, I'll bill ya for him," she joked, continuing, slapping the magazine into the HAR and yanking the charge handle right back and slinging it across her back before moving for the second weapon in the bag, the huge sniper rifle which got it's magazine as well, and the action worked before it was slung as well. Drawing the AR and screwing the suppressor to it. "Unless you want me to go back to sleep, I'm heading rearward for the RV. Intervention, over."
-
<<To:All//Sending spirit to protect kids with orders to attack whenever someone shoots one of them.>>
Alicia quickly called for her second spirit, a less westernized one called Zaniyah. Communicating with it on the Astral plane, Alicia asked it to protect the kids in the RV, and to also attack the clowns if someone from outside the RV shot them. With that done she turned to the seer. "Why do they want you in the first place. As for the kids don't worry. There's only three clowns left, and they'll be taken care of soon enough."
-
Well, hells. Alright, that didn't work. Have t'try something a lil' different.
With that, Rodeo closed her eyes and imagined a dust devil whirling about her form. Tapping into the idea, she lifted her arms and, in her mind's eye, drew the power of the small cyclone into herself. Opening her eyes, she could feel the magic at work. Quickened, she began to move along the top of the train to see where her next action lay.
-
Flicker remembers the days of the soaring lark, sitting on the stump watching Shinra sensei leaping into the air and his sword cutting the air like the wing of the lark. And just as he landed the bamboo pole falling apart from the swords stroke.
He almost feels for the ghoul, it is not it's fault it was ravaged by a disease that turned it into a flesh eater, but my team can not be the main course.
Flicker lives up to his name, his magically enhanced reactions kick in and all you see is a flicker as he appears at the top of the arc and his sword flashes into the motion of the lark. Master Shinra would be proud the strike is perfectly executed as he soars just past the target ghoul and lands to it's side.
-
Spector's girl friend Chika had ran out of a few of her much needed Tattooing materials. Both having grown up in Seattle and knew that some of the cheapest supplies where located in the Puyallup section of Seattle. Not wanting to go into one of the roughest parts of Seattle unprepared the two had suited up for any troubles.
On the drive the two started to hear some CrAzY stuff on the comm channels, some hostage takers and other stuff that was sure to make this trip for tattoo supplies one hell of a ride. Not wanting to be unprepared Spector took off his street hat, and sported his hood and Ballistic Mask. Well this is why I live on the edge of this place not smack dab in the middle of it. Chika nodded not really being a combat expert Chika was a little tense, most of her skills where in creating magical items and finding ways to get past boarder guards. Now Chika did have one spell for combat but she sure wasn't very good at it.
The Step Van approached the scene of all the crazy comm chatter. Chika and Spector where on the train's 6 o-clock. The two slowed down, but once Spector spotted some of the ghoul activity he pointed at them. Ok drive up with a bit of space I want to see if I can geek me a ghoul or two. Chika was not happy about the fight that was about to start but complied. << CHIKA>> Ok hun but I'm keeping this van running and make sure you stay near by. If we need to cut and run I want you in one piece.
When the van stopped Spector exited the van passenger door with three Shurikens in hand. Wearing a black hood, black trench coat and a black ballistic mask. Spector had the camera of the ballistic mask up and running, he knew that when he grew up in Seattle there was a bounty on Ghouls and you never know he might get some nuyen if he ices a few on tape. One thing, Spector might have to minus the cost of his shurikens from that bounty, since he might not get them back if too big of a hoard descends on him....
..... Spector starts eyeballing for targets.
-
"Frag it all," Cutter says to himself on getting the message about the spirit, "I'll be damned if some mumbo-jumbo critter takes those bastards down before I get my shot." With that, he decides to let Flicker take care of the ghouls and turns his bike to charge right at the door of the RV hoping to crash through to distract the foes inside and give the kiddies an opening to bolt.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Cutter (in a heap outside the RV):
Well damn, that had been a might harder than you’d anticipated but it had clearly achieved your goal of rendering anyone inside momentarily insensible! Now you just had to shake the ringing out of your ears from the awful sound of metal on metal in an impromptu exercise in fusion…
@Spector (west of the convoy):
As Chika pulls back towards the string of random vehicles you’ve just passed you look for your first target and are sadly disappointed…the ghouls, six of them, are strung out in a loose line being picked off by the defenders of the land train. They are scrawny weakened looking beasts, hardly likely to gain you much bounty. That said they are still flesh eating menaces that need to be put down for their own good…then an rending crash draws yours, and everyone else’s attention towards a stationary RV some twenty meters from your position…
@Ghost, Luz et al.
Well things are getting interesting again, Cutter has certainly opened up an entry opportunity into the RV, now it is just time to capitalise on his efforts…springing lightly off the train you are barely slowed by the sucking ash that is slowly turning to concrete under the snarling rain…
-
Rolling off the back of the bike just shortly before it impacted the side of the RV, Cutter lands in a crouched position on one knee. 'Well damn,' he thought, 'Guess the bike wasn't as strong as I thought...'
Pulling out his pistol, he takes aim on the most visible clown inside and says in a projected tone, "Let the kids go and get your sorry asses outta here now, and maybe you'll live."
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
The RV that was at the center of Al's thoughts was rapidly shrinking in his side mirror when he saw the feller called himself Cutter broadside the beast with his Suzuki rice-rocket at full-tilt.
The impact nearly tore the Bison in half. Between the rain and the distance, Al couldn't see what had happened to the human gunslinger, but dead or alive, he was buyin' that guy a drink.
Maybe those kids had a chance yet.
-
Ghost aimed for a shot, expecting to see his target through the window of the RV. Instead, through the ash, he was greeted with a reflection in the distance. Damn it!
He lowered his gun in frustration. That was when the train started moving. He almost fell off, but managed to catch himself. The only problem was, he needed to see his targets to shoot them, and he was damned if he was going to have to listen to Holier-than-thou Al about the kids.
Not that the kids weren't important either. Damn, he had almost forgotten, again! Then it hit him, there was a way he could get a shot. He could jump off the train.
No sooner did the thought enter his mind, then Ghost picked up his weapon, and jumped. Jumped with a blinding headache that is. Luckily, he landed in a pile of ash. He stood up, and looked at his arms; they were completely black.
I really hope no one saw that ...
He took a moment to reorient himself and then set off in a sprint towards the RV. He vaguely remembered some semblance of a plan, but fuck it. Ghost was going to get in visual range, and take the shot. Just like he always did.
He always took the shot.
Of course, when he took the shot, usually it wasn't after the someone rammed their vehicle into his target. Cutter had performed some move from an action trid; the RV was badly damaged. No time for awe, got to save the kids.
Ghost resumed his sprint forwards.
-
Spector Sizes up the 6 ghouls. I've seen bigger in this part of Seattle that is for sure, might as well thin these ones out before they feast enouph to put more flesh on their bones and in their guts. Spector takes one of his readied shurikens and throws it at one of the Ghouls.
As Spector lets lose the shurikens he can remember when his lone parent his father would teach him as a kid to throw these stars of death at any target the street would give them. With little to no nuyen on the streets Spector never learned about gun but these flying razors of death, since when your done you can pick the corpses of the shuriken and no nuyen lost.
With the first star in air Spector speaks into his subvocal mic already set to broad cast on all open channels.
<<Comm Open Channel>> Necro 1 and Necro 2 on site located at the 6 O-clock of this land train. Where here to hunt Ghouls, just FYI <<End Comm message>>
Spector hated to give out his street name, he has found that if he is ever on a run he would use a call sign. When using your street name if someone over hears your communication it is easy for any corp with enouph nuyen track your street name, but with a set number for each runner and a new call sign Title like Necro, alpha, wolf etc. it sure does keep the Corps from finding you as easily.
Well Spector is letting the meta humans in the area know that him and Chika where on site, Spector lines up a second Ghoul and lets the second steel cut through the air and hopefully into a second Ghoul.
-
Intervention
Will continue to move aftwards of the train from the inside, moving slowly and watching for contact of these ghouls that Spector mentioned. If she runs into them, well, that was what the HAR was for. At the moment, Intervention was making use of the bipod like a foregrip and had it on rock and roll.
-
Emerging on top of the train, Luz reaches into her pack and produces a small directional jammer; which she points at the RV.
Let's see if this little toy is worth it.
-
Movement was fluid, easy. The world seemed just a bit slower. Not enough to feel like a 'slo-mo' grid, but enough to give her an edge. The explosions and gunfire erupting all around clued her in to the presence of a group of 'Runners. Probably hired to guard the train and now doing what they were paid to do. Rodeo wasn't on retainer, but she figured that it was in her best interests to keep everything together. While the others seemed to have most things in hand, she decided they didn't need any additional distractions.
Knowing that the Wolf Spirit she had summoned was near, Rodeo pointed at the remaining ghouls.
"Sic' em, boy!"
-
Frowning, Alicia considered the petite girl. "True name? Why don't you tell me what you are? I will make no attempt to bind you or disrupt you, in return for a tale." Through her connection, she could feel her animal twin's curiosity as well. There were few things that could be the seer that had a true name.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Alicia (car 5):
Before the youthful seer, spirit, something else, can you reply you feel the spell lurking in the back of your mind trigger with new lifeforms coming rapidly from the north and more, spread out in a rough formation and moving at much more like walking pace approach the convoy from the east...
@All outside the train:
With Cutter's unexpected breaching of the side of the RV the ghouls have decided that this is not a healthy place to look for lunch, particularly as you rain destruction around them with sword, throwing stars, angry spirits and other mayhem...
The remaining clowns can just about be glimpsed inside the RV through the windows that no longer fit the deformed sides of the vehicle...
@Al:
Doing your best to ignore the bloated form beside you and steer with the aid of an impromptu lever stuck into the console where once the wheel would have been in an unrigged variant you are almost at the point of congratulating yourself when the turbulent air outside the crazed windshield is whipped into a frenzy...as if an illusion has been dropped, the road in front of you, or more precisely the air space immediately above it, is filled with the hornet like form of a heavily modified Aztechnology model LAV. Your 'link's display shows the open ARO being projected into the air before you
<<HALT THE CONVOY>>
In case you missed the point some kind of rotary machine gun mounted near the chin of the beast chews up the ash and asphalt in front of your path...
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al's first thought was to roll a corpse onto his patched accelerator and bail. But he knew that, without steering, the land-train wouldn't get far before it ran off the road again, and then it'd be stopped just the same.
And once they were stopped, they were all in a world of pain and suffering.
Nope. If he could gamble with those poor kids' lives, he'd just have to do the same with his own. These child-murderers wanted a stationary target, and he sure as hell wasn't going to give it to them.
Pushing the gas all the way down, he squatted down in the gore below the dashboard and tried to pull Tyrone down on top of himself. The huge troll was too heavy, though, even without a head, and wouldn't budge. Plus Al's hands kept slipping on all the blood. That left Frank or the unconscious but still-breathing clown.
Well, the clown was wearing armor.
Draping the highjacker's body over his own, he was blind straight ahead but hoped his hand, the only thing above the dashboard, could keep the train on the road if he just kept the buildings - still visible out the side window - at a steady distance on his left.
Then he called on the voodoo gods for a bullet barrier and prayed to the man upstairs that that - plus the engine block, the clown, and two armor jackets - would stop a minigun barrage.
He reckoned he'd soon find out if anyone up there was listening.
-
Morgan froze with indecision for a second, should he continue the attack and take the T-bird down or pay attention to why the fuck there was a T-bird with a fucking big gun spinning up there in the first place.
Opting for diplomacy, he rattled off a basic ARO in reply:
//WHY????//
-
Spector spots the ghouls are retreating but that doesn’t stop him from letting another flying start of death find it’s way to the ghouls. You never know if you let them retreat they could regroup and attack someone else, if not today maybe when these skinny ghouls get hungry enouph someone else will be picked clean for food. Can’t just let that happen. With Spector’s hands free of silver death stars he quickly grabs a few more getting ready to size up another ghoul, when he hears someone makings demands.
With a helicopter waiting to unloose hot lead on the train, Spector is glad they approached from the rear of the train. Not 100% sure who’s on the right side Spector keeps to killing ghouls until he can find out a bit more about what is going on. Besides a shuriken ain’t doing much to that helicopter that is for sure.
-
With the lack of an answer from the clowns in the RV, Cutter says in a growl, "On your head it is then. You could have fled and lived." With that he recenters his aim on the most visible one and squeezes the trigger.
-
With her augmented vision, Luz sees the mustached pilot's blackheads. The crosshairs of her Smartlink move from the bottom as she raises her Colt M23 taking aim at his exposed face as she gently squeezes the trigger.
-
Ghost keeps moving towards the now-crumpled RV. There are a whole bunch of messages and AROs, and even a fragging chopper is mentioned. Ghost waves that all away; he has to deal with these bastards first. Very soon, he sees the clowns pull into view. There is no sign of the children. If you're still alive, help is coming; if you're dead, your deaths will be avenged.
Ghost pauses to unsling his Desert Strike. Taking aim through his scope, he looks at the nearest clown. Pray to whatever gods you worship. You'll need it. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Ghost pulls the trigger.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al (car 1: huddled under a dying clown):
Frag, you can feel bodily fluids leaking on to you…still better his than yours, and much better than the feel of high velocity lead! Peeking out you can just about see the wash of the LAVs thrusters but the anticipated fusillade doesn’t come…before you can congratulate yourself on your unexpected survival your hear a roar of fire from above you…
@Luz (on top of car 5):
Fragger must be flying with the Mark 1 eyeball otherwise he’d never have a view port open…there’s still armour glass between you and your shot but despite it being a long shot you can feel your luck is with you…the round streaks away and despite the wind, rain and airborne crap it impacts squarely on the armourplex…you can’t see whether it penetrated because the LAV veers wildly but the response comes moments later as bright tracer fire screams along the top of the train at about waist height…rather than let the train crash into the LAV it swings round to the side of the road, the jet wash bending the already feeble pines down towards the ground…
@Ghost, Cutter (by the RV)
Doing your best to ignore the sounds of battle beyond you focus on the clowns still threatening the kids. Rifle and pistol rounds are barely audible above the atmospheric noise and the minigun fire in the distance but they are no less effective for that, slamming home and plunging both victims out of sight…just in time for the last rather bemused looking clown to be mangled by a pissed off spirit…
-
Seeing the clowns go down, Cutter transmits over comms <<Whoever is controlling that spirit want to see if it can get me up into that enemy T-bird?>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan
<<@Convoy [l'Ombre Zep]: Deck has been spiked, we've lost Itch...for frag's sake go wifi dark or at least silent if you aren't already, let's not make it any easier for these bastards...>>
-
<To:All // We have inbounds from the East. Are the kids okay?>
-
//LAV has gone dark anyway. I'm going down for a reboot, back shortly.//
Morgan put the system down for a reboot, feeling the snap of reality his nervous system as he emerged from VR back into his meat shell.
This was starting to look really really bad and he questioned his sanity for sticking around. What the fuck had gotten these guys so hacked off with a circus of all things that a minigun armed LAV was now strafing the convoy?
-
Pieces of circus equipment exploded around Luz as she dived for cover. Apparently I need a bigger gun next time.
>>Take that cabrón down!<<
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al (car one)
With the LAV taking pot shots overhead towards Luz you risk peeking up from beneath your living, well barely, shield to peer through the crazed windshield just in time for the world to get turned upside down in a welter of fire and sound. The cabin lurches to your right and with a grinding noise just about audible above the ringing in your ears the train car pitches sideways as if something has just taken out the balloon tyres on that side...
@Luz (car five)
As you duck under the fusillade of tracers you see the heat signature flash of something projected out of the gloom from way beyond the treeline at the side of the road...with appalling accuracy you see the grenade air burst along the side of car one, the whickering flashing shrapnel ripping the balloon tyres to shreds. The whole train shudders as the lead car pitches to one side and grinds into the ash...
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
"Ever…lovin'…pig…huggin'…gator…kissin'…son…of…a…BITCH!"
Rolling a big rig, the only question - the one you staked your life on - was would she roll ninety degrees or one-eighty? The first, you rely on your belt, the other, you go to the floor and wait for the weight of the undercarriage to flatten the cab like a spent beer can. Well, he was on the floor now, which would have been handy if he wasn't pretty sure she'd go ninety, and he sure as hell didn't have time to haul Frank or Tyrone out of their seatbelts. So he thrust his left arm up and forced it between Tyrone's gut and his belt - there was plenty of blood on both of them to ease the passage.
Big rides roll slow, especially at under thirty, but don't tell that to any poor bastard inside of one when it goes over. Next thing Al knew, the clown was thrown down against the right passenger window - already spiderwebbed from stray buckshot, he went through an instant before impact and his head was crushed under the door frame.
Watching he whole thing as if in slow motion as he hung suspended from Tyrone's carcass, Al hoped the masked low-life had woken up in time to see it coming. Doubtful, but the sound, at least, had been satisfying. A dense cloud of ash had billowed up through the tight space from the broken window, and he couldn't see a damned thing. Once the skid had stopped, he waited a tick for the secondary impact of the second car rear-ending him. He congratulated himself on not passing out. Then he turned his attention to extracting himself from a tiny space crammed full of three mangled corpses, himself, and a giant but somehow unhurt fat lady, all of whom he could feel and smell, if not see. His arm felt like it had been ripped from its socket, and in fact it had. With his right hand he pulled his knife, and the serrated edge made short work of the nylon restraint. His boots landed lightly on the clown, ahd he popped his humerus back into the shoulder joint pretty as you please. He'd heard that for most people that hurt.
By his reckoning, at this point all he had was the thin roof of the cab between him and whoever had the firepower to blow out a 3200-gallon hardened rubber tire. He needed to move, and he needed to do it before the dust cloud settled. Grabbing his weapons but leaving his tools (bastards would pay), he kicked out what was left of the windshield and high-tailed his way around to the west side of the rig.
-
Alicia reached out to Zaniayh to give him instructions. Investigate the group of lifeforms approaching from the East. If they attack the train or any of it's occupants, or the children, kill them. And then the world went mad as the train shuddered to a stop.
>>To:All
>>What the heck just happened?
-
Knowing he was probably being actively hunted for his assault on the Rigger, Morgan logged into the host with his newly rebooted deck and gave the command to launch IC.
If their decker wants to play, he can play on my soil with my friends
-
Seeing--and more vividly, hearing--the lead car of the convoy tilt over onto its side, Cutter lets out a curse, "What the frag is going on now?" With that, he steels himself and gets down low as he moves toward the toppled car, trying to stay as stealthy as he can.
-
Spector is dumb founded by the onslaught that is taking pace around him. He just wanted to make some nuyen and geek a few flesh eaters, it seems this is on crazy train he decided to help out.
With a massive LAV raining lead from up on high Spector does his best to approach the three ghouls he had dropped with his flying blades of death. Chika was doing her best to stay close to Spector. Spector looks around as he reclaims his three shurikens hoping he might not have a bunch of lead rain down on him.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Hunting rifle in hand, Al was trotting along the west side of the halted train, making the best time he could with ash sludge trying to suck his Docs off his feet with every step. At least the driving rain was washing a little of the blood off his head and face. There had been a lot of comm chatter in his ear over the past few minutes, and he was playing it back in his ear as he moved - without dead spaces it only took a few seconds.
No one had answered the Reeves lady’s question about the kids, but he’d heard Cutter ask for a lift up to the hostile bird, so he figured what was done was done, and he was glad the biker daredevil was alive. If the kids were too, hell, he’d buy the feller drinks for a month.
Now, without a train to drive or kids to fret about, it was real crystal what came next. <<All right everyone, it’s abundantly clear these jokers is after someone called the Seer, whoever that is. Everyone that can, converge on her.>>
Unfortunately, he couldn’t follow his own advice since he wasn’t clear where she was - and if their comms were compromised, he didn’t want to ask on the air. Glancing around to see if the fat lady was still dogging him, he climbed up into the first car and asked the first coherent person he could find where he could go to get his fortune told.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Morgan:
Once again entering the teepee-looking host, you are once again on the side of a green mountain. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle are just as before, but now there are no personas readily visible. The sinuous eastern dragons that had been been winding their way across the sky on your last visit are now perched atop the fantastic structure at the mountain’s peak. One is nursing an injured foreleg. The aerial creatures that had been swarming around them are now in total disarray - some stopped mid-air and flickering, others flying far off into the distance, others clinging to the scales of the dragons.
Here to take advantage of the hosts defenses, you make for the protection of the castle. The front gates are wide open, but the moment you cross the threshold, you spot two personae waiting in ambush. The one with the better resolution quickly raises his hands in a conciliatory gesture, and you recognize him as one of the deckers attached to the convoy. The other persona, a huge mastiff, is clearly his IC backup.
“Asshole came in, made a real mess, took out my partner. Then he faded. I’ve overwritten every entrance but this one, and the zep’s offline. We’re ready for his next play, no sign of him for a while now.”
@Luz:
For a long few seconds, the damned minigun had chased Luz from one refuge to the next, tearing through anything she took cover behind. And with each dash, the gunner was clearly doing a better job of compensating for her amazing sprint speed.
Now, however, she’d found a spot atop the third car between what appeared to be two huge bundles of canvas, each the size of a light truck. Circus tents? Whatever, the gun couldn’t touch her here.
After a moment, the firing stopped. After what had felt like forever with her ears bombarded by wind and rain, the tortured whine of the convoy’s overtaxed engines, gunfire and screams all around, and the roar of the minigun on her heels, it was suddenly almost serene. The convoys were stopped, the outriders scattering, the small arms fire had died down. All she could hear was the voice of that annoying little man in her commlink telling her to protect the Seer, plus the oh-so-near thrusters of the LAV - clearly sound-baffled for smuggling - hovering just out of her reach.
And every few seconds, the bastard fired a burst into her canvas shelter, just to warn her not to show her head.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
The first coherent person Al found turned out, in fact, to be an athletic-looking woman with a scrubbed face, pulled-back hair, and a fluorescent orange onesie. She was cowering with at least a dozen other circus folk behind various crates and bales in the train’s storage car, the first behind the cab.
“Listen, hon, ya know where a feller could git his fortune told?”
But all she did was stare at him.
The others in the car likewise tensed.
Glancing to his left, Al saw himself in a mirror. It was full-length, one of those crazy house jobs that made you look tall and skinny in places, short and fat in others. And in this case, bloody all over. The little man sighed - once again he found himself covered literally head to toe in gore. The ash clinging to the human ooze did nothing to soften his appearance, nor did the rifle he held in one hand.
And just when he realized what all these scared folks were seeing, he heard a familiar Cockney voice ring out from nowhere in particular: “Is ‘im, the Ripper his own self, fresh from a’butcherin’ the wee Crawford bairns!”
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
As events unfolded, Alicia found herself with more and more to think about.
The small girl appeared to be considering her reply when Alicia sensed the approach of new players, and was simultaneously informed by Zaniayh that the hostage-taking clowns had been killed, a report confirmed by her spell.
Sending Zaniayh to investigate the approaching life forms, a message came over the communications web. She didn't recognize the call sign, but apparently some other members of the circus had entered the disabled Bison after the security team had killed the clowns. It was confirmed that the parents were both dead, and that the children were now being cared for.
When the train slammed to a halt, Alicia was nearly thrown off her feet. But she could perceive, as her spirit did, that there were seven individuals approaching the train through the trees, spread out in a rough line. One was clearly a mage. The attack that stopped the train, however, did not appear to have come from any of the seven people, so the spirit was taking no action as yet. And so far, the trees appeared to have screened its presence from the other mage.
Considering her next command, the little girl finally took the opportunity to speak. "Thank you for helping the children. I appreciate what you are doing, and so would be happy to tell you a tale if you wish. But is now the time? You seem to have a lot going on."
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Clowns rapidly dispatched, Ghost watched as Cutter wasted no time in disappearing back into the dust swirls in the direction of the train.
Shortly thereafter, another RV showed up and one of the circus families Ghost recognized from earlier in the day rushed into the vehicle, a middle-aged woman shouting to him, "We'll see to the kids!"
And then, as he turned his attention to the train, now a few hundred meters uprange, he heard a muffled blast and saw the whole thing grind to a halt as the cab the annoying little hick Al had been driving tipped over onto its side, and an LAV hovered above the train like a giant insect, spitting fire down onto someone running along the roof.
Al's voice was on the commlink bossing everyone around again, telling them to converge on the seer.
So many fun things happening, and so few bullets….
-
Morgan took stock of the situation. It was bad...
Shit... He here to just wreck stuff or was he in here for a reason? we're gonna need that link to the zep back up. You heard anything from them? they still flyin?
-
"Agreed. We need to get to a safer place."
Alicia began to move towards the train engine. There should be a member of the security team piloting it, she thought as she motioned for the Free spirit to follow her with one hand, pulling out her Ares with the other.
>>To:All
>> I have the seer and am making my way to the cab. I'd really appreciate it if someone could come over and give me a hand. We have seven approaching from the east through the trees, one of them is a mage.
-
Damn it; Oblique really fucked up. This is starting to seem like Bogotá all over again.
Ghost glances forwards out of habit. Readout shows 13 bullets. He feels the familiar weight of his spare clips in his pocket. More than enough.
<<@Team [Ghost] Kids are good; on my way to the back of the cab. I assume you all can handle the LAV?>>
Ghost takes a moment to reorient himself and sets off in a sprint towards the trains. When this is over, I'm going to do something safer. Like assassinating politicians.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
The other decker's persona was pretty high rez - high enough that Morgan could see how stressed the guy was. But he was keeping his shit together.
"She's still airborne, and we're still connected to the pilot's commlink, but the bastard took out Itch so fast, he found the zep's icons and bricked half its systems before they could pull the plug. They're spotting for us as best they can, but visibility down there is crap."
He was splitting his attention between Morgan and the castle gate - the one entrance he'd left to the host.
"That was righteous what you did to the T-bird - you didn't see me but I was right behind you - maybe should've been back here with my wingman, though…bastard scrambled his brain good. Their decker was hot on your heels, though, and when you rebooted he came for us here. But then, he just faded. No idea where went. I'm pretty sure his meat is in the T-bird, though. Least that's what it looked like.
"Anyway, I've got this place locked down, and all the train's critical devices are safe in here on our WAN. None of your people, though…"
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al was deciding between hunting down the annoying fat lady or placating the natives, when he heard Ms. Reeves' message. He started to vocalize - text option on - <<Negatory negatory, cab's a wreck, hon.>> As usual, he had a lot more to say, but was interrupted by a shrill "HUUUUUUMAN CANNONBAAAAAAL" coming from a diminutive projectile covered in a fire engine-red leather jumpsuit and star-spangled half-helmet. It shot down the length of the car and slammed into his chest, tossing him flat onto his back and knocking every ounce of wind from his lungs.
With some effort he slowly raised his head from the deck, only to see the individual that had presumably projected the miniature human projectile - a great burly hulk of a hairy man who had apparently been showering when the attack struck, as he was clad only in a - no, wait - to Al's terror the towel fell from the hirsute fellow's loins as he ran full-tilt toward the bewhiskered dockworker. "But I'm on yer side…" he protested feebly as the huge wet naked man leapt into the air and belly-flopped down upon him.
And somewhere in the distance, the cloying Cockney voice kept egging them on.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Alicia
Al's message jived with the train having stopped so suddenly, which was not a good thing as Alicia's spell now reminded her that the seven newcomers were now within spitting distance. Glancing out a window confirmed what her mystical senses told her, as she saw furtive movement just at the treeline, not five meters from where the train was halted.
If ahead to the engine was no good…she glanced out the window back toward the rear, just in time to see two armed figures in dark armored jackets break cover and make for either end of the train car she was in.
And the little girl, calm as a summer morning, said, "Thank you for saving the children, but there are many more poor souls on this train who are about to suffer." She shrugged. "There's really no possible harm in giving them what they want."
Alicia had seen a hell of a lot of spirits dematerialize, and she could see that was what this one was about to do.
And then the ceiling erupted in thunder.
@Luz
Suddenly, the T-bird thirty meters above her, renewed its steady barrage of suppressive fire on her position, and at that moment did she hear a muffled whump? and then a huge fiery blast on the roof of the car. Even shielded by the bundles of tent tarp, the blast jarred her teeth painfully and sent warnings through her diagnostics.
Whatever had taken out the tire was trying to zero in on her, and it wouldn't take it long.
@Ghost and Cutter
Sprinting back toward the train, the two sammies first saw the lead cab do a roll and the following cars stack up behind it like a Slinky coming to a halt.
The second train veered to the left, coming to a stop with about half its length off the road to the west fo the main train.
All around the train, despite the pounding rain, there were great swirls of dust as the braking land trains and the downdraft of the T-bird's thrusters kicked up a special kind of ash hell.
The T-bird was engaging someone on the roof, and as the two men arrived on the west side of the train - fully aware of the approaching threats from the east - they could hear a cacophony of screams, moans of pain, and cries of panic from the crashed train's occupants.
And then a high-explosive blast went off on top of the third car.
-
Shit, shit, shit!
Ghost kept moving forward, mentally sending out.
<<@Team [Ghost] What the hell is going on over there? Give me a sitrep, anything will help.>>
Knowing that there is one person who was definitely available, he sent out a private message.
<<@Cutter [Ghost] I know we don't know each other that well, but we have to trust each other. How do you want to handle this? We're spread too thin as it is, but I don't see a choice. You want to handle the train or the hostiles coming in from the east?>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Knowing she had seconds or less before the next grenade found her position, Luz was calculating the least exposed way off the roof. But as the steady stream of machine gun fire tore at the area damaged by the first grenade, the answer opened up before her - literally.
Well, the little man had said to converge on the seer, and as far as Luz could recall, this was the car the little fortuneteller was in.
Risking being riddled by bullets, she launched herself across the exposed few meters to the new hole in the roof and dove. At the last moment, however, a couple of rounds hit her left cyberleg, throwing her off balance enough that instead of landing in the car in a practiced roll, she struck the floor head first.
And everything went to black.
-
Dogmeat noticed the massive firefight in the horizon, he took position on a nearby hill, left VR and activated the drones. The familiar humming sound of the rotors filled the air. With some dramatic gestures he channeled mana out of his body, and made his top drone invisible. It was painful, he felt the mana burns his body as it came out. He looked at them with concern... observing them for a short while.
Bad dog, can you please hide us with your powers, stealth seems to be good for us.
it is not perfect I but it may give my old dogs some edge rushing into combat. I hope you are safe my dogs of war he said to himself.
Come here Bad Dog, you are coming with them, he said to the air where he thought the spirit was located, Bad dog gracefully materialized in a slightly different location… oh you are there I am so sorry I never learned how to look into your world Bad Dog. He then said out loud even tough it was not necessary as he was mentally linked to the spirit: "Go with the drones, attack anyone that is hostile to the crazy dogs. You are smart enough, you'll figure it out"
He sent the three rotor drones into the combat along with bad dog. He hoped bad dog will behave himself that spirit very well... he had no more services anyhow.
He then pulled out his horizon flying eye, and whispered softly as if it was listening: Little dog, you watch my ass while I do my work, patrol around the car and let me know if anything approaches us.
He activated the RCC, and issued the matching orders: Then he said, lets augment the dogs as they go: he picked the targeting program, that one will be useful, the maneuvering one as well, and well let’s give them some stealth as wellwill mesh well with the invisibility spell, and clear sight for the little one.
With some AR gestures the RCC begun broadcasting the software to the drones.
He then picked his cyber deck and set behind the car: it will provide some nice cover should anyone come charging. What do we do now he said to himself:
Let’s see if the other runners are still alive – this time I will tell them that I am one person. Other people do not treat drones and Spirits like human beings.
@Team(Dogmeat) – HI all reinforcement is here! The mad dogs are here we are 4 drones, 1 spirits and me. I am not disclosing my location as I am not sure who is listening but I am nearby. I have sent 3 rotor drones and a spirit that looks like a naked indian your way please do not shot at them these things are expensive. If you are still alive please let me know where they are needed, and what guys are the bad guys.
He drunk some water. VR makes me so thirsty he said to himself. We must stay in the meat world so the dogs stay invisible he reminded himself. Lets see if there is anything worth hacking, he pulled out his cyberdeck and performed a matrix search, he watched as icons started to pop out his visuals.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Cutter was just opening his mouth in reply to Ghost when a seven-foot being appeared out of nowhere directly in front of him. It was a naked woman, skinless too, all perfectly defined muscles done in red, like an anatomy book illustration - only the ones in the medical texts didn't have flames running randomly across their surfaces.
A fire spirit, and a big one.
You asked for a lift?
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
One ear was against the deck and the other had a fat roll of wet armpit flab in it, but Al still heard the blast on the roof of the next car. He needed to move, but that would be no easy proposition. The Blob here was just protecting his own, and Al respected that no end. He didn’t want to hurt him, but if he didn’t find some wriggle room soon, he’d asphyxiate right here on the spot.
Keeping a grip on his rifle with his right hand, he pressed his left against the man’s ribcage - it sank deep into loose flesh before it found bone - and pushed, twisting his body. He wasn’t so much trying to move the huge man, which would have been futile, as much as trying to push his own weight free from under the immovable object. It wouldn’t have been possible had the man not been soaking wet from his shower (Al fervently hoped that all this damp wasn’t pre-shower), but as it happened things were plenty slippery enough that he managed some headway.
He’d just gotten the upper half of himself free, and could breathe a bit better, when the Cockney voice called out, “Gettin’ ‘way, ‘ee is. Have at ‘im.” Near the ceiling directly above him, Meg’s face faintly materialized just long enough to give him a smirk and a wink.
Which was enough that he never saw the cast-iron frying pan coming.
Ouch!
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Cutter was just opening his mouth in reply to Ghost when a seven-foot being appeared out of nowhere directly in front of him. It was a naked woman, skinless too, all perfectly defined muscles done in red, like an anatomy book illustration - only the ones in the medical texts didn't have flames running randomly across their surfaces.
A fire spirit, and a big one.
You asked for a lift?
Taking a step back at the sudden appearance of the skinless...creature, Cutter gives a tentative nod and says, "If you can get me up into that vehicle laying full-auto fire, I should be able to take out the pilot."
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Cutter
The fire lady smiled. "Me, I can get into it, but penetration's not in my job description. You, I can get onto it. Whaddaya say, cowboy, you ready to mount up?"
@Ghost
Glancing over toward Cutter, it was easy to see why he'd been too distracted to respond. But after a few moments of disturbing silence, Oblique responded to Ghost's general call for a sitrep. The dwarf's voice couldn't quite be characterized as panicked, but calm wouldn't have been quite the right word either. "Dammit, get you and all your people to train three. The girl is what their after, and that is the one thing you cannot let them have. They're converging on her there now."
And as if to confirm the circus boss's words, Ghost could see armed figures climbing up the crumpled links between cars, making for the north and south doors of the lead train's third car.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
As the drones and spirit sped towards the train, Dogmeat scanned the virtual world at the site of the trouble. There was a host - a castle on a hill with two long eastern dragons perched atop it - obviously representing the trains. And there were flocks of other icons scattered around it - vehicles and personal commlinks doubtless belonging to both the train's occupants and its gaggle of outriders.
He was looking for something that corresponded to the position of the big vectored thrust T-bird, as it was the only thing he could see that was definitely hostile to the train. But bupkus, nada, zilch. He could find nothing there.
Switching over to the sensor feed from his drones, he got the usual rush as the POV rushed toward target like a deadly roller-coaster car, hugging terrain features as the little birds carried their sensor suites whizzing toward their destination. On the approach, he saw the LAV's automatic weapons fire, as well as some sort of explosion, tear a hole into the roof of the lead car on the third train, which a female form broke from cover and dove into.
Visual spectrum visibility on the ground was terrible, but on thermo he could see two figures approaching the train on foot from the west, and another two figures emerging from the trees on the east and splitting off to pincer the north and south ends of the lead land-train's third car.
And there were lots more - all up and down the train people were climbing aboard, others were climbing out. A few were on the roofs of other cars. More were inside the treeline to the east. And there were scattered vehicles ranging from bikes to RVs scattered around and trailing over the past half klick.
Not to mention the big zeppelin that hung motionless in the air about a hundred yards behind the train.
-
No icon? Dogmeat thought to himself, their computer guy seems to be good. Too bad we’re on different sides this time. I hope it is not anyone I like. He thought to himself, I obviously cannot hack what I cannot see… hacking will not bring us the win on this one we are too late for being polite. He turned off the deck.
Switching to the drone feed; he saw the focused attack on that car. There must be some item of value in there. He issued an order to his dog of wars “Do not let anyone but me approach car 3, suppression fire preferred, direct targeting if they fire at you, Bad Dog or anyone in car 3.”
He issued another message in AR: “little dog, race before me and enter car 3, I need the visual from inside.” He set the car to autopilot, while taking cover in the trunk. This is no time to be a hero… I am too old for this shit… one last time. Get in, rescue the wounded and get away. During the bumpy way he sends another message to the circus security network:
@Team(Dogmeat):
Anyone is still alive in there? Charlie Shmidt my fixer sent me with reinforcements for the security. I have all the equipment but no context. So I am currently running my own show, if no one replies I assume you are all dead and will focus on evicting as many survivors as I can. Anyhow, do not approach the third car of the leading train; my drones are securing the area. If you are alive and want to help, contact me so I add you to the *NOT KILL* list.
His thoughts wonder as the ride proceeds, he focuses his thoughts and contact his spirit:
“Bad Dog… no one is answering on the circus network, so I do my own thing. I started a rescue operation with the car … in my physical condition, it may also be goodbye. I’ll appreciate it if you can enter that train car and understand what they are after. The hostiles definitely seem interested in that car – there must be something important in there. Good luck and thanks for your services i am coming to fight with you.
P.S if you take a look inside, let me know if you understand what they are after.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Cutter
The fire lady smiled. "Me, I can get into it, but penetration's not in my job description. You, I can get onto it. Whaddaya say, cowboy, you ready to mount up?"
"Up, up and away, my Lady," Cutter says to the fire spirit with a wry grin, "Now, once I'm up there, I'd be oh so grateful if you could make a hole for me to get in. I'd really owe you one for that little favor."
OOC Note: I'd be willing to let the spirit have 5 points of the Karma I've earned up to this point from posting to "make a hole".
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
The she-flame smirked, and Cutter could see in her eyes all the crazy and unfathomable machinations his offer had conjured in her head.
Deal, Bonebag. Hang on.
They embraced, and they were aloft. She deftly avoided the gun's vector, and in a few breathless moments they were on the starboard wing of the bucking LAV next to the fuselage door.
Then she let go of him and disappeared.
Then Al, Ghost, Alicia and the others heard (or read, depending on their active media) the arrival of someone called Dogmeat, along with an immediate reply: @Dogmeat (L'Ombre Secforce) <<Nice timing. Oblique told us you were coming. Terrorists have seized third car, lead train. We are moving to recapture, approaching from east. Interdict their reinforcements from all other approaches. Deadly force authorized.>>
-
Then Al, Ghost, Alicia and the others heard (or read, depending on their active media) the arrival of someone called Dogmeat, along with an immediate reply: @Dogmeat (L'Ombre Secforce) <<Nice timing. Oblique told us you were coming. Terrorists have seized third car, lead train. We are moving to recapture, approaching from east. Interdict their reinforcements from all other approaches. Deadly force authorized.>>
[/quote]
Doogmeat, quickly changed orders do not fire to the east unless fired upon.
"Do not let anyone but me approach from any other direction. Direct targeting is approved, ping me when you engage brave dogs - so I can jump in to help."
He then transferred the message to Bad Dog via mental link, adding " So some of them are still alive..."
He then text-ed back: @L'Ombre (L'Ombre Secforce) - Roger that, I am ordering my drones not to shoot at stuff from the east. They'll do their best to slow down anyone that come from all other directions. Contact me again before you brake in, I may have a couple of goodies for you.
-
[Thursday September 26th, 2075, Crime Mall, Puyallup, Seattle]
The she-flame smirked, and Cutter could see in her eyes all the crazy and unfathomable machinations his offer had conjured in her head.
Deal, Bonebag. Hang on.
They embraced, and they were aloft. She deftly avoided the gun's vector, and in a few breathless moments they were on the starboard wing of the bucking LAV next to the fuselage door.
Then she let go of him and disappeared.
Before the spirit releases him, Cutter grabs onto the door leading into the fuselage, giving a nod of thanks, and once the entity vanishes, he reaches for the emergency release on the door to open it and roll inside pulling his Colt back from its holster and slamming a fresh clip into it.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Dogmeat's transmission was met with a veritable flurry of replies. Those listening on voice media quickly lost any coherent feed amid the noise of simultaneous messages attempting to drown one another out. On a screen it was a bit easier to follow, if anyone but Dogmeat himself had time to pay attention - it seemed four or five new senders were claiming they were the circus's security force and to disregard the first message, while the first sender vehemently claimed they were the lone surviving element desperately in need of assistance.
And speaking of calls for assistance, the one thing Cutter heard over the roar of the thrusters through the open door was a voice from the T-bird's cockpit - "What the…I think they fucking boarded me, man. Where's that spirit cover?"
Which led Cutter to reflexively glance out the door, where he saw the look of surprise on the face of the fading fire elemental as some sort of ripple of turbulence struck it head on, and then there was an inrush of steam through the door, and it slammed shut.
He was left in a smallish cabin lined with six jump-seats - three on each side. In the one closest to the open cockpit door, a heavyset fellow with a bald, tat-covered head and earlobes that were stretched to his shoulders by silver and gold inserts was strapped in securely. A good thing since his head lolled helplessly. He would have looked dead if his fingers weren't still twitching in some sort of reflexive dance across the surface of a high-end deck.
Then the deck see-sawed as the bird abruptly started a steep climb. leaving the bold sammie scrambling for some sort of purchase.
-
Dogmeat understood that no new information will come out of this mess. He continued with his drone orders, and in order to escape the harsh reality transit in the safety of the trunk, he disengaged, and jumped into his invisible rotor drone.
Lets snoop inside, I hope they don't spot me, he thought as he maneuvered the drone into the hole in the car.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Dogmeat
Descending gingerly through the hole, careful not to clip a rotor on dangling bits of debris, the drone/Dogmeat found it/himself in a tight supply closet, and on the floor was a moaning individual, though its sensor signature read more like a robot than a person. Virtually the entire exterior, at least, was metal, and the face was covered with some sort of mask.
The door to the closet was closed.
-
[Thursday September 26th, 2075, Crime Mall, Puyallup, Seattle]
Dogmeat's transmission was met with a veritable flurry of replies. Those listening on voice media quickly lost any coherent feed amid the noise of simultaneous messages attempting to drown one another out. On a screen it was a bit easier to follow, if anyone but Dogmeat himself had time to pay attention - it seemed four or five new senders were claiming they were the circus's security force and to disregard the first message, while the first sender vehemently claimed they were the lone surviving element desperately in need of assistance.
And speaking of calls for assistance, the one thing Cutter heard over the roar of the thrusters through the open door was a voice from the T-bird's cockpit - "What the…I think they fucking boarded me, man. Where's that spirit cover?"
Which led Cutter to reflexively glance out the door, where he saw the look of surprise on the face of the fading fire elemental as some sort of ripple of turbulence struck it head on, and then there was an inrush of steam through the door, and it slammed shut.
He was left in a smallish cabin lined with six jump-seats - three on each side. In the one closest to the open cockpit door, a heavyset fellow with a bald, tat-covered head and earlobes that were stretched to his shoulders by silver and gold inserts was strapped in securely. A good thing since his head lolled helplessly. He would have looked dead if his fingers weren't still twitching in some sort of reflexive dance across the surface of a high-end deck.
Then the deck see-sawed as the bird abruptly started a steep climb. leaving the bold sammie scrambling for some sort of purchase.
As the T-Bird begins its steep climb, Cutter rolls to the side and grabs hold of a cargo strap near the cockpit door. Not usually one to make himself so wide open, he decides to take a risk and sends an "all access pass" subscription invite to his team's decker along with a message //Right by the rigger. Think you could piggy back off my comm to hack his shit or fry his neurons?//
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Morgan's reply was quick: <<After I fried that guy's RCC he pulled the plug, went totally offline. There's nothing I can do to him. Is their decker up there? That guy's a pain in the ass.>>
And speak of the devil, the round guy in the jump seat sat bolt upright, back in his meat.
And then the T-bird started shaking every which a way.
-
At the reply from the Decker, Cutter thinks to himself Fraggit all! Just can't be easy. With that he raises his Colt, takes aim on the jacked-in person near him and squeezes the trigger, saying in a whisper, "Go to hell, Fragger."
-
Dogmeat, carefully maneuvered outside of the hole, and then leave the drones to their mission. He jump in to the car and drive to that location, we have a robot to rescue, a tough creature like that, maybe it has some soul left, he thought to himself.
I also wonder whats behind that closed door... he really wanted to check, but he also really wanted to make it back in one piece. He spent the rest of the drive figuring out if he was brave enough to open that door and possibly look armed terrorists in the eye.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Having climbed as high as its avionics would allow, the LAV was now fully inverted and in a 7 G dive, leaving Cutter hanging from the arm of a jumpseat by one hand as he watched the decker's brains explode out the back of his head.
The door to the cockpit had long-since slammed shut, as had the door by which he'd entered, and as the T-bird leveled out and started a series of barrel-rolls, Cutter knew it was only a matter of time before his organs turned to jelly.
Dogmeat's ride was only moderately smoother as his suspension was hopelessly overtaxed by his off-road race to the action.
The only thing in his world that did smooth out was the transmissions he was picking up - the first voice, the one that had told him his friendlies were approaching from the east, had gone suddenly silent.
-
Quickly snatching the deck from the decker's hands before it falls to the floor, he tucks it into his lined coat as he maneuvered over to open the cockpit door using the door, doorframe and cargo strap he had hold of to maintain some semblance of stability as he raised his pistol and took aim on the back of the pilot's head. While getting set up for stability and the shot, he uses his trode-net to transmit to the team <<Okay, deckers get ready to hack the shit out of this T-bird. It's about to be coming down, and I don't wanna burn.>>
-
Dogmeat turned his jumped in invisible rotor drone, and begun flying to the east. Pointing the drone sensors in the direction for a complete scan... in the edge of the visual range he saw that the LAV dive towards the earth. He texted a simple message as the rotor drone advanced to the east.
He recieved cutter message, and jumped back into his meat body, just in order to leave it again, so he can enter the matrix in hot sim.
@Cutter isn't it? I can help you, what you need to is this: The cyber-deck includes a universal data cable. connect it into your com-link, and extend me a mark to the commlink. We will try a direct connection approach, as the whole thing is running silent, by the time I discover the icon it may be too late.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Unlike the decker, Cutter opened the cockpit door to find a man very much alert to his surroundings turn to look at the invader. Just as Cutter pulled the trigger the man yanked the throttle upward with both hands, entering an abrupt dive and saving his life - though just barely - as the bullet tore through the flesh of one cheek, traversed the oral cavity and exited the other cheek. The bullet went on to lodge in the already-spiderwebbed plexiglass canopy, while several teeth clattered against it amid a spray of blood.
The pilot pulled the T-bird up from its dive at the last minute, buzzing the train closely enough to shatter windows. He held the steering grips with one hand while drawing an Ares Predator with the other and taking a wild shot over his shoulder at Cutter.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
The pilot's desperate shot went wide, then Cutter's follow-on bullet tore open his brain pan.
The man's body went slack, his hands dropping from the steering, his feet lifeless on the pedals.
In the corridor of the third car, Alicia saw the north door rattling and then forced open as a lithe elven woman with an Ares Predator in each hand shouldered her way through. She did not hesitate to level both weapons at Alicia, but her shots were lost in the wall of water that suddenly appeared between the two women. The water then hit the invader like a living tsunami, carrying her to the floor and roiling atop her with deadly force.
And then she heard a distant good-bye as the little girl completed her dematerialization.
Outside, Ghost was making for the car he knew the Seer - the apparent target of this attack - was supposed to be. Visibility amid the driving rain and still-settling dust was crap - his enhancements all but guaranteed he'd be able to see his targets, but fine details were minimal. He saw that he was too late to stop the attacker on the north door, but the one on the south was still working his way through the wrecked train coupling, and he rushed for that one, firing as he ran. He was fired on in return, which diverted his attention from the fish-out-of water Jackrabbit subcompact approaching him from the north.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al’s first reaction to being hit over the head with a skillet was to simply go to sleep, wake up later when things had calmed down a bit. He was pretty sure he had enough juice left to get his eyes open, and then realized, why fight it? Discretion was definitely the better part of valor in this situation, where the folks beating him to death were the same ones he was being paid to protect.
And a man earned his way in the world, or he wasn’t no man at all.
So he held onto his consciousness but otherwise went limp, eyes shut.
A gruff male voice, very close: “I think you got him, Lorna.” The whale atop him jiggled and prodded. “He’s out.”
Mercifully, the weight was removed from his body.
A woman’s voice: “By the fae, look at the wretch. Who are these savages?”
A familiar Cockney squawk, from somewhere: “Cut the eyes out of wee Timmy Crawford’s head, he did. Drawin’ an’ quarterin’s too good. Open his throat now!”
A chorus of approval that almost persuaded him to make a break for it. Then the first woman’s voice. “Nay, we’ll not harm a sleeping man, no matter his crime. Truss him up.”
Perfect.
-
Alicia cursed as the spirit dematerialized. Still that did give them a chance. Activating her comn she started an open channel broadcast
>>To:All
-You targets completely dematerialized, so you have no reason to stay here, and you've already lost plenty. Get out of here now, and I'll let the elf go. If you agree to get out of the area, we will not continue hostilities
After sending the information she took behind the seer's door and trained her gun on the other entrance to the car.
-
As the pilot goes slack after losing half his skull to Cutter's second shot, the gunman unhooks the restraints and shoves the corpse to the side before taking the pilot's seat and plugging his comm-link into the vehicle. He then transmits to the team's deckers <<All right guys, work your magic here. I need this thing's autopilot back on now before it hits the dirt. This ol' girl will be quite the prize.>>
-
Jumping into the car, dogmeat picked a spot and parked, Dogs of war I am finally here... Secure the car, shot at anything that attacks it. Bad dog? My favorite and yet under-dressed spirit... I am glad to feel you are still around, come to my car and let’s make a cooperative effort in breaking and entering – swat style. But wait a minute – a text is coming: I need to go for just a few seconds, I'll be right back! (protect my meat while I am gone).
He texted on the security channel: Augmented action hero - nice shooting! The bad dogs are right behind you to the north - do not shoot... We came to rescue your robot friend, we do not fully understand whats going on yet.
In response to cutters 'hackers needed' post dogmeat quickly replay back. Texting he felt is more polite as it keeps your squishy voice to yourself. Voice people can play it with voice, any voice they dim fit the occasion. But he was a text person; voice is for people that just do one thing at a time. He thought.
He begun to form in reply, directly from his thoughts:
@cutter - I am so glad to read you are still alive. I could definitely use the escapism of rescuing you.... it will be a terrible waste to let the T-Bird crush into something... I have never jumped into such a magnificent beast before... he got carried away with the fantasy, but his thoughts quickly returned to the right path:
...anyhow, before I can hack the plane I need you to extend me a mark on your commlink and directly connect it to some of the planes systems. Any modern plane of this advanced should have some universal ports in the cockpit. I am preparing my hacking attack... quickly! we do not have much time left.
He directly connected the matrix preparing for some cyber heroism before leaving the trunk. I am not that ace in the meat world anyhow he thought as he quickly formed his tactics:
The symbols were running wild in dogmeats visuals as he formed the hacking plan. It was a complex set of pre defined scripts along with some freshly crafted ones merged into some mathematical formulas for signal processing and noise compensation... However, in his visual all the details formed the image of a Zorro styled masked dog. When the last bit of the picture was ready, he texted cutter again:
I am ready cutter, extend me the mark and we will reclaim this wonderful plane of yours. But be quick, as I do not feel very safe right now there are guns bunnies, spirits and evil dudes running around shooting stuff.
-
<<Sending subscription invite now.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Running steadily through the rain with his rifle shouldered and on target, Ghost saw his enemy's muzzle flash as a bright green flare on his thermo overlay, and felt a couple of telltale thuds on the harder spots in his armor - lucky. Close enough to see the big, long-haired guy, he squeezed off a shot targeting center the man's head. But he moved so fast Ghost would have thought he'd just vanished, if his heat signature wasn't bleeding out from behind the iron train car coupling.
Alicia heard the shooting outside the south door, and kept her weapon trained there. Her eyes, however, couldn't resist glancing back at the swooshing sounds of struggle on her six, and she felt as much as saw the spirit's self-satisfied smirk as the hapless elven woman flailed, ever more feebly, under its watery weight. Returning her attention toward the south, her gaze passed the windows the looked out onto the treeline to the east, where she knew more of the attackers were.
She could just make out a tiny form appearing in the center of a clearing just inside the treeline, and she knew it was a little girl.
And then a new voice through her 'link: <<If this is someone in authority, then tell your people to stop shooting. We'll do the same, and if our girl's still alive we'll deal for her.>>
And then a lone human figure with huge dredlocks broke for the trees heading for the north door, and big red cross ARO shining bright over his head.
<<Dammit!….And please don't shoot Rasta Boy.>>
-
>>To:All (Security Team) Channel
>>There target is giving herself up. They're willing to make a truce if we stop shooting at them. I'm just a hitchhiker, it's you people's call.
Alicia didn't want the free spirit to suffer, but there was the people of the carnival to think of as well.
-
With the pilot dead, the plane was less defended, indeed Dogmeat easily overcame the firewalls and protective software that remained active. He quickly jumped in to the plane, he did not know much about piloting air crafts but he knew the basics. He stabilized the plane and looked in to the visuals scanning for targets.
He send a text message:
Cutter - lets blow up something. help me find a target... I am posting the entire thing also on the planes AR visuals so you will feel as if you are flying this beast. Make sure I do not kill anyone you like.
-
Cutter lets himself sort of 'fall' into the pilot's seat as the aircraft is brought under control with a sigh of relief and watches the controls as the team's rigger pilots to get a gist of how to operate such a beast.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
After bouncing about in the sky more erratically than anyone watching had ever seen an aircraft maneuver, including two near collisions with the train itself, the vector-thrust vehicle seemed to regain its composure, and now was making a tight circle back to the train, moving into attack position.
Meanwhile, on the ground, the dredlocked man with the red cross ARO had come in the north door of the third car. Through the semi-translucence of her spirit, Alicia could see the horror in his eyes as he watched the watery being pummel his friend to death. "STOP IT!!!" he screamed.
Out the window, Alicia could still see the Seer standing in the clearing. She seemed to be speaking with someone, someone out of sight beyond the clearing's verge.
And outside in the rain, Ghost stood facing the big, long-haired samurai across the train coupling. Each man had his weapon trained on the other, fingers on triggers, mutually assuring one another's destruction if anything went south.
-
Leave the elf alone now Zanyiah. If either one attacks me, kill them. Once Zanyiah got off of the elf Alicia said out loud "Get your friend and get off the train. Be glad that you aren't the ones who tried to kill those kids." Alicia said, readying a spell in case the mercenaries didn't follow her orders.
-
The dredlocked man glared at Alicia but said no more as he quickly pressed his hands the length of the woman's body, gazing at her intently in what appeared to the The Sight. Then, satisfied he would do no further harm, hefted her into a fireman's carry. He wasn't that big a fellow, but then she was an elf, and they were always skinnier than they deserved to be.
He began to back towards the door he'd come in, eyes on both Alicia and her menacing spirit protector.
Up in the LAV, where is consciousness was, Dogmeat did a quick scan of the woods, using the bird's sensor suite to try piercing through the layers of rain, dust, and evergreen canopy. There were definitely heat signatures - at least one a troll - in two clusters at the edge of a clearing across from the car with the robot woman. He couldn't tell exactly how many individuals, however. And about forty meters to the north of the clearing, also in the woods, was a drone or small vehicle, with what looked like a still-hot weapon barrel.
-
Dogmeat wanted to shoot so much, but none of the targets seemed game changing or even obviously hostile. Being this disoriented reached out in frustration – there is not even a private way to deliver messages things are so bad it will probably do no further damage:
“This is Dogmeat: The LAV is in my hands now – Seer if you do not want to be captured – give me your coordinates so I can pick you up. Quickly before it is too late.” Send them privately to me – (he added an encrypted channel to the cutters com link.
He directed the LAV to the east, and locked the guns on the drone or small car - he shorted the distance, reaching almost a spitting range from that mechanical being prepared to fire with any sign of hostility. The sensors went wild trying to notice anything hostile. Both guns are both ready to fire at full auto.
Here goes nothing:
He also messaged his invisible drone to join the LAV to get a closer look to the east at maximum speed.
He "spoke " using the LAV sound systems in an artificial voice: “Cutter: got any idea where this seer is? This is really our last option to claim even a partial success in this gig. “
-
Alicia got on her comn. "Dogmeat, I can see the seer through the window, She is in the clearing next to the wreck. She doesn't want to be rescued though. She's trying to give herself up to prevent further violence." Alicia got ready to cast a lightning bolt out of the window as a distraction. She was glad that the truce had at least made sure that some people wouldn't die, although from a more cold viewpoint, the wounded elf would keep the other merc occupied.
-
"Not a clue, friend," Cutter says, trusting the internal sensors of the aircraft to pick up his reply, "But I think I can take over here now. These controls don't look much different than the ones in my dad's that he flew when I was a kid."
-
Dogmeat, redirected the LAV to that clearing, he also directed his invisible drone to that same spot.
In the meanwhile, he loaded the AR displays with his drone feeds in small boxes, trying to be aware of the entire situation.
I might leave soon, so be ready to take control - if we do get there - grab the girl he say to cutter.
He then text again to Alicia:
@alicia - we are coming in full speed - flying low really low to make the transfer. Please try to let her know of her new option - we might use some automatic fire - but we will not shoot if not necessary - we want to save life. I believe that if the seer is gone, the circus will be saved and all the bad guys will focus on the LAV. They did not come here for the circus they'll do what they can to stop us. You should hop in as well if you can. We'll need all the help we can get.
-
<<<@Dogmeat: You'll need to fly pretty low to the ground for us to grab anyone from the circus and most especially any mage-types. Mage-types aren't exactly well known for being able to jump very far.>>>
-
<<<@Cutter: I am doing my best - I think we'll actually need wheels to fly any lower. We will stop for a split second and take off again, this time as high as possible. The G force may be strong tough, so make sure you both have something to hold when we take off. Once we're high enough to avoid ground fire I'll jump ro my roto drone and distract the guards you'll take the lead. >>>
-
<<<@Dogmeat: Wilco. I'll make sure I'm strapped in and use some spare straps to try and toss out to the target.>>>
-
The dredlocked man exited the train car, awkwardly navigating his passenger through the door. Alicia saw him jump down to the ground - a real trick with another person laid out across his shoulders. He stumbled and fell to his knees on impact, but was soon back on his feet and traversing the short distance to the treeline.
Down at the south end of the train car, Ghost's opposite number started backing away slowly, never taking his sights off of Ghost's face. He linked up with the dredlocked man, covering the medic as they made for the woods.
They were almost to the trees when the captured T-bird screamed its way back onto the scene, decelerating deftly over the clearing, and then dropping rapidly an expertly into the tree-circled space. Alicia watched it plunge virtually to the ground before halting its descent right beside the little girl, who, from Alicia's viewpoint, showed little reaction.
From the cockpit, though, Cutter saw the little girl for the first time. She appeared to be no more than ten, and although dressed in a flimsy shift, seemed to mind neither the rain nor the incredible turbulence kicked up by the LAV's thrusters as they held the metal beast inches off the ground. Dead leaves, ash dust, and pine needles were swirling everywhere, but he could clearly see her face as she looked briefly at the open door, back at him, and shook her head calmly. With just a small movement of her hand, she waved him away. Her lips might have been moving, but there was no way anything could be heard over the roar of the turbofans.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
It wasn’t so much being tied to a chair that bothered Al so much. Hell, he’d slipped their ropes off his wrists in about ten seconds, and knew he could slough off the cords trussing his upper arms whenever he decided to stand up. Nor was it all the different ways they were talking about maiming-slash-killing him...once he woke up. He loved it when sadism hid its face behind decency. But then he’d planned no less painful an awakening for any of the clowns he captured alive, and still felt cheated they’d all been killed.
It did bother him a little that, along with his weapons, they’d taken his jacket. He didn’t like anyone else touching his Pa’s jacket. But he’d get that back too.
No, what really bothered him, as he sat there pretending to be out cold, was that they’d left his earpiece in. And he was a vegan and a Democrat if his colleagues out there didn’t sound like they were having one whale of a good time without him.
He’d have to get out of here soon, or risk missing all the fun.
-
Dogmeat was not surprised when the seer did not want to go. However, he was surprised that no one was shooting at the LAV. It may be too late, he thought – but he could not give up so fast.
He used the speakers on the LAV to say a few words.
Seer! The people that attacked the circus are after you and you alone. They do not care about the circus one bit. If you want to preserve both your circus and your freedom hop in the LAV – we will continue this fight in a secluded place without endangering innocent life. You will remain free – your circus will be protected. Your freedom is precious – do not give up so easily.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Alicia and Ghost watched their three erstwhile enemites fade into the trees to the south of the clearing.
Meanwhile, Cutter watched the girl shake her head as she moved her lips. She was shouting, but only for a moment before realizing how hopeless it was to try being heard over the scream of the T-bird's engines as they harmonized with the white noise of the wind and rain. The small girl did her best to give a reassuring nod, and even ventured a thumbs-up, though the gesture seemed awkward for her.
Then she walked into the trees, where the LAV's thermo sensors showed Dogmeat a troll and at least two humans waiting for her, well hunkered down behind tree trunks.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
松井 郎 Matsui Ichirō did not understand what was going on. It is all chaos. Wrecked vehicles. An LAV. A Zeppelin. Dust. Chaos. All chaos. It matters not. For there is purpose. And as long as the purpose remains all chaos is naught. He held the 13 Spades from the deck in his left hand. It is fitting that the English term for the tool they use to bury the dead is a spade, neh?
"I have come for you",shouts Ichirō at the three men just inside the tree line. "Not only are you cowards to kill a man from hiding- you now presume to harass little children. To call you Eta would be a disservice to eta. You who are lower than the lowest caste. Will you meet me in combat or will you hide behind your minions? Well?"
-
Dogmeat is silent. However, he jump into his invisible roto drone to track the group. Trying to find out where they are taking the seer.
<<@cutter - I am jumping out of the LAV - I can be back here in a second if you need to shoot anything or to quickly escape.>>
-
Assuming control of the T-bird, Cutter watched the little girl walk into the trees, joining a number of other shadowy forms.
They were still in sight, however, when they all stopped abruptly, and Cutter's low-light enhancements could just make out a large form that had emerged to challenge them.
Whirring along only a bit behind and above the group, Dogmeat's own light-amplification system revealed a clear video image of an large, horned metahuman with bright red skin facing off against those that now accompanied the Seer.
For his own part, Ichiro heard his sworn enemy say, "Umm, I guess I'll take hide behind minions for a thousand," and reach for a weapon, even as the accompanying troll moved to put himself between Ichiro and his target.
And in that very moment, one of the others accompanying the seer pulled something out of a pouch and, stepping up furtively behind the distracted little girl, placed it atop her head. She immediately cried out, her body twisting in confusion, but her attacker picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she was no more than the prepubescent child she pretended to be.
-
Alicia cursed as the T-bird blocked her line of sight to the group. She began to move to then end of the car to try and get a better view to cast spells.
-
Dogmeat:
She looked like a little girl, no more than 10. He could not remain indifferent to the sight. He'll never have children not in his line of work; his life will end in a cloud of violence – someone will get him eventually and he already accepted that... But the child was so naive, so pure he just had to save her.
He shot a single shot, The feathered man just collapsed as if someone suddenly pulled out the plug. He did not even bleed; perceptive people could probably see that the bullet hit the back of his neck disconnecting his brain from his body killing him instantly.
It was a good shot… one down three more to go – need to be quick and clean about it they need to die before they understand whats going on.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō heard his sworn enemy say, "Umm, I guess I'll take hide behind minions for a thousand," and reach for a weapon, even as the accompanying troll moved to put himself between Ichirō and his target.
A samurai must win the battle at hand before winning the war.
Ichirō steps towards the troll, places his base foot further away from his body, before dipping his upperbody down and back up in a "U" figuration. While he does this, his chest transfers from being over his back leg to being over his base leg. As Ichirō lifts his chest back upwards, he kicks up his back leg while launching off of his base foot. He connects with the Anahata, the Heart Chakra, that which the Gajin call the Celiac plexus. Energy from Ichirōs Qi is transferred from his body through the chakra point causing all of the troll's muscles to lock up in rigidity and he drops like a stone. The troll shall remain that way for quite some time.
-
The next obvious target was the troll - seeing the troll falls down like a rock... dogmeat thought:
I must luckier then I thought - two down two more to go.
He thanked the spirits for sending in aid so quickly. He wondered who that warrior that stood next to the troll was.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Watching his two companions drop, the remaining man dove toward the girl, tossing himself bodily atop both her and his fallen feather-festooned friend. He lay there for just a moment, and then the smallest movement from the girl - Ichiro could have sworn, there in the rainy dark, that it was a nod - and then the man rolled off of her and she rose to her knees. One hand she placed on the man Dogmeat had shot, and the other she held out in the direction of the sky, the clearing, the world in general.
A blinding light flashed, and she shrieked, "BEGONE!!!"
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Whether he somehow knew he was in the crosshairs or was going to move anyway, once the little girl started doing her thing, the black-jumpsuited man was on the go. Dogmeat's shot bit into the turf where he had just been.
He ran off into the woods, weaving between trees while watching Ichiro, whose thown card he skllfully ducked. Then he dove into a dense thicket of undergrowth.
In the meantime, the Seer's right hand joined her left on the chest of the guy with the feathers in his hair, continuing her magic.
-
Dogmeat targeted the man -finish him and free the spirit. he thought as he shot a single bullet with impressive skill. Sloppy... he actually doged that! dogmeat was surprised - he did not expect to miss - a skilled shot from an invisibile drone is usually an execution. The spirit magic seemed disturbing - but he could not even think about hurting her.
He liked that spirit - it is probobly bound by magic to behave like that.
It was a guessing game... guess who is hiding behind bush number one? This time he fired a short burst just to be sure - the old dog knew that hitting the invisibile is an impressive feat. No wonder that guy is the one giving orders... he is definately sneakier than the average bear. He respected him, and planed to give him proper burial if he happens to hit hard enough - But it was unlikely.
-
Alicia, unable to see what was going on, entered the astral, and traveled to the spot outside, where she saw the Free Spirit's aura, and watched the Spirit perform Magic. What are yout trying to do? she asked the spirit.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
As Dogmeat's drone sprayed lead at a diffuse heat signature in the underbrush, Alicia - indeed, the very essence of Alicia, untethered by fleshly hindrances - whisked its way to the scene.
The girl was there, but while her astral form was still that of a young female, her great power was apparent.
As was the great power of whatever object was now on her head. It shimmered with a power nearly as great as her own, but of a distinctly different flavor. And it sent crackles of energy like bonds of mystic barbed wire down the length of her small form.
When she responded to Alicia's query, all her former calm and poise were gone: "Please, I must save him!"
-
Alicia looked at the crow. She doubted it was part of the spirits actual Aura, and gathered up magical energy, and sent streaks of light towards the crown as she tried to dispel it.
-
Alicia's magical efforts may as well have hit a wall of FAB II-infused bricks. Null effect.
What was having a clear effect was the girl's efforts to heal the fallen man with the Amerind accessories - Alicia could see his aura strengthening by the second.
A dozen yards east, deeper into the woods, Dogmeat and Ichiro both saw their quarry break from his cover and flee. Obviously hurt, it would be easy for the oni to catch him.
-
Dogmeat thought: "So I did hit the invisible... what a mess so many shots". He targeted him again, single shot
-
Even as Dogmeat lined up his shot and commanded the rest of his drone pack to do the same, Cutter eased the nose of the T-bird up for a better view of the fleeing target and thumbed the red button on the right side of the steering column. A stream of lead streamed toward the wounded man, the path of hte bullets illuminated by bright tracers.
The man threw himself to the ground in desperation, only to be shot repeatedly in the head and torso by a succession of rotodrones.
And while Dogmeat was relishing the sight through his primary sensors, movement in one of his secondary displays caught his eye, and he saw two unidentified rotodrones diving down from the sky, spitting destruction on "him" as they came.
Closing in on the scene in time to see the death of his sworn enemy, Ichiro felt a series of punches land on his armor. The force of the blows from his invisible assailant threw him to the ground, and a split second later as he felt wet warmth spread over his skin beneath the venlar, and struggled to pull breath into painfully tightening lungs, he realized been shot. Playing back the last few instants of near falal time, he realized he'd seen a muzzle flash a dozen yards to his right.
Meanwhile, Alicia's ghostly form was watching the Seer's healing mana pour into the fallen Amerind. The dweomer was very strong, and the man was clearly recovering from terrible wounds in the space of a few heartbeats. And now, though his eyes were closed, his lips were moving rapidly, and she saw his own mana gathering force.
As much as that sent warning bells off in her mind, however, something else was more disturbing. The little girl that was the seer was not so little any more. Though the artifact on her head was apparently binding her to her physical state, it apparently did not limit the form that state could take. She was growing, and changing, and while the transformation was only now starting, it was clear it was not going to be pleasant.
-
<<To Team: I think we may need to withdraw from this Charlie Foxtrot, People. If you'll get to a rendezvous point, I'll swoop down to pick you guys up.>>
-
<< Cutter - We got a man down - how about a rescue operation? - we can do it the same way as if we intended to pull out the seer. land the bird, get the guy and get out - I can help by jumping in once you leave the T-Bird - just to make sure we make us as fast as possible. >>
-
<<Take off the crown or whatever that the seer is wearing. It's the only thing keeping her under their control. Take it off, and this fight should be ah heck of a lot easier.>>
-
Dogmeat twisted his aluminum torso deftly away from the twin streams of incoming fire and resisted the temptation to shoot back. Instead, he directed himself and his pack toward what he considered a higher-priority target - the fallen Amerind-type whose heat signature was, unbelievably, getting stronger as the little girl ministered to him. Splashes of brighter color showed that all shots hit their marks, and he couldn't help but also notice that it was no longer a little girl kneeling next to his enemy, but a rapidly growing nightmare beast bristling with fangs and angry teeth.
Moreover,, even with the main gun from the T-bird pausing, the drones on both sides weren't the only ones shooting. There was heavy fire from multiple sources coming from the south, and it all seemed to be directed at the misshapen monster growing before their eyes - and still wearing the magical crown.
-
Alicia gulped quietly in the Astral. This was probably the most stupid thing she had ever tried, but it needed to be done. Moving towards the seer, she grabbed the crown and tried to lift it off.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō almost passed out from the pain. The only thing that kept him awake was sure willpower. Haste shall be my undoing. I should have seen that coward waiting in ambush. Slowly Ichirō crawled inch by painful inch toward the nearest tree to get some cover between himself and the gunfire that had knocked him down.
-
Dogmeat directed his drones to provide cover fire to the wounded man.
He also messaged cutter: <get over here we got a man down> including an exact coordinate.
-
Cutter swoops low to the ground, trusting the backwash from the vehicle's engines to 'clear' hostiles. <<@Team: Don't know how long I can stay this low, so anyone wanting aboard get up here now!>>
-
<< dogmeat[cutter] - you may need to grab him - I can pilot while you are out, he barely seems to be able to crawl>>
-
As hideous as the spirit now appeared, and as distressed as it obviously was, when it saw Alicia approach and sensed her intention, it quieted some and inclined its head.
Small arms fire was striking the spirit, and many of the misses were whizzing through Alicia's incorporeal form, but both were oblivious, completely unharmed, as Alicia reached gingerly for the crown. At its touch she could feel the power of it like a thousand pinprick shocks on her fingertips, but she tightened her grip and pulled.
Nothing. It might as well have been a part of the Seer-beast's skull.
Above them, Dogmeat's drones were laying down suppression on the firing positions to their south, while simultaneously dodging attacks from the hostile pair of rotodrones above them.
And then Dogmeat realized he and his pack were the only ones still firing. All at once the enemy fire had stopped. No more muzzle flashes to the south, and the guns on the other two drones - both still on station close above - had also become still.
The rain continued to pour down through the dark, and all sound remained overshadowed by the roaring whine of the LAV's engines.
-
Why can i not remove this Crown? Do you know why? Alicia asked the Free Spirit.
-
The creature wailed. It was an eery, soul-rending sound, reeking of despair.
As it spoke, images appeared in Alicia's mind, first of a human male dressed all in black, whispering quickly in the little girl's ear as he held her on the ground, and then of the dead man at her feet with the feathered headdress.
The man told me that only the one that placed it upon me could take it off. I was trying to save him, but now….
And the keening wail resumed.
-
Snake-like eyes widened in shock at the spirits words. There must be some other way to take it off. What exactly is it doing to you? Do you think that destroying the physical crown would help?
-
Why did they all stop?... so confusing, dogmeat started to question his sanity - what good is it to blow up stuff that do not fight back... could it all be a bad dream...? Is he at home swimming in nuyen, retired... perheaps starting a family ?
Nah... it will never happen - he thought as he scanned again the hideous spirit - this is what happens to naive people, she deserved it with all her super human intellect she couldn't even look out for herself. How can spirits be so weak and yet so strong? There is no place for weaklings in this world. He thought - maybe this new form is a positive thing- this time she will protect herself.
She should definitely keep that crown.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō makes it the tree.
I should be dead. The Okubyōmono should have easily finished me off. Perhaps, one of these others have finished him off. Or perhaps, most likely, he has run off. Why is that little girl wailing? It sounds almost inhuman.
Ichirō tries to sit up next to the tree to be able to see his surroundings better. The pain almost makes him pass out. Between the rain and the dust stirred up by the LAV, all seems but confusion to him.
-
With the wind and leaves the hovering T-bird was kicking up, Alicia knew that meat ears would never be able to hear the spirit's words, but all that was nothing in the astral, where the spirit's duality brought its message to her with the clarity of cut diamonds.
Though it's body retained its nightmarish shape, as it communicated with her, its face reverted to that of the little girl: It binds me, holds me, traps me in this shell of viscera and cartilage. Free me of this crown or I shall be doomed to waste away my years on this stunted plane.
The childlike face shimmered with energy from the crown and from the spirit's own tortured aura. But how? She looked down at the fallen man. Green tears ran down her porcelain cheeks. I'm sorry. I know only what the man told me.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
As his would-be captors plotted his destruction in ever more creative ways, Al followed the action as best he could through his earpiece. Comms were sporadic at best, and he definitely felt like he was listening to an action trid without the picture. He gathered that Cutter had somehow captured the T-bird. Ramming the RV with his bike had been a badass play, but damn if the kid hadn’t somehow topped it. Al knew he had to get out of this mess somehow, if only to hear the story.
And then someone named Dogmeat had apparently joined their side, along with some drones and injuns. Al was not one hundred percent certain how that worked. There’d been some negotiations, and then this Seer girl they were supposed to protect had tried to give herself up, and they were trying to get her back, and that was all he could follow.
He was trying to decide what to do, but at the same time enjoying just having a little break, when one of the surrounding circus voices rang out close to his ear. “Hey, I don’t think this faker is really out!”
Al kept his eyes shut - die with the lie, right? Well, no, he thought, as someone put a blade to his throat and threatened to cut it if he didn’t wake up. Opening his eyes, he saw a colorful array of athletic performer types, shaggy roadies, and an assortment of circus freaks - which was a label that said something in the Sixth World. They were all in their regular clothes, which stole something from their mystique. And they all looked fairly angry.
“There, he’s awake. Can we kill him now?”
“Well, I can see no reason not to.”
“So do we go with the flaying or the boiling?”
“Boiling won the vote!”
“But that was before the triplets showed up, so now we have to vote again.”
"Wait, why not flay, then boil? Everyone's happy, right?"
Interesting as it was, Al was dying for a smoke.
“Lissen, y’all,” he began in a small voice that nonetheless brought their argument to a halt. “Long as we got a few minutes while ya figure it out, reckon a feller could git a last cigarette?”
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
A bearded ork roustabout in a sleeveless Darwin’s Bastards T-shirt shrugged and put a cigarette between Al’s lips. But his matches had apparently gotten wet in the rain, and he couldn’t strike a light.
“Here, amigo, let ol’ Al do that fer ya.” His burn-scarred hands snatched the matches from the ork and he quickly coaxed some fire out of one. Closed his eyes, Inhaled. Breathing easier he looked around and saw eyes wide as saucers. Then he glanced down at the ropes now lying in a heap at his feet. Dammit, he’d forgotten he was pretending to still be tied up.
He was about to take advantage of their momentary surprise to seize the initiative and try telling his side of the story, when that damnable Cockney voice rang out again. “‘Ee’s loose, ‘ave at ‘im!” and a dozen bodies bowled him over in the chair. One pulled a knife and said, “Enough messing around here.”
Out of cards to play, Al called on his voodoo protectors for aid - and it worked! (The Tattoo Witch would be so pissed off!) A familiar French-accented voice cried out, “What is going on here?”
“This guy killed the Crawford kids, so we’re killing him!”
“Carved their eyes out, ‘ee did.”
“But this is nonsense. The boys are fine. They just pulled up with the Hawkins group. I saw them myself.” It took a minute, but the mustachioed man managed to persuade the mob that Al was indeed one their own hired guns.
As Al quickly retrieved his gear and headed for the door, he said, “I thank ye kindly, Marc the Magnificent.”
“Do not thank me, sir, you are a rogue and a Philistine. The battle without apparently rages on, and my sole purpose in securing your release is so that you can go out and die in our defense.”
So Al went out the door and jumped down, Docs splashing simultaneously into the gray ash mud.
The shooting had stopped, but there was no mistaking the running lights on the big T-bird - the same one he’d played chicken with just a few minutes earlier - hovering near a clearing not fifty yards to his south and east.
Shotgun slung, rifle in his right hand and the ork’s cigarette in his left, he set out through the rain in that direction.
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
When he got to the clearing, all that was there was the T-bird, not too far off the ground. Noisy as all hell.
But just a bit deeper into the trees there was something else. He walked toward it. There wasn’t much light, but it was enough for his fancy new eyes to let him see just fine, though he wished it wasn’t.
Damndest creature he’d ever laid eyes on was there, and he’d seen some beauts. Big like a truck, and just sitting there atop some injun’s corpse, blubbering away. It seemed to be talking to someone, but he couldn’t see anyone else around.
He went closer, close enough he could smell the thing, but it took no notice of him. Had on some sort of crown, tiny on its giant misshapen head.
Overhead, there was a swirling congregation of rotodrones. He hoped they all belonged to this Dogmeat character, and then he remembered he was supposed to have IDed himself so as not to get shot.
He paused and smoked for a moment.
<<Dogmeat, that yer handle? It’s Al Guthrie here. I think we’s all of a side on this thing, so tell yer toys not ta shoot. Cutter, boy, you still in that bird? And can someone tell me where the Seer is, where the bad guys have got to, and just what the HELL this ever-lovin’ monstrosity is?”>>
-
Calm down. We only have his word that he is the only way to take it off. No matter what happens, we will find a way to fix this, you have my word. Now, is there absolutely any way of removing it that you can think of? Alicia said into the astral. She could only hope that things were going better in the physical world than in the meta world.
-
Bringing the T-Bird in for a 'true' landing, Cutter transmits <<@Team: Anyone wanting a lift, get here ASAFP. This sitch really turned into a Charlie Foxtrot, so we need to just get back to the main caravan and circle the wagons until we can get a good mechanic in to fix it up.>>
-
<<Al Guthrie I added you to the no kill list but monstrosity - seriously?... this is our little Seer girl - now imagine how trolls first felt when they appeared.
She is unique - one of a kind - and her exterior now reflect it as well. I actually like her better this way - make her more well 'human' nobody should be perfect>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al flashed a thumbs up toward the cockpit of the landing vectored-thrust vehicle and then shouted into his commlink over the roar of the engines: <<Much obliged, Dogmeat. Like yer name, by the way. Sorry 'bout any inter-species insensitivity, but sheee-it, that's the Seer we's guardin'? Seems awfully big. What car was it on? And has anyone got a twenny on the opposition? Them's all yore birds up there, right?>>
-
<< My birds are next to the Seer - must be some other birds... my call sign is a tribute to a famous dog of pre-historic game scene... even before the matrix. My ancestors were deeply influenced by that dog.
Yeap she is big so there is more to guard... she decided to wear some sort of artifact and now she cannot take it off... silly spirit - I really thought spirits were a lot smarter than that... Nevermind we'll just never understand the immortals they have .... a different perspective.
Here are coordinates along with some bird eye view form one of my drones. Our job description do not refer to the visual out look of the seer, so as far as I am concerned no problem - unless you really want to help her take that thing off - but I am here to protect a special cargo. It is difficult enough she brings her captives from the dead - you just have to continue shooting them so they stay dead.
I am telling you, this spirit girl has some Stockholm syndrome. Even after her captives are dead, she is crying big green tears - there is still a little girl inside. If I was big enough I'd give her a hug.
And about the opposition- fearing of shooting the wrong people I am now on a self defense mode - I arrvied late and well I have no idea whats going on... I shoot the people that took the Seer they seem to be dead now.
There are more hostiles around but they seem to be peaceful so for the meantime my drones are circling the Seer... every man has a death moment, I see no need to rush around killing people - we will all die eventually.
we are all in the same business after all - even the opposition. If they let us keep the seer and do not attack the circus i am for happy not to shoot them.
I already killed two people today - this is two too many. Some of them might have been old friends or colleagues who knows can't see anything right in this weather.
>>
He then send another message
<< cutter ? can you pick up my meat body ? I'll feel safer with you around then randomly placed in the middle of all this mess. I am sending the car toward the LAV just wait a bit.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al walked around the wailing creature, studying it as the mysterious drone-jockey spoke into his ear. The thing looked like a giant insect wrapped up mummy-style, each of six pale green appendages ending in three clawed fingers. A bit spooky, but also appeared too awkward to move quick.
Once he'd had a good look, and on hearing that some of the obviously armed drones overhead were hostile, and that there were other bad guys about as well, he faded back into a the shadowy space between three closely placed trees.
<<Well, kemo sabe, if you got no idear what's goin' on, then that makes the pair of us. So what about this Seer bein' inside that thing? That there crown turn her into it? Peter, James, an' John, that's a pickle, shore enough.>>
He stubbed out his cigarette, then crept to a different hide, still in sight of the T-bird and the Seer-beast.
<<So whatcha reckon? Cutter's made his vote purty clear, but I done took cred to look after this here... cargo, so can't hardly turn muh back.>>
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō was thinking of the endless array of symbols with which the spirits speaks to us of the eternal life. But the universe is even more talkative and it speaks not only of the ultimate things (which it does always in an obscure fashion) but also of closer things, and then it speaks quite clearly. At the moment it yelled pain and the need to stand up or die in an ignoble fashion.
So Ichirō grabbed onto the tree for support and stood up. The pain almost made him drop but he took in a deep breath to steady himself. There was no sign of his enemy. Not that he was in much shape to do any fighting at the moment.
The pilot in that craft also shot at my enemies.Perhaps they can be an ally of convenience and provide medical care. It cannot hurt to inquire. And hopefully I can repay any debt incurred as fast as humanly possible.
Ichirō walks towards the waiting T-Bird and in English yells into it, "Is there a medic or medkit on board?"
-
[Saturday September 14th, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al watched the big bright red figure approach the LAV and heard his question. There was a monster, and there were plenty of drones around, but this was the first actual meta he had spotted on the scene since stumbling into this chaos.
And he had no idea who the person was.
The T-bird's door was open - couldn't risk losing the tactical advantage Cutter had somehow won for them…<<Anyone know horn-head here?>> he broadcast to the team, and then moved to intercept without waiting for an answer.
Trying to keep at least a little vegetation between himself and the drones overhead, he made himself - and his leveled rifle - visible to the newcomer. "Whoa, there, baby," he shouted loud enough to be heard over the idling engines, "reckon that there ride belongs to a co-worker o' mine. So afore makin' yerself at home there, ya mind tellin' ol' Al who in blazes you are?"
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Matsui Ichirō looked down on the dwarf. At least here is a man who confronts you face to face. Not like that eta who ran into the woods. Hopefully, he shall prove more helpful than difficult.
"You may call me, Fujikami Hiedeki. But in this country that puts the self before the family, you would say Hiedeki Fujikami. I believe we have enemies in common. Who do I have the honor of addressing? And is there any medical aid available?"
-
[Friday September 13, 2075, Kale's Garage, Puyallup, Seattle]
Kale wiped the sweat off his brow, his truck was working fine but he liked to clean the parts every once in a while to make sure it's in good order. Still getting used to not wiping his forehead with his right arm, thr metal tended to cut his forehead.
It was 11 at night, Kale should be asleep but it was hard with the job the next day. He hated it too, first paying job he gets offered by somebody other than Roscoe and he had to turn it down. If Roscoe hadn't saved his life, Kale would have said slot it. But no, Roscoe needed a boat, and Kale was the only guy he knew with a boat. It was an easy job anyway, some guy needed to be picked up at Seattle harbour, dropped off at a boat, and that was it. He'd find his own way back. It seemed strange to Kale, but he wasn't one to question. He knew better than that. Plus he should be back in town by 9 or a little after, he couldn't take the job with the circus but he might have time to run over to Tarislar see if he could see something.
Kale smiled and put the piece back where it belonged in his truck. Maybe he'd look at his boat one more yime, than hit the sack.
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
With the sound of the LAVs engines rendered to a muted whine the wind once more dominates your senses as it crashes through the pines around you. The silence from the foe is ominous…
Then one of the occasionally seen rota drones buzzing the clearing accelerates down towards you, it’s weapon clearly pointing away in a gesture of submission. A harsh voice is emitted from a speaker mounted somewhere on the drone's airframe
“Alright fraggers. We want to trade. That way we all get something out of this fucked up afternoon. You willing to talk…or shall we just go back to blowing the shit out of each other?”
-
Alica made a calming motion again towards the seer. "Wait a while please. I need to find out what is going on in the physical world." Leaving the Astral, Alicia returned to the real world, and immediatly opened up her comn.
>>To: All
>> I just finished talking to the seer throught the astral. The extraction team has stuck some soprt of crown artifact onto her that's doing something to her, and we killed the only person who can take it off, supposedly. What's been ging on here?
She waited for a reply. She didn't want to abandon the seer, but to be fair, the seer had been a little to passive, and had really brought this down upon herself in a way, but she didn't think the spirit should be forced to pay for it with imprisonment.
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al was just opening his mouth to reply to the big oni when one of the swirling mess of drones came down and offered some sort of parlay. So he was just about to reply to that when his earbud rang to life again. He was starting to feel busier than a one-legged man at a kicking contest.
The good news was it was the welcome voice of Ms. Reeves - at last someone he was pretty sure he could trust, and who seemed a have a clear idea of what had happened to the Seer.
The drone's offer to talk made him momentarily less worried about getting shot. He held up a single finger in the air, beckoning the machine to wait, then walked toward the red-skinned meta standing outside the T-bird's hatch. As he walked, we spoke: <<Well, Ms. Reeves, seems they's backed off fer the nonce an' wants ta talk about tradin' somethin'. They got anything we want?>>
Closer now to the stranger, he looked him up and down carefully. "Well, konichiwa ta you too, Mr. Hidekami. That was a most gentlemanly speech. You's one o' them Nipponese-style tuskers, ain't ya? Ol' Al's never seen one inna flesh afore, an' the sight does make an impression.. Reckon I'll further allow as you do look to have been shot up purty good, an' I'd sincerely like ta help ya. But seein' as how I don't know ya from Adam, I can't let ya board the bird jist yet..>>
-
>>A way to get the the crown of the seer for sure. She may be a pacifist and naieve, but if that crown is any indication, nothing would deserve what they are more than likely to do to her. What that crown did is just like if something took your body and decided to turn you into an eleven story high monster to see what would happen. There team may be willing to back off, they can't take many more casualties liek they have been.
Alicia sent the message, and closed her eyes. All she had planned on doing was hopping a ride on the train a ways to the next city, and now she was working to prevent the kindnapping of a free spirit by a team of what was most likely corpmen. Life always loved surprising her.
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
<<Alrighty, then, roger an' roger. I'll have a chat with 'em. An' if you got the witch sight, try keepin' an eye on 'em less'n they try somethin'. They is kid-killers, after all, or woulda been if it weren't fer Cutter..>>
Keeping half an eye on the oni, Al called to the emissary drone: "Well, reckon we need that there dingus off'n the Seer's pretty insect head. Tell ya what - you do that, then we git the Seer, an' you git ta live even after killin' those pore kids' parents."
-
Alicia sent a confirmation over the comn, and immediatly went into the astral. Al's comments had reminded her of the innocnet lives that had been taken theat night. The only reason these murderers would live would be because they wouldn't want further bloodshed . She quickly went to the seer first. "Do not worry, we are doing our best to get the crown off. Please stay come for a while longer. I know I cannot imagine what is hapening to you, but we are trying to help." Then she flshed to the are around them to check them, and then left the astral and checked her spell to see what it could pick up.
-
Dogmeat sent Al a message: <<Let him board pal, he disabled their best fighter with a single strike - some ninja magic i think... About negotiation - I do not mind doing it - but being self observant i must say that most fella's think that I am marginally insane. Just saying though, mate... I know they are wrong.
But I do not mind killing a couple more of them to improve our position in the negotiation - there leader seems to be dead, I bet it scored us some point. The LAV gave us a couple more. You see... the only diplomacy I know how to do require some sort of violence. Is that the kind of negotiation you want? >>
Dogmeat locks his drones on the drone that previously fired on them and send a message:
<<Okay guys, this is how we do negotiation - there will be exactly a single offer from each side.
If I find your offer unreasonable or insulting we are back to lead diet - It is better if each offer is summarized to a single sentence. If it is too long, too obscure or too complex we are also back to lead diet. >>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al listened to Dogmeat's broadcast with bemusement and a dash of concern. <<Hey there, amigo, long as yer tossin' round ultimatums about lead diets, ya might like ta consider that the only targets left out here fer either side ta shoot at is all on our side, startin' with yours truly. So less'n ya got someone else lined up ta shoot at….>>
The bright side was that the drone-guy seemed to be taking over the negotiating part, which was one less thing he had to do. He turned to the Japanork: "Well, a feller I ain't never laid eyes on says yer okay, so what the hell, in ya go I reckon. Can't say what sorta meds is in there, but ol' Al be happy ta patch ya up once we's wound this up an' back at the train. Provided o' course yer kind ain't got three hearts or two stomachs or anything like that."
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō wasn't sure what to make of the dwarf. Having grown up in an arcology, he wasn't used to this variant English. Nevertheless, it appears he had been given permission to board and so he does. He quickly scans the interior looking for a medkit.
-
Hearing someone board the vehicle, Cutter calls back, "I don't know what's back there that's useful since I didn't have a chance look look while I was commandeering this bird from the butt-wipes that were attacking."
With that he transmits to the team, <<Everyone aboard that's getting on? 'Bout to lift off if so.>>
-
<<Okay guys, this is how we do negotiation - there will be exactly a single offer from each side.
If I find your offer unreasonable or insulting we are back to lead diet - It is better if each offer is summarized to a single sentence. If it is too long, too obscure or too complex we are also back to lead diet. >>
You can just about hear the mechanical replication of the chuckle over the rising wind
"Fair enough fragger, simple deal. We take the crown off and walk away, nobody follows us...you get your, well whatever that thing is that was a little girlie, back and no more grenades on your hoop...everyone gets something...deal?"
-
<<to:Al
<< there deal seems fair. But be ready to blow them to shreds if they start trying anything funny. I am personally already sick of these ********.
Aria sighed in relief. Seems that there may not be anymore problems tonight after all.
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
<<Reckon that's it fer now, Cutter. Yore jist a target sittin' there like that, git yerself some sky.>> As he spoke to the balls-out sammy, Al was retreating out of the wash of the big machine's running lights and making for the clump of trees he'd used before. It was hard to take cover when you didn't know what direction the bad guys would be shooting from, but the placement of these three trees meant he'd have at least a little coverage from any direction. Certain they had eyes on him anyway, he lit up a Lucky.
<<Copy that, Ms. Reeves.>> he answered the helpful passenger.
"Alrighty then, ya got yerselves a deal. Details seem simple enough - ya come take the dingus off 'er, an' we's done."
-
>>To: Al
>>Stay safe. I'll be heading my way to the meadow now.
Alicia got out of the train car and started on foot to the clearing, staying low to the ground and preparing for anything.
-
<< I think we could have gotten way more - by blowing some extra stuff but I am fine with this solution - just make sure they don't try anything sneaky.
I have no special interest in magical artifacts anyhow. If Alicia is fine with it being a real mage that talks to spirits and all dogmeat also agrees. >>
<< Al - if they wanted to shot they would have done so already - there leader is dead they just want to make some money out of escaping. Works for us also because we already grabbed a lot of loot out of this run. No need to be too greedy. They had both the crown and the Seer until just a few seconds ago. >>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
<<Reckon that's it fer now, Cutter. Yore jist a target sittin' there like that, git yerself some sky.>> As he spoke to the balls-out sammy, Al was retreating out of the wash of the big machine's running lights and making for the clump of trees he'd used before. It was hard to take cover when you didn't know what direction the bad guys would be shooting from, but the placement of these three trees meant he'd have at least a little coverage from any direction. Certain they had eyes on him anyway, he lit up a Lucky.
<<Roger that.>> Cutter transmits, and with that he pulls back on the stick edging the craft back to airborne status.
-
<< Al - if they wanted to shot they would have done so already - there leader is dead they just want to make some money out of escaping.>>
<<Pleased ta see yer so confident 'bout muh safety, Dog-amigo. But every other time ol' Al's found hisself faced with a big green monster wearin' a crown, there was more goin' on than met the eye. So you'll pardon me if'n I don't bet the farm on yer powers o' mind-readin' an' jist keep muh wits about me till this here scene is good an' gone ta bed."
-
<<
Well Al... Dogmeat is older than the average runner, you also seem old for a runner
- in a way we both are extremely lucky already. Let's hope lady luck will stays with us another day.
>>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
For those still around to hear the drone announces in audio and via AR "Hold your fire, one of us is coming out"
A figure darts from the tree line, arms spread wide to show clear hands but making no effort to hide the Ares assault rifle strapped to her back. Her black suit is caked in grey ash and reveals very little heat signature, presumably why these runners are so hard to spot in cover. She moves with the fierce grace of a predator, a gillette for certain...
She approaches the beast in the centre of the clearing and says "Our principal said to tell you this is a warning! Go home to Brittany and stop meddling" and then with a quick whisper lifts off the crown as easy as you please...
She bolts back towards cover like a startled dear...
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō finds what he is looking for; a red carrybag with a white cross on it. He opens it up, turns on the autosoft included with the integrated medical computer, and lets it go to work. It sterilizes and closes the wound.
While still not at a hundred percent, Ichirō is now confident he will not bleed to death.
Modern medicine is a marvel. Let us not be too confident in it lest we begin to think of ourselves as immortal.
Ichirō addresses the man in the cockpit: "I shall repay the debt incurred for the use of your medkit as soon as possible."
-
Dogmeat looks at the figure and moans... I wish I was that agile he thinks, as he puts his rottor drones in defensive formation. scouting the proximity of the seer. His flying eye keeps close contact on the other rottor drones.
Dogmeat transmit the following message on the matrix:
Now lets pretend its a hide seek game... The dog counts 5 minutes and you disappear. You got your artifact - we got seer so we both can pay our bills for some extra time. If one of the dogs sees you in the circus afterwards we assume that you picked the second option. That is a shame because too many are killed in the same place already.
The dog thinks for himself -
who carries an assault rifle on the back - this is so sloopy - either you hold it in your hands ready to shoot - or you are just a poser. Besides everyone knows that the best place for an assault rifle is on a rotor drone.
He then transmit a message
<< Hey wounded guy... what are you planning to do now... I hope you feel better. How do you feel about making some extra money? with all the runners we lost I am sure we can have you hired in no time for some circus protection. You seem to have the ninja moves. >>
A third message << People... anyone is brave enough to restrain the troll ? I do not think he is dead and he will be scary when he wakes up - also he might provide us information about who where these guys we just killed... You know how it is - you kill someone and then their friends kill one of your friends - and so on - until you end like the dog old, crazy and lonely. Lets at least know who is going after us. >>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
"The troll is not unconscious. i merely paralyzed him by exerting Qi to the appropriate pressure point. He'll be able to start moving in about an hour but will not be fully coordinated for several hours after that. There are some question I too wish to pose to him. As to the offer of employment, it would seem I am out of leads for the moment unless the troll knows anything- so, yes, I would be interested."
The troll was not on the hit team, or if he was, I did not see him. However he was working for the leader of the hit team so perhaps he knows some of their names. And perhaps some of them are out their right now. If I stay with this group, they may strike again and I'll have another opportunity for vengeance.
-
Looking back into the main compartment briefly, Cutter calls out with a smirk, "Use what you like. This baby is mine now since I commandeered her, but she once belonged to the enemy, so you're using their supplies."
With that, he transmits to the team <<All right people. Do we let them go or should I light that tree line up with automatic fire?>>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Ruins of Graham, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al knew he should be watching for any sign of a double-cross, but that was so boring. Instead, one eye was looking around for the amusing prospect of a paralyzed troll, while the other was watching for any sign of the Seer returning to a more manageable size.
He considered Cutter's query, but really there was nothing to think about. <<Temptin' as that there proposition sounds, kemo sabe, we let 'em go. I done told the danged child-killers it was a deal, so we shoot 'em now an' next time we's in a pickle like this, ol' Al's word'll be 'bout as useful as a pogo stick in quicksand.>>
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Outside the Mechanicals Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Well, this eventful trip is nearly at an end, thank the gods and civilisation is hoving into view on either side of the now semi-servicable road. With the crown removed from the seer she had returned to her form of the little girl, allbeit considerably more pensive than before…she’d withdrawn to her quarters and the dulcet tones of ‘Ole Meg can dimly be heard through the door berating her for her stupidity…
Someone had come up with some laes and apprantly the children that had borne the brunt of the clowns’ malice would no longer remember the events of today. They would know their parents were dead but at least they would be spared the haunting memories…
About an hour after the opposing runners had disappeared with their tails tucked between their legs, either through Torrent’s networking magic or Oblique’s connections, your rescuers had arrived trundling a Big Rig down the 161. The steampunking motifs were familiar to some, if just by reputation, and the Mechanicals (and one or two hired helpers), had set about fixing the land trains with quiet determination and minimal banter with the circus folks. When pressed one of them had said there was a party going on back home and they were keen to get back to it. They’d jacked up the front of the train and with the assistance of the circus mechanics, and anyone foolish enough to be standing around gawping, had replaced the damaged baloon wheels and drive shafts in short order.
You’d all breathed a little easier, figuratively and physically, as you’d passed 128 Street East and out of the Barrens proper. Ahead, the sprawling Tribal zone of the Mechanicals invited you in with the sounds of live junk yard music and the tantilising smells of real food cooking. Oblique had done some sort of deal to stay with the Tribe overnight and although he made it clear that he expected you lot to keep an eye on the convoy he also wanted you to have the opportunity to join the party and let your hair down a little…this job is nearly done…
-
[Saturday September 14, 2075; Mechanicals Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Once they'd secured the Seer, Al had sought out Ms. Reeves to meet her in person. Once he'd thanked her for her help, he'd found some beers and sat down with Cutter to congratulate him on the balls-swinging-free-and-proud play with the RV, only to hear that story topped by what had happened with the T-bird. One bad ass kid. He'd found the new guy, Dogmeat, patching up the oni, who went by Ichiro. They were a couple of odd ones, but he hadn't had time to talk much before his hippie friends showed up. Naturally he went out and helped get things sorted, and once they were wheels up he resumed driving the lead tractor.
Once they reached the commune - an unexpected bonus - he gave an overjoyed Spike a man-hug then headed up to his room. Greeted the snakes - they were less thrilled to see him - and took the opportunity to shed the blood-drenched clothes in favor of his 501s and other yellowed T-shirt. Washed the caked-on gore off his Pa's jacket as best he could, and wasted no time getting back outside. He was still on the job…and there was free beer to be had.
Once he was situated on a low lawn chair next to his Gaz and in easy sight of the gathered throng, he started in on an appropriated six-pack and looked around for any of his teammates that might want to get better acquainted, or maybe just need showing around.
-
Dogmeat was happy to finally give faces to the people he talked with during the combat.
He felt like he was needed, so... working with other people may not be that bad. After he made his acquiescence
He tried to talk to the Seer girl, he wasn't good with words he didn't say much besides ‘hi’ but he wanted to see her in his own eyes. After some awkward silence he added - I was the one riding that invisible drone. I hope my tortured aura do not offend you. Most awakened dudes do not like me because of my augmentations. Anyway, I feel so bad killing for you I couldn't let them take you... I'll never disturb you again
He then went to blow up some steam, I need a beer he thought as he tried to find a drinking buddy... Cutter here you are - I think you owe me a drink! I am Dogmeat by the way the mage/rigger/hacker crazy person...I am so glad you are alive by the way... a true bad-ass.
***
couple of hours later completely drunk in his cart he started crying talking to an invisible entity - I am so sorry I am killing again. Humans are part of nature I know that I know but there was no choice... they were going to take her... a sudden silence Ahaha Eagle one I know why you are tormenting me - you are jealous! that is - of that silly Seer girl ... A terrible pain followed this remark so painful to be alive.
The rest of the night was terrible, horrible nightmares Dogmeat woke up quite a few times screaming from madness. He felt like he was losing the last shred of sanity.
So much pain, he felt like every single bullet that fired today priced him, any terrified scream was his own - as if the emotions of 100’s people tried to find room inside him and there was no room he screamed his lungs out trying to make room for more pain, lose this emotion it only made the pain bearable.
At the morning Dogmeat felt more powerful- every time I advance in magic I lose a little piece of what's keeping me sane. There is not much left he thought. More powerful but more insane... this is my destiny.
If being magical is so terrible for me - why can’t mages understand why I stuck chrome in there?
Why I refuse to look into the astral. I barely qualify as a reasonable person now... I can barely imagine how mad I would have been should my magic be at full potential.
-
Alicia spent the time after talking to the seer, and making sure she understood something. "I don't care how you think you should handle your problems or how you made those people angry, but if you continue making enemies like this your going to end up dead." After finally meeting with Al, she thanked him for his help, and spent the rest of the day sleeping. It had been a long night, and there was a hell of a chance that soemthing would wake her up again.
-
Cutter was with a trio of these 'Mechanicals' discussing the possibility of getting the LAV--which he'd come to call 'Aly'--cleared of ownership marks and reincorporated as his property when Dogmeat showed up. He nodded to the other runner, lifting up his beer bottle, and replied to him with a grin, "Hey, if you're gonna cross thin ice, you might as well do it with a dance."
-
[Saturday September 15, 2075; Outside Mechanical Camp, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō had spent the night talking to the troll. He claimed to be nothing more than a hired mercenary and had no knowledge of the assassin team that Ichirō was looking for. Unfortunately, Ichirō believed him. Which left him with no clues at the moment, since the man he came out here to challenge was dead at the hands of the LAV pilot, Dogmeat.
Ichirō went looking for the dwarf, Al, to see about the release of the troll.
-
Dogmeat spotted Ichirō, as he was going through the camp - having seen him before through the eyes of the drone.
He waved at him and said: Hey Ninja man - really amazing how you subdoed that troll dude. I don't know if you've seen me but I was riding an invisible drone in the scene. Killed a few of them - until they some how figured out what was going on...
surprise is a powerful friend but it does not last for long.
Are you working with us now? I'd definitely like to work with you. Dogmeat by the way - you might have heard my chatter in the coms also.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
The sounds of the end of summer party and the pungent mix of spices and wood smoke still fill the air despite the lateness of the hour. For those of you who have sought rest it is a gentle lull in the background, the sound of people enjoying themselves after the worries of daylight hours. For those of you in the thick of it you are whirled into the dancing and the drinking as the circus folk mix freely with the tribals… and it is those of you out in the open who see the first signs of something wrong…
Two small lorries projecting circus AR signatures approach the main throng around the central fire pit in the town square. The crowd react with amusement, presumably expecting more impromptu entertainment as has been dished out this evening, until the sides of the lorries drop down and a nightmare tide poor out into the crowd…
Now you know why the sickly feral ghouls were so disturbed on your journey through their territory… it would seem some sick fragger has rounded up the healthier specimens, crowded them into two small lorries and then deposited the resulting rabid mess into the tribal’s laps…nearly the end of your job and somebody is trying to create their own zombie apocalypse!
-
After a few hours of horror dogmeat suddenly understand he is not the only one screaming ... while the thought of finally being understood appealed him. He had a feeling this is not the case this time. He reached for his RCC to check the drones feed.
Seeing the horror in the party he sends a message to the team:
Guys - the party seems wild... too wild get your guns and go there it is a massacre... the bloody day is over but the night is also quite bloody.
He calls all his drones to the action and then in an act of bravery he locks the door of his room, closes all the windows and crawl under the bad. Being in combat position he jumps into one of his rotodrones and sends the rest into the fight.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō had a polite but short conversation earlier with the pilot, Dogmeat. He refrained from explaining to the gaijin that calling him a ninja was actually an insult. He was after all, because of his ignorance, actually trying to make a compliment.
Having found Al earlier, he had left it to the dwarf to ask their employer about the troll's release. He then went off to find some sleep among the ruckus.
Ichirō dreamed of wearing the kabuto and menpō of the Imperial Guard. He dreamed of service, honor- purpose. In his dream it did not occur to him that the menpō served to hide his shame. All he knew is that it was the way of the samurai. The one true way to distinguish himself in hos father's eyes.
As Ichirō dreamt of the Imperial Palace the chrysanthemums began to turn red- a red too deep. A red the color of blood. This disturbed his psyche. He awoke disoriented but began to make out something that did not belong. He awoke to the sounds of battle.
-
Dogmeat ordered his drones in formation, trying to clear a path for retreat to all interested.
He used the speakers and yelled: Circus people... come here my drones will protect you!
He used two of his rotodrones in order to slow down the Ghouls and the third one to snipe the really mean ones just before they kill. They were so many of them and it took some skill not to do colleteral damage but in the massacre that was happening colleteral damage seemed to him almost like mercy killings - they did not have the luxury to avoid it - it was save as many as you can type of scenario.
He was not completely sure that it was really happening - as the horror of the night merged into his horror dreams.
Just in case he was not dreaming he sent the following message:
<<Broadcast[Dogmeat]
I may have finally lost it - but if you also see many ghouls eating people alive I am trying to group our people into a defensible location where we can land the LAV for evacuation. It is at these coordinates... I will use all my firepower - both spirits and drones - but there are so many of them I am not sure my dogs will be enough.
Cutter please bring the LAV to rescue as many circus folks as possible... Anyone that hear that and have a gun - you can take fire position on top of the carts - it should be a nice place to shoot from.
If you have a car - bring it along also we can use all the evacuation capabilities we can get.
-
As all hell starts to break loose, Cutter rushes toward the cockpit of his 'new toy' and straps in, transmitting to all friendlies in the area, <<If you want to evac, board up on the bird now! Once I take off, I'm gonna do some spray-and-pray!>>
-
<< Cutter! - it is good that you are too in this horrible dream - I am trying to organize some evacuation at these coordinates - I'll have plenty of cover fire from drones and even some magic. I think it is the best place to land your new toy.
*Coordinates attached.
*Included Drone feeds.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al watched in horror as two packs of feral abominations descended both on the circus people he was being paid to protect and the hippies that had taken him in.
It was a helluva distraction, he thought, as he climbed onto the roof of his truck's cab. People screaming as they got eviscerated by ghouls was not something he could just ignore. No doubt they'd planned it that way; whoever had so cleverly - and barbarically - unleashed this carnage hadn't gone to the trouble for shits and giggles. No, there was someone around here somewhere jockeying for a bigger prize.
Fortunately, his co-workers were coordinating an amazing response. So as he started pumping buckshot into any undead that came too close, he kept his main focus on spotting the real threat.
Hearing the screams of a woman as she was swarmed and devoured, he swore he'd find whoever did this and take it out of their hide.
-
Ichirō was torn between going for the LAV and going toward the dwarf named Al. In the end, he decided that Dogmeat could take care of himself once he was airborne.
He ran over to the truck and shouted at Al, "I shall make sure no one comes up behind you!"
With that he places himself facing directly away from where Al was shooting, trusting the dwarf to watch his back.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
"Muchos arigatos, honorable red-skinned amigo-san," Al shouted back over the gathering din of death-shrieks and automatic weapons fire. "I'll do the same fer you."
With Al now standing high atop the cab of his big Gaz pick-up truck, his gaunt frame and round ears made it clear that he was, in fact, of homo sapiens sapiens descent, however much his diminutive stature and sandpaper voice might indicate otherwise.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
After the initial tumult, screams, automatic weapons fire and the slavering of the ghouls, the noise drops off eerily fast. The Mechanicals, after the initial panic, react with startling efficiency, almost as if they’d trained for an attack like this…not that anyone could anticipate some sick fragger weaponising the local ghoul population! The circus folk too manage to keep their heads and retreat to the comparative safety of the land trains where they cram themselves in cheek by jowl…
That leaves a few ghouls in the open gorging on the flesh of the dead but they are easy prey for Dogmeat’s drones and the studied shots from Al and his oni compatriot. The LAV barely has time to make it into the air… from Cutter’s vantage point a devastated scene spreads out below, sprawling bodies, some moving feebly, and the low heat signature corpses of the ghouls that succumbed to weapon fire…but far too few for the devastation…so where have they all gone? Tribals begin appearing on the roof tops amidst the green houses and rooftop gardens, herding sleepy children and the rest of their frail or infirm…so if they are retreating to height…
-
Dogmeat sent his horizon flying eye('Little Dog') towards the tribal homes in order to see if they need his help.
His resources were stretched thin, as his drones where busy and even his spirit was pulling its weight. I only got my last card left to play - myself.... His continued the thought... I could probably get to the tribal homes with levitation and may even survive the trip using some invisibility. He was in poor shape but could still pull do some offensive magic.
His next thought was 'that's awfully brave of myself... better wait to see what the little drone discovers'
When the ghouls disappear, leaving behind them a mess of bodies some ghouls some half eaten people and unfortunately some people with bullet holes, Dogmeat flies his drones in combat formation towards the village.
He pulls out his deck and perform a matrix test to see if there is anything suspicious around.
[spoiler]Matrix perception (http://orokos.com/roll/264519): 12d6t5 2[/spoiler]
He then sends two of his drones to check on the village.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Picking off a stray that came too close, Al shook his head. "This here stinks worse than Catfish Thursday at Farley's Fish Freehouse back New Orleans way," he called to the oni. "Where in the name o' Captain damned America have all them things got off to?"
Without waiting for an answer, he jumped down and started moving in a rapid circle around the scene, eyes darting from side to side looking for sign. Couldn't be hard to track this lot.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō wondered who "Captain Damned America" was. A strange name that. But now was not the time fore idle musings so he brought himself back to the present. He stayed close on the dwarf's heel in case something nasty popped up.
-
Dogmeat transmit the following question:
<< Broadcast[Dogmeat] Anyone see where the zombies went? The dog is in the dark here. >>
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Smoke fans out from tipped over dustbin fires and kettle drum barbeques…the sound of the injured is beginning to increase as they come to realise that the immediate attack has subsided. Hands reach out towards you desperately seeking help as you circle through the devastation looking for the illusive ghouls.
Their trail is easy enough to follow for now…clusters of bodies at three locations in buildings off the central party space where defenders tried to stop them in their tracks. The stinking corpse of a ghoul is testament to their brutal toughness, it obviously sustained horrific damage before succumbing to its injuries…
A rather subdued Oblique addresses you over the sec channel
<<I am torn. I must keep my people safe but equally we always pay our debts and these tribals helped us when they didn’t have to. The attack even came in disguised as us from what security have informed me. I see only one way to resolve this and after discussing it with Torrent he has agreed. I will release you from your current obligation to us, with full pay, provided you stay and help the Mechanicals. This is on an individual basis so those of you who elect to stay with l’Ombre will accompany us to our rendezvous location in Tacoma. If you want to seek compensation from the Mechanicals I’m sure they will be grateful for your assistance, but I wouldn’t expect much financial reward. Let me know individually what you decide in the next five minutes, we are moving out then!>>
-
<<<Dogmeat[Oblique] I will stay with both you and the mechanicals, how long do you guys have toward your destination? I'll just split my forces. >>
Dogmeat rushes out of his quarters and starts treating the wounded.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Having tracked the ferals to three points, it was clear they were somehow more coordinated and focused than they should be. Instead of eating and running, they were going deeper into the compound's infrastructure...
Then Oblique's message. For Al, the choice was obvious - these hippies had pulled him out the deep stuff not once but twice (and charged him handsomely both times). More than that, this was where he lived. He would have their backs, hell or high water.
He needed to talk to Oyl or Bit, but finding them in this chaos would cost precious time any captives did not have. Anyway, the hippies had his number, and he knew they'd be in touch once they heard from the circus dwarf.
<<Ol' Al gon' stay with the Tribals. Been nice knowin' ya. Put me onna list fer yer next performance.>>
And with that, he resumed looking for the tracks of the still-missing ghouls.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
For Ichirō there was no gain in either decision. So he decided he might as well stay with the dwarf as that is what he had been doing so far. Perhaps this little man would be his good luck charm.
<<@Oblique[Fujikami Hiedeki] I shall remain to help the Mechanicals.>>
-
Al... ninja arm ichro. I am going with circus.leave drones with you. I extend marks for you two in case drones Mister behave
-
Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
<<Roger that, Dog-guy. What are they current autopilot orders?>>
Al paused to confirm the marks on the drones and top off his buckshot clip with spare cartridges in the cargo pockets of his fatigues. Then he resumed tracking the ghouls.
-
Roger that Al... their orders are simple, they shadow you two. One shadow you the other your tall friend. They go where you go - and shot what you shoot. I beleive they'll be less hassle to manage that way - but do take into account a followup shot when you shot.
I also left you a spirit of man named Bad dog whose order is to keep you alive until sunset. I am not in control of that spirit so I hope the bad dog plays well.
The third drone I am keeping with myself for self defense. The RCC is in the car so noise won't be a problem - but the car is instructed to flee in case it is attacked. So you might want to have a look at the car when the circus leaves. You have a mark for the car aswell you can override its predefined orders.
I am not sure I can jump in because of noise - But I will get the drone feeds and will be able to react, or to try a rescue mission should anything bad happen to you. Good luck guys -it seems like you will need it.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
<<Got it. Much obliged fer the back-up.>> Al replied, even as he heard the whir of the roto-drones come on station over his shoulder.
He gave a sharp whistle, and Spike, who had never been far off, bounded to his side. Al squatted beside the huge black hound, wrapped his left arm around his neck, and rubbed a severed ghoul arm in his nose. The dog whined plaintively in disgust at the reek, but did not try to pull away.
As always, Al spoke to him only in Tamasheq: "Go find 'em, boy. Run 'em down. We'll be rignt behind you." The big, lean animal was off like a shot. Al ran hard behind, half an eye out for the spirit that was supposed to have their six.
-
<<Let me know if you guys need a pick up. I'm keeping an eye on things from up here ready to lay waste if those ghoul bastards poke their heads out.>>
-
<<Cutter - It will be great - if you can stop to pick up my RCC it is safer in the LAV than it is in the car.
I am going with the Circus. Somebody has to stay with these guys - to keep them out of troubles. I left the drones here to help - so I'll mange them remotely but the RCC needs to remain here so that there is less noise for autopilot operation. Just attach it to one of the drones when you are done in here. >>
-
<<Al, if you could get that device into your hands, I can swoop down by ya so you can get it in here.>>
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al was just hitting a dead run behind Spike when he heard Cutter's request.
It was also at that moment he realized there was more than one big meta following in his wake. Turning, he saw that behind the big oni was an even larger figure - a young but huge troll hefting an old AK-97. Dammit.
Confronting the boy, who stood a full meter taller than himself, Al began with what had become, out of necessity, his usual opening with the kid: "Don't speak."
The trollster looked crestfallen - not because of Al's brusqueness, but because he could see in the tiny human's eyes that he was going to be sent home. Nothing for it.
"Listen, they's trouble enough 'round here an' ta spare, no need ta be runnin' about seekin' 'er out. Anyway, I got a job for ya. Gon' send you the marks fer a trashy little 'lectric number come in with the circus. You find that thing lickety split, be sure an' use the marks cuz it more'n likely has a mean sec system, an' you pull out the RCC. I know you know how to do that. Then you wave down that T-bird up there, hand off the tech, an' git yourself ta yore pa. Now go!."
It had taken ten long seconds, and Al turned and went after his dog without waiting for a reply, relaying the marks to Clack and the plan to Cutter as he ran.
-
<< Look guys you over thinking it - I'll just put it on the LAV myself. Cutter it'll take a few minutes but just keep floating above my car, and the RCC is there with you. Just pull your hands and reach for it. Sometimes I forget I can do a bit of magic. I am not gone quite yet.
Dogmeat levitates his RCC towards the LAV.
[spoiler]
Levitate (http://orokos.com/roll/264460): 13d6t5 3
drain (http://orokos.com/roll/264461): 11d6t5 6
no drain 3 meters per combat turn, that's 1 meter/second 60 meters a minute, 10 minutes to get 600 meters.
[/spoiler]
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Ichirō thought to himself, Again with the "Ninja'. Maybe I should explain it to these gaijin. But they probably wouldn't understand. Why the dwarf is sending this troll on a menial errand is beyond me- perhaps he does not know the proper utilization of that assault weapon. Leave it to the gaijin not to master the tools they carry.
Seeing the dwarf beginning to run, Ichirō picked up his pace- easily keeping up with Al.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
With Spike leading you, his growls masking his uncertainty, you plunge into the building on the north west corner of the square. The outside of the buildings in the Mechanical’s compound are deliberately unassuming, the insides are anything but and another time you might have stopped to admire the steam punk sculpting on every available surface. There is a sense that this is, or at least was, a much loved place full of busy industry…
Spike pauses at the top of a set of stairs leading down…his whines barely audible over the down draft of the menacing drones behind you. What is it about blind flesh eating monsters and the desire to hunt in stygian gloom?!
***
Proceeding cautiously now that you are below street level it is quickly apparent that the Mechanicals have extended these basements significantly beyond the outlines of the buildings above, and you strongly suspect that this network, warren even, might rival some parts of the Underground! It could take days to root out the bloody ghouls from down here…except as you are hunting them you also get the impression that they are hunting you…
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Just as in Graham several hours earlier, Tehran came flooding back. Of course he'd generally tried to stay above ground on those jobs, but there was that one dig where they'd just had to get into the tunnels under the Old Jame Mosque complex.
Well, he'd warned them.
And here he was again, playing cat and mouse with a bunch of dadblamed CHUDs in the dark. Except with the whir of the drones - welcome as their firepower was - it was all mouse and no cat.
<<Say there, Doggy-Amigo, any chance o' pullin' yer toys back a hunnerd yards or so, give us some manooverin' room?>>
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Spike has proceeded you into the next room, approximately under the next major building as far as you can tell, and he stops, clearly unsure which trail to follow. The room itself is dimly lit, and slightly smelly, humid vapours drifting over multiple hydroponics tanks that fill the space. The low rumbling growl that he makes fills the room but doesn’t mask the grisly munching sounds coming from behind one of the tanks on the far side of the large space…
***
30
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
One thing Al had learned, feral did not equal stupid. And these things could hear better than they could see. He doubted it didn't know they were there. Maybe it was just that stupid, but he'd be damned if he was going to find out the hard way.
Anyway, with no sounds of struggle, they were too late to help whoever the meal was.
First he scanned the ceiling - bad guys always assumed no one looked up. Then he knelt and whispered "Stay," to Spike in Tamasheq. Dog had so much sign he didn't know which way to go - another reason to believe the flesh-muncher off yonder was not alone.
He signalled for the oni to skirt the perimeter of the room, checking out the far sides of the other tanks before reaching the source of the sound, then he set off to do the same on the other side. Both were shadowed by a drone with orders to shoot whatever they attacked.
And floating in the middle of the room was Bad Dog.
But Al didn't generally have truck with spirits, so he figured it'd do what it thought best.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
The attack when it comes is shocking more for the damn quiet than from the fact that rabid ghouls are suddenly in your midst...
A grey, blood smeared, face appears in the back corner of the room, the jutting orc tusks a sad reminder of what he might once have been...he/it hisses sharply at the sight, or perhaps smell of you, and then the tanks of water erupt as the ghouls that had been lurking in them surge forwards. Their brute physicality doesn't seem to be hindered by the dripping vegetation clinging to them and for a moment it is like the scene from some horrible sim flic...
-
Damnit, I was gonna stay out of this... just keep my head down and blend in. But who the fragging hell sics ghouls on a circus and a bunch of tribals? I'm probably going to regret this...
As the team starts to descend into the basement there's a crunch of footfalls behind them. For a moment or two it seems that one of the circus folk has gotten lost and followed you, an albino orc you vaguely recall wandering around dressed all in white, normally you'd have noticed him easily but he'd blended in with the circus troop.
The jacket he's wearing is still a pure white, but you've seen enough armored jackets to know this isn't just normal street clothing, the white helmet doesn't look like a prop either, a pair of dermaplast forearm guards finishes the armor. The biggest giveaway though is the Ares Alpha the orc is holding, heavily modified and and held in a way that speaks of familiarity and experience.
As the orc approaches the rear guard he growls out a greeting.
"Name's Snow Crash... sorry for not helping out sooner but I've needed to keep my head down and blend in in about the only place someone like me possibly could." He glances back at the carnage left on the ghoul's wake "But some things you can't just let lie... think I'll be seeing, and hearing, this dreck even when I chip up for a while. So don't mind me, if I'm gonna sleep anytime soon I'm gonna need to find the one behind this and add a few ventilation holes." As he finishes he hefts the Ares Alpha with an unpleasant grin, shifting his shoulders to settle the sling into place as he walks down into the basement, barely even thinking about it as he flicks his eyes into thermal imaging mode.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle - five minutes ago]
Hot on the hunt, Al didn't want to waste a lot of time. But he'd been raised with manners.
Hand extended. "Very pleased ta meetcha. Alouicious Harlan Guthrie, esquire, at yer service."
He took a step back and surveyed his companions. "Well, well, we got red, an' now white. Hell, Spike, if you was jist blue we'd be set." The lanky giant of a dog whined in confusion at being addressed in English. "But then ol' Al's got 'nuff red, white, an' blue in 'im fer the all of us."
Referring to the non-sapient actors with them, Al quickly explained. "Drones'll mirror our shots, the injun-ghost there's jist supposed ta keep us safe - reckon it'll do as it pleases." He never looked at the spirit as he spoke of it.
Then he spoke to Spike in Tamasheq and they were off.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle - right now]
The tanks. Dad-blame it, the thrice-cursed hydroponics tanks.
Well, their funeral.
Al broke for the center of the room toward Spike, who was quivering with the tension between staying where he'd been told and wanting to rejoin his master. "Stay, boy, stay," Al shouted again in the desert tongue.
While scampering toward the center of the big room, he fired at ghouls as they came over the lips of the tanks, and was gratified to hear the contraption above his shoulder echoing his blasts. "Takin' the party ta stage center, everyone's invited," he yelled.
"An' you," he said to Bad Dog, "don't jist float there, make yerself useful or I'll put you down the moment I git done with these here zombie wannabes."
Damned worthless spirits. Soulless abominations at best, tools of the Adversary at worst, and never a one fit to drink with.
-
Dreck, why do they always charge in?! Going to be a tight shot, but if I can get it in over these tanks.
As The albino orc steps into the doorway the muzzle of his Ares Alpha lifts, mental commands via DNI to the smartgun system switching to the built-in grenade launcher and activating the wireless system of the chambered grenade. Aiming a bit beyond his new companions and between the tops of the tanks and the ceiling another mental command sends the grenade flying, lest the pressure of a trigger squeeze foul the shot. The orc doesn't even skip a beat, and with perfect timing sends a wireless signal to detonate the grenade, the blast raining shrapnel down on the ghouls from over the tops of the tanks while leaving it falling to the ground spent at Al and Spike's feet.
-
The dwarf seem to know what he was doing, so he followed his instruction.
But does he ever keep quiet? How has he lived this long in this line of business always making noise?
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al's shotgun blast and the follow up whine of fire from his tasked drone throw a ghoul back into the soup before the grenade goes off in a deadly wicker of flying shrapnel that pulps the three ghouls emerging from the far tanks...the air is momentarily replaced with razors as it rebounds of the ceiling, walls and shreds the plastic hydroponics tanks...litres of muddy enriched water are suddenly freed to cascade outwards in an expanding wave of detritus...
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al congratulated himself for keeping his feet in the face of the unexpected wall of air and debris that stung his face and gut-punched his whole body, but a split second later a greenish-brown wave of muck knocked him flat on his skinny ass.
Lying there at the bottom of the flood, he looked up and watched a flailing ghoul wash right over him a meter or so above his head, near the surface of the deluge. Freaking surreal. But then, these jobs always were.
And then almost as quickly as it had come, the waters subsided and the soaked little man wasted no time getting back onto his feet. His mouth tasted like his hippy neighbors had just force-fed him about fifty of their nasty kale and wheatgrass milkshakes. The first thing he saw was Spike's scolding look, and then he turned to see the ghoul he'd been swimming with rush him.
He leveled his Remington at its face and pulled the trigger.
-
Snow Crash was grinning as the fragmentation grenade went off, the blast and shrapnel shredding everything in the area, the grin was replaced by a look of shock as the meter high wall of muck water rushed towards him.
Nice work genius, you didn't think of where all that water would go did you?
The albino and pristine white dressed orc makes a dive for the nearby intact tank to take cover from the surge behind, only to get caught midair and tossed to the ground. The water flowering over him was also filled with bits of ghoul flesh and bone adding their own hues to the muck before the water subsides... leaving the orc much more colourful than before, he starts muttering curses in Or'zet as he looks up and sees a ghoul tearing out of the tank he'd tried to take cover behind.
Frag it all you have GOT to be kidding me!
The look of shock is replaced by a snarl, his muttering rising in volume, almost shouting the foulest Or'zet obscenities as he raises his Ares Alpha, take aim and fires a short burst while still flat on his back at the ghoul.
-
Ichirō decided now would be the time to take back the 'he seems to know what he's doing' thought about the dwarf.
How am I ever going to get all this drek off my suit...assuming I don't drown first.
And then the water was gone.
Ichirō notices a ghoul going after Al but before he can stand to intercept, the newcomer Snow began firing from the ground.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
As the deluge begins to subside the firing recommences, Al's shotgun and the roar of Snow's Alpha replacing the hiss of shrapnel in felling two more ghouls, the whine of the drone fire almost inconsequential. Before you can congratulate yourselves on your victories a weird ululating cry echoes around the chamber as the ghoul that had been snacking on an unfortunate rises to his bloodied feet at the back of the chamber...it sounds all too much like a summons! Briefly you can make out the insubstantial form of the dog spirit charging this reawakened threat but you are all distracted by the ghoul that lunges for Al, his flank being savaged by Spike...another monstrosity clambers over the bobbing corpse of its compatriot to get at Snow...and there's a sudden sickening slicing noise as a third ghoul, apparently oblivious to the whirling rota blades of the drones blunders into them as it emerges from the tunnel you came through to get here...the effect is dramatic on its physiognomy to say the least but it renders the already dynamically unstable drone it collided with into scrap narrowly missing Ichirō as plunges into the muddy morass...
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al wasted no time getting into full voodoo-mutter-mode, summoning all the power of the loa to keep the filthy beasts off of him and his aim true. The head of the one charging him exploded, while the other one reaching for him bled out in moments as Spike hauled it to the ground and tore out its femoral artery.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Snow Crash's cursing if finally cut off by the sharp retort of Al's shotgun blasting away the final ghoul standing over him. Standing and shaking at least some of the much away he steps heavily over to Al, clapping his back firmly "Thanks, wasn't looking forward to becoming their next snack.". Looking around he see's one ghoul still standing, although what looked to be a spirit bearing down on it, with a shudder and grimace the orc takes a kneeling firing position, lifting his Ares Alpha at taking aim at once of the doorways, finger resting on the trigger ready at the first sight of a ghoul rushing in.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
"Hell's bells, boy, give yerself some credit. Big strappin' feller like you, be a good sight more'n a snack! But yer most welcome indeed. Lordy, ya done took the edge off'n they ambush purty good, if'n we did pay a high price in terms o' personal hygiene."
He leveled his weapon at the last ghoul facing off with Bad Dog on the other side of the room and began advancing steadily, Spike at his side.
"You all right over there, Ichiro-san?"
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
As Al approaches the last remaining ghoul he sees it snatch the dog spirit out of the air and crush it out of material existence like squeezing a soyburger. The strange cry now has muttered words in it, some of them all too familiar to Al, the Creole dry and rusty, quite unlike the natural vocalisations of the feral ghouls. With a sandpapery shudder the ghoul rises to its feet and doffs a black top hat in Al's direction, the feathery fetishes clicking together. Rather than the rags from moments before the ghoul is clad in tails...
From outside the room you can hear the scuttle of feet over the whine of the drone's rotas...then they go quiet...damn things are clearly ambush hunters and their senses, even blind, are a damn sight keener than yours even with all your augmentations...
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
"Jonah inna whale, sumbitch is mounted," Al called to his companions.
Well, this would be easier than any other type of spirit - he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty.
"Alrighty then, CHUD-Buddy, let's see which of us the damned voodoo gods like best." And the little man resumed his muttering with a vengeance as he aimed and fired at the thing's head while Spike charged its legs.
-
Not to be left out the action, Ichirō stand and charges the enemy.
He hopes he doesn't get in the way of the dwarf's bullets.
But then again, the dwarf seems to know what he's doing most of the time.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
The graveyard chuckle that rasped around the room was drowned by Spike’s roar and the equally inarticulate bark of Al’s shotgun. Ichirō’s advance by contrast is all but silent…
The shotgun pellets pass through where the ghoul had been moments before and splash across the far wall of the chamber as the creature phases out of view…damn magic! Spike stops short and whines in confusion and the chuckle comes again, this time reverberating around the room in a way that makes it impossible to pinpoint its source…
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al grabbed Spike by the collar and pulled his nose down to where the abomination had been standing, the message clear. "Go git 'im, boy," the little man said in Tuareg, followed by some words of encouragement in English: "Tree that undead freak an' we'll show 'im what's what."
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Snow Crash swivels around, his focus lost, he snarls and spits shooting Al a venomous glare. Where moments before the orc was relatively calm and composed, you can visibly see his hands shaking on his weapon, muttering to himself in a mixture of English and Or'Zet eyes an head swiveling around wildly, his chest heaving a bit.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
As Spike cast about for the scent, Al noticed the albino ork's distress.
"Take a deep breath, there, kemo sabe. End o' the day, it's jist another feral with delusions o' grandeur. Whyn't you jist keep an eye on the doors while we flush 'im out?"
New guy was packing way too much ordnance to be allowed to lose his cool...
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
The orc visibly shudders, hands still shaking, growling in English.
"Fragging spirits.. can't trust them.. can't see them... here but not.. then they get into you... change you... make you something else..."
He resumes muttering to himself in Or'Zet, head rapidly casting around.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al
Spike puts nose to ground and begins to cast about for your prey…then he looks up…and up…
You are not surprised, barely, some movement in the air tells you that there is someone too close to you, a whiff of carrion breath, something that allows you to duck below the swipe from the materialising ghoul… the voice sounds tortured, like it is being dragged through vocal cords disused for far too long, the mangled Creole is almost in your ear…well, above your ear…
“Da Voodoo Gods luv ‘im best! Chien!”
@Icharo
Damn that thing looks bigger than you thought it would looming over Al, ok the dwarf is short but that fragger is big even for an orc…maybe it’s just the top hat…as the creature’s spell fades you realise it has done more than just conceal itself from view, there’s a momentary pause from the three ghouls that have snuck in from the route you came from, crouching feral creatures sniffing their way forwards…
@Snow Crash
Fragging spirits, fragging spirits…well the ugly one can deal with it…turning your attention outwards it’s almost a surprise, almost, when two ghouls materialise almost on top of you…how can these fraggers be so quiet…?
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
The instant the thing's claws swished by his face, Al shouldered, aimed and fired upward in one smooth motion, pausing only to congratulate himself on his keen senses and lightning reflexes.
"Flattery''ll getcha nowhere, chere," he retorted in gutter French, side-stepping out from under the huge thing. He sensed more ghouls closing in, but he kept his focus on this one, trusting Spike and his companions to have his back.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Snow Crash looks back at the door just in time to see the ghouls ready to lunge. He quickly spin and backpedals, a mental command swapping the Ares Alpha to full automatic as he braces the weapon. The assault rifle roars into life, the gas venting system desperately trying to control the recoil of the spraying lead but making the gun even louder as the albino orc swing it in an arc across the two ghouls as he screams in English over the sound of the riffle.
"Fragging ghouls! Fragging spirits! I survive the god damned bugs! You undead freaks aren't going to take me!"
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al was once again glad for his damper as the roar of the white ork's assault rifle combined with the crash of his shotgun, and then it all came bouncing back at them in almost the same moment, reverbing off the stone walls in an eery cascade of noise.
That was what bothered Al. The dim light was offset by his ware, lending everything a green-tinted science fiction hue that spoke of a rational world. But the noises - against the rasping wheezes and shrieks of enraged and dying undead, against the unearthly voice of the possessed uber-ghoul, the thundering chatter of their weapons sounded almost desperate.
And Snow Crash's panic was threatening to be contagious.
They'd handled the first wave handily enough. But it had cost them one of their drones and their spirit, and here they were coming again. He counted back in his mind - four left in the current clip….
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Al:
Fraggit, bloody ghoul moves faster than a greased weasel…the shot that should have been so satisfyingly on its centre mass is shoved aside by a strength you wouldn’t care to be on the receiving end of. You can feel its fetid breath on your skin and it is only your preternatural gods' given grace that is keeping it at bay…you need to get some distance on it, fighting this close is going to wind up badly, and from the sounds behind you distance is also something you are running out of…
@Snow Crash:
The gun bucks and roars and one of the ghouls takes an impromptu bath in the hydroponics vats from which it is unlikely to surface…the other barely winces as the bullets stitch a bloody track across its hide…the feral's eyes, though milky white, look hungry despite the fact that the outreaching claws have clearly already been used to ill effect this night…
***
37
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Baring fangs in triumph Snow Crash ducks and twists, desperately trying to keep his armored jacket between the ghouls claws and his own flesh, seeing a momentary gap he breaks into a run, putting several meters between himself and his attacker, shouldering the bulky assault rifle over his shoulder on the sling as he does.
Having momentarily given himself some breathing room the albino orc suddenly spins, dreadlocks flailing behind him in a spray of mucky water as a hand dives under his jacket, reappearing a moment later with an Ares Crusader II machine pistol in hand, drawing aiming and firing in one smooth motion while still keeping on the move, the grace and co-ordination of this complex maneuver almost impossible to pull off without expensive muscle and reflex enhancement 'ware.
The triple bark of the gas vented machine pistol is nothing compared to the roaring assault rifle moments early but still adding to the cacophony filling the room and making the orcs unprotected ears ring. The din, confusion and adrenalin once again pushing the orc into bellowing obscenities in Or'Zet at his target.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al backpedaled in what, as best as he could tell in the dark and confusion, was the only direction without any other ghouls in it. But the voodoo freak, monkeying along the ceiling hanging from the pipes that fed the tanks, stayed right on him. Every time he tried to take a shot it batted his barrel aside, and still somehow found a free hand to take a vicious swipe at him. When Al tried to back up faster, he nearly lost his footing on the muck-covered floor.
Beside him, black coat almost invisible in the gloom, Spike whined in frustration at being unable to reach their foe.
Frantically ducking another blow, Al saw a flash of familiar white out of the corner of his eye. It was another dog, huge as Spike, but this one fluffy and white. The Akita barked, then turned and ran around behind a big tank, one of the only ones still intact after the albino's grenade blast. Without even thinking, Al turned and followed, risking a rear attack in favor of speed.
It worked, he left the mounted ghoul behind, but when he got to the other side of the vat the big Akita was gone. He turned to see the undead creature almost upon him, having gone the short way across and over the huge tank. And in that moment, Al knew why he'd been led here - he raised his weapon and fired, just as the thing was preparing to launch itself at him in a terrible leap. But his narrrow-choked stream of buckshot zipped past the thing's ear and straight into the rusting supporting strut bearing the abomination's weight, and it plunged headlong into the brackish surface of the water, disappearing.
For the moment.
"Snow - pop one in that there tank!"
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
@Snow:
Fragging ghoul had come close to snagging you...you can still feel the tug of its claws in your jacket...fragger didn't like being shot though and as your rounds wing it the bloody thing dives down onto all fours like an ape and leaps behind the dubious cover of one of the vacated tanks...now Al is yelling at you...
@Al:
Hadn't been expecting that had it? Now if Snow can just end it you can concentrate on helping out the Oni who seems to be holding his own against the three that sloped in behind you...holding his own but not making much headway as the fraggers are crawling all over him. The sparking wreck of the second drone reveals why you haven't been hearing that particular noise of late...
The voodoo freak thing rises from the turgid waters like something on a bad horror trid...you can feel the hate and the fear emanating from it...frag, you can really feel it...
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
In that moment, in the dark, surrounded by desperate snarls and screams, the top-hatted undead visage filling his vision, dripping with greenish bracken, in that moment Al knew if he lingered a moment longer the thing would eat his soul. It wouldn't just kill him, it would tear his soul to pieces and damn whatever scraps remained to an endless fiery torment.
Later, he would know it was nothing but a magical parlor trick, but in that moment such a thing never occurred to him. He knew, just as he knew Democrats were evil and that his mother loved him, he knew if that thing touched him he'd be damned for eternity.
His shotgun dropped, catching on the shoulder strap. His weight shifted, he half turned to flee…and there was Spike, undaunted, snarling up at the thing in the vat.
And just as Al knew that he'd be doomed if he stayed, he knew Spike and his new companions would be doomed if he fled. He felt a burning on his back. They were with him. And he thought of the choice they had made. And that left him with no choice at all.
The terror washing away in his new clarity, he leveled his shotgun once more, looked the thing in the eye, and smiled as he pulled the trigger.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
As the ghoul was whinged and ducked for cover Snow Crash turned in the direction of the shout, a plan rapidly forming in his augmented mind.
He took only a step to come to a halt, dropping to one knee and placing the machine pistol on the floor. Reaching around he unslung the Ares Alpha from his back, resting it against his shoulder as eyes traveled from the tank to the ceiling and back, his mind spinning, but rather than the panic of before it's the maths of trigonometry, force and calculating ricochets that his augmented brain is plowing through. It takes only a couple of seconds for him to do the math and take aim.
"FIRE IN THE HOLE! FRAGGING GET DOWN!!!
The grenade launcher coughs. There's the sharp PING! as the grenade ricochets off the ceiling. The sharp splash of it hitting the water. A slight thud as it hits the back of the tank. Then the roar as the grenade goes off underwater just as the ghoul is trying to climb out, obliterating the tank in a moment and sending water and tank pieces flying everywhere.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
In the face of the fear and hate being projected from the seemingly bottomless maw of the beast Al’s shotgun blast seems almost inconsequential. The buckshot rips holes into the things clothing to reveal battered armour plating underneath…unlike the other ghouls it clearly retained enough of its humanity to recognise that walking unarmoured in the sixth world was a quick ticket to the other side. The same could not be said for its resistance to a second grenade blast at its feet…even with the water limiting the impact, the geyser of brackish liquid and ghoul bodyparts fill the space once more with a choking mist and deluge as the last but one tank is perforated from the inside out. Al and Icharo are splattered with gore and a rain of shrapnel which has thankfully lost most of its explosive force in the trip through the sides of the plastic tank.
With their leader dispatched the remaining ghouls seem to lose heart and flee the scene…
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Al's dive for cover had perhaps spared him the flying shards of plastic and bone, but it only made the deluge of weedy sludge worse. Spitting muck, he dragged his soaked frame to its feet in time to see the remaining ghouls doing the same. He took down the first one that started to run with a well-placed blast, and Spike dragged another down to the ground, where it quickly experienced death by mauling - a taste of its own medicine, no doubt.
Taking a moment to top up his clip and prepare to mop up any surviving ferals in the compound, he offered high-fives to his red and white companions.
And congratulated himself twice. The voodoo gods did love him best, and now he knew that Dog loved him even more.
-
[Sunday September 15, 2075; Under the Mechanical's Compound, Puyallup, Seattle]
Firing the shot the orc quickly slung the rifle back over his shoulder and picked up the machine pistol before the wave of muck could foul it. Standing slowly he surveys the carnage, much of it caused by the two grenades, seeing the remaining ghouls fleeing he re-holsters the Ares Crusader II and tried to wipe some of the muck from his jacket and calm his still rattled nerves.
In his rattled state he can't help tensing as Al approaches, even flinching slightly at the proffered high-five.
He's not a bug.. right? no.. somekindafraggedup voodoo thing.. witch doctor or sumthin? he.. he still got a spirit in him? fraggit
The albino orc barely suppresses a cringe as he briefly clasps Al's hands, unconsciously wiping it on his jacket afterwards, forgetting the amount of muck still clinging to it.
"Well, I'm fragging glad that's over with... reakon gonna complicate me laying low though. *humph* wonder what Europe's like this time o' year...