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[5e IC] Sunt Venatores Venationem

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Tecumseh

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« Reply #285 on: <04-06-16/0030:36> »
Achak sees the sweep coming for his legs and figures he can hop over it. No need to block. Keep the club in position to counterstrike.

He figures wrong, as the ork neatly scoops Achak's legs out from underneath him, flipping him horizontal before slamming Achak into the ground with the telescoping staff.

WHOOF, the air rushes out of Achak's lungs as he cracks the back of his head on the floor. His lined coat absorbs the worst of the shock but the lack of oxygen is going to make the rest of the fight that much harder.

Stupid! Achak thinks to himself, struggling to his feet despite being unable to catch a full breath. He swallows his pride and asks for help. <<@Sister Rebecca [Achak] Sister, some assistance if you please!>>

The ork swings again and Achak is keen not to make the same mistake twice. He parries the blow aimed at his face, bracing himself so that he's not bowled over backwards by the ork's forward thrust. The ork growls while Achak wheezes from the effort.

Sister Rebecca advances, hoping to tag-team the ork much in the same way that she and Achak had downed the oafish Hungarian at the Yakuza club just a couple nights before.

rednblack

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« Reply #286 on: <04-11-16/1329:21> »
Sister Rebecca breaks into a quick trot, and uses her momentum to carry her up and over the receptionists desk much more lithely than her frame suggests that she's capable of.  The chainsaw whines as she opens up the throttle and raises the chainsaw to deliver a massive blow from above, but the ork practically stumbles forward and catches the inside of her elbow with his telescoping staff.  A quick jerk downward and the momentum from Sister Rebecca's attack is lost, and she almost loses control of the chainsaw, its monofilament blades coming dangerously close to her shoulder, before they slice right through the desk behind her.

The ork flicks the staff up, catching the good sister in the chin, snapping her head back.  He follows up with a spinning move, hoping to catch Achak in a similar position, but the movement is a bit clumsy, lacking the ork's earlier elegance, and the hunter is ready to catch the staff with his gunstock war club, and parry the blow downward.  The ork begins retreating to a flurry of blows from Achak, as the man tries to knock the staff away at distance so that he can close and deliver a knockout blow.  The chance comes when the ork makes a tactical misstep and chokes down too far on his staff in favor of some reach.  Achak parries the staff away to his outside, closes the distance quickly, and catches the ork with the blunt side of his staff across the jaw. 

The ork staggers for a moment, but before Achak can follow up with another strike, he pushes the hunter back two steps, and spits two bloody molars before speaking, a trickle of blood running down his cheek, while red spittle accents his words, "Oi, nighthawker, so it's going to be like that, eh?"
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Tecumseh

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« Reply #287 on: <04-14-16/1715:00> »
Achak winces. It was Sister Rebecca who got hit but Achak feels it almost as keenly. The Sister has taken a square blow on the chin, snapping her head back. Oi, did that break her jaw? Achak wonders. Did she bite her tongue? She snapped her neck harder than a chiropractor.

Achak doesn't bother to banter with the ork. Perhaps there's somethign to these repeated "nighthawker" references, not that he understands it or knows what it means. But the truth is he's too busy trying to keep both himself and Sister Rebecca upright to inquire further.

<<@Team [Achak] Time to go. Sister, grab the case and proceed to the exit.>>

As the Sister moves to grab the case, Achak steps forward to screen the ork, swinging his club in front of him to keep the ork at bay. The ork easily skips away. Achak is discouraged by the diminishing quality of his strikes, but the goal now is to keep Sister Rebecca intact. No more Johans, he reminds himself.

Achak retreats, keeping his club high and at the ready until he is certain that he is outside of Little John's charging distance.

rednblack

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« Reply #288 on: <04-20-16/1230:06> »
Having met a standoff where neither seems to be making any headway, Achak and the big ork stand down.  Achak retreats back to the receptionist desk, holsters his club and draws his Ares Crusader II.  The ork likewise retracts his staff with a flick of the wrist, and reaches into his coat as Achak loses sight of him behind a wall.

Sister Rebecca grabs what's left of the briefcase, and nods to Achak, still a little unsteady on her feet.  The nod says, "I'm fine, really," and she begins to head for the door.  Sucking blood from between her teeth, her first instinct is to spit, but the good sister resists that urge.  Powerful blood magic was cast here, just a few moments ago, and she isn't interested in leaving these vampires a link that they may exploit later.  And then there's law enforcement, and the sirens that she can already hear approaching the office.

Outside, Mercer has brought the van to a halt, and grabbed Stake, his Ares Alpha.  Mentally, he pops open the door, and begins making his way toward the front door of the office complex as the Knight's Errant patrol car screeches to a stop.  Two metas emerge from the car, the driver a rather stocky woman with a drawn Ares Predator, and the passenger a tall elf man sporting a Crusader II.  "Hands up!  On your knees!" the latter shouts, taking cover behind the door of his vehicle. 
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Malevolence

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« Reply #289 on: <04-24-16/0058:04> »
With Stake in one hand and Vera slung over his shoulder, he sends a quick message to Nori and steps from the van.


<< @Nori [Mercer] Can you keep these KE off our backs? >>


Before he even has a chance to close the van door, the cruiser comes to a stop and the two officers erupt from either side.

"Hands up! On your knees!"


He briefly thinks about asking them to stand down - playing the haughty part of the corporate security taking charge of the scene - but decides against it. The van was unmarked, and since Sunrise was not an extra-territorial capable organization, they most likely wouldn't recognize the authority of any private security company anyway. Well, and Sunrise WAS a private security company, so there was that.


No, he either had to engage them or run. Engaging them meant jumping back int the van and delaying any assistance he could offer to Achak and Rebecca. And a shoot out with the cops in public - especially considering his dearth of non-lethal options - didn't sit right. The other option was to run - not flee the scene, but get to the building and break their line of fire, take the fight inside where there were fewer civilians and more things to take cover behind should it end up in a firefight anyway. But more importantly, breaking line of sight meant the ability to lay traps.


He hunkered down and bolted toward the door of the building, mentally commanding the van door to close as he ran. The pop-pop of the lawmen's pistols sounded as he ran until he finally pushed through the door and ran down the hall. He sent a command to the van to move around to the rear of the building, giving the Knights something else to chase, or getting Nori to safety, depending.


He paused to squelch the adrenaline pumping through his veins and force his nerves to report if any of the bullets from the cops had found their mark.
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rednblack

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« Reply #290 on: <04-27-16/1217:36> »
Mercer hears the shots behind him, a flurry of loud reports, but no bullets find their way to his body armor, nor do they crack into the glass doors of the office building. . . or anywhere around him for that matter.  He'd suspected it before, but now he's almost certain that there are no Knight's Errant officers.  Fraggin' zekes and their thralls.  He makes his way inside the office complex, and as soon as he pops the door he can smell burning carpet and cordite.  Aside from that, all is quiet, and the bottom floor is even congenial in that strip mall happy face kind of way, AROs helpfully leading him to whatever institution he would like to spend his hard-earned cred. 

Upstairs, Achak and Sister Rebecca are making their way to the back staircase unmolested.  Wherever that big ork went, he doesn't seem keen on revisiting them, and Sister Rebecca breathlessly informs Achak that the sentry, somewhere on this floor, is seeking cover himself.  Keeping what's left of the case intact is taking both of her hands, and most of her attention, so Achak unslings his gunstock war club in his left hand, and keeps his automatic in his right should another spirit surface, or anything else that they'd missed for that matter.

They hit the stairs with no trouble.  If they're looking for a clean getaway, they'd better get to it.
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Tecumseh

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« Reply #291 on: <04-28-16/0104:45> »
Achak skips away from Little John, who seems to withdraw as well. Once Achak is certain that the ork is not in pursuit, he exchanges his gunstock war club for his Ares Crusader in preparation for a gun fight in the hallway with the sentry. Then he remembers the blood spirit and decides he better be ready for that too. The club comes back out and rests in his left hand while his right hand holds the machine pistol at the high ready.

<<@Team [Achak] Exiting. We could use an evac at or near the fire exit. Presently, if possible.>> The good Sister's MGL doesn't really fit under her jacket. If K-E is on the scene, she'll catch their eye, Raziel or no.

<<What's the update on Johnny Law? We had a grenade go off so the clock is hot.>>

He glances at the smear that used to be Ponytail.

Achak takes Mercer's Fly Spy out of his pocket and tosses it over his shoulder. He gives it a command to follow while periodically checking in the direction of the Sunrise office so that they don't get shot in the back or, worse, caught in a crossfire. 

He looks over at Sister Rebecca, who is clutching the metal case to her chest with both hands. She wheezes as she runs and wavers unsteadily. Jesus, did that ork pulverize her jaw? She's lucky he didn't clip her throat.

<<@Team [Achak] Does anyone have a medkit? We're not operating at 100%.>>

He uses the collective "we" even though his injury is little worse than a sore back and bruised pride. Sister Rebecca's moral compass does not allow her to lie nor actively deceive.

<<@Team [Sister Rebecca] I am injured>> she confesses to the group. <<<I have failed in the face of evil. I will repent.>>

Achak rolls his eyes, reasonably certain that Sister Rebecca is too focused on keeping her footing to notice. He has the language to counter thinking like this, but right now his attention is elsewhere. He would counsel the Sister once it was safer to do so.

To his surprise, they reach the stairwell without encountering any opposition. He skips down the stairs two at a time, then holds Sister Rebecca back before she plunges blindly out the back door. Achak leans his head out and puts the full force of his powers of perception on the scene before concluding that it is safe. The cold December rain continues to fall.

<<@Team [Achak] At the rally point. Let us know if we need a new rally point.>>

Malevolence

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« Reply #292 on: <04-28-16/0155:29> »
Convinced he hasn't acquired any new piercings, Mercer prepares a grenade to leave for the police, should they follow him into the building. Before he can throw it, Nori reports that the patrol car is gone - never there gone. Damn wiggly fingers and their tricks.


But word came from Achak that they were getting out of Dodge and that they were wounded. Mercer updates them on the illusion and directs them to the rear exit of the building for evac, meeting them there. He's not sure how he had expected this to end once the lead started flying, but he was sure that leaving that powerful a mage standing was going to be a problem later. Leaving Iki alive didn't work out well, so he felt justified in his thinking. But they had the case, which was the main objective. They had answers - they had names, they knew what had become of Iki, and they knew beyond a doubt that Sunrise was in deep with the Zekes. At this point, the contents of the briefcase were a bonus, but a very welcome one. As  many answers as they had, they lacked proof, and the law man in him didn't like that.


They pile in to the van and Mercer directs Achak to the medkit so he can get the Sister started, then sets the pilot to take them from the scene by way of the front of the building. As they pass through the front parking lot, he uses Joey to place a tracker on the Westwind while he also fires a couple shots at the "open" window with Sean, just to make the shot at the Westwind less obvious.


But a thought enters his head as he pulls the guns back into the vehicle.


<<@Nori [Mercer] Can you see if there are any trackers on the briefcase? I don't want to be fooled by the same trick twice. >>


In the rear-view provided by AR, he catches Nori's car starting up and moving to follow them.
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Tecumseh

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« Reply #293 on: <04-29-16/2053:18> »
The Roadmaster screeches up on the rain-slick pavement. The rear door automatically pops open, warmth and protection radiating out. Achak nods to Sister Rebecca to go while he covers the alley. She staggers into Roadmaster, having a hard time with the step. Her hands are clasping the case so intently that she can't pull herself in, even though her legs are threatening to give out. Nori, dropping out of VR into AR, reaches forward and helps pull her in.

Achak sprints through the rain and slides in behind Sister Rebecca. "Go!" he says, more loudly than necessary but Jazz does that sometimes. He props his club against the door while he keeps his Ares Crusader just below the window. He keeps his eyes peeled for any pursuit while also concentrating on his magic sense. He needs a second of warning in case a blood spirit materializes in the middle of the van. Beating it to death with a club would be a chore in close quarters so he hopes it doesn't come to that.

"She took a shot!" he explains, again more loudly and more forcefully than really necessary in an enclosed space. The Jazz and the adrenaline make him semi-crazed. "Huge ork, magic staff! Squared off against both of us! Put me on my hoop and caught her under the chin! She needs a medkit!"

He's probably overselling the Sister's damage. She's not in any imminent danger of dying, but Achak is feeling culpable and is desperate to avoid another Johan. The Sister needs to survive if he's going to be able to keep doing this work.

Mercer points out the medkit to Achak. The Amerind has no training for first aid and, really, no brain for it either. The drugs certainly aren't helping, as the complex words and instructions of the medkit swirl around in a jumbled haze.

"Nori, are you any good at this?!" Achak asks while Mercer circles to lose any tails. "I gotta keep watch!" He turns back to the window. The normal, rainy December evening helps to calm him somewhat, his hearing picking up on every little ping-ping-ping of the raindrops on the window.

He switches to comming so that he can talk to Mercer privately without alarming Nori nor riling up Sister Rebecca, who needs to rest.

<<@Mercer [Achak] they had a blood spirit, the slitch geeked iki and turned him into a blood spirit, went down easy enough but still thats what we are up against, that and the huge ork with magic staff, i pounded that motherfragger three times with my own beatstick and he barely seemed any worse for wear, fought to a standstill but broke it off after he just about knocked the sisters jaw off, got out of there with the metal case ponytail was holding before sister turned him into a skid mark, not sure if its their offline server or if its ponytails personal collection of lad rags from the last century>>

Malevolence

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« Reply #294 on: <05-05-16/0320:08> »
As the Sunrise building faded into the ever present Seattle fog, the adrenaline wore off, and a million nerve endings screamed out in pain. You've been electrocuted, you moron! they told him.


Achak was prattling incessantly in the back, much louder than the low din of activity in the van required. Combat drugs, Mercer surmised. But Achak's voice was grating on him now that every inch of his skin was clamoring for his attention. The windshield wipers took a half-hearted pass at the mist blurred glass of the windshield, but it hardly mattered. The autopilot could care less about the condition of the glass, and even if Mercer were driving, he'd be working more through the AR enhanced display than what he saw through the windshield.


Achak seemed concerned about the Sister. She took a solid blow to the face - probably lost a tooth or two - but from what Mercer could see, it wasn't quite life threatening. Lot of blood, though. It'd definitely need stitches, though magic made even that uncertain. If Rebecca could work her mojo on herself, she might end up with little more than blotchy purple skin for a couple days or so, and he expected that the good Sister could apply some concealer and you'd hardly notice. He could do it for her if needed - he was man enough to admit that squirreled away in the med kit were a number of women's beauty products that had no purpose other than to hide the fact you'd taken a beating the night before. His previous team had included a B&E guy that could not only cook up a disguise with little more than a trip to the makeup aisle at the local Kong-Walmart - or even Stuffer Shack if in a pinch - but could make you look like you won that fight without a scratch for all but the most meticulous observers.


But, he supposed his attitude toward such an injury was rather cavalier. Having been in this line of work for so long against beings with super-human strength and speed, you gain a certain familiarity with the true limits of human durability. Bleeding profusely was frequently dangerous not because of the trauma that caused it, but because the damnable fiends that fed on it had a sense for blood that rivaled a shark. He clamped down on any number of smarmy remarks he was contemplating and instead spoke in that relaxed, soothing voice of command that he had perfected over years of calming fresh hunters coming face to face with the Infected horrors for the first time.


"There's a medkit under the front passenger seat," he pointed. "Top of the line whatsit-"


"Expert system," chimed Nori, having come out of her trance-like trip into VR at some point.


"Yeah, that. Fully stocked. It'll all but heal her itself. Go ahead and get her started and I'll check on her in a moment once I'm sure we're free and clear." He peeked out at the sky using every sense available to him. He was pretty sure no vehicles were following, but the darkness and fog and countless drones crisscrossing the night sky made it nearly impossible to spot a drone tail. He eventually gave up, set the auto pilot to a random Taco Bell ("all restaurants are Taco Bell" his mind told him, though he wasn't sure where that stray thought came from) about 15 kilometers away, and carefully stood and walked to the back where the sister was staring blankly at the streaks of blurry light playing across the windows as the van drove through the darkened city.


Achak had made poor progress as his hands shook, from the coming down off of the combat drug - Jazz it seemed, by the way his eyes were dilated - as well as his general state of panic at Rebecca's condition. Mercer gently took the medkit from him - he'd hardly noticed Mercer approaching, but after being momentarily startled, he gave up the medkit quickly and began muttering rapidly about the orc they'd fought. Mercer remembered him from the parking lot when he'd escorted the woman into the building. Hearing about the magic staff was interesting, but not particularly new - many of the Infected were magically inclined, either because the infection Awakened them or because they were "recruited" for their gift - and so he'd run into such items often enough.


Before starting up the kit's expert, Mercer took a moment to reboot all of his equipment excepting the van and the fly-spys, though he'd do that once they pulled into the Taco Bell parking lot. He was pretty sure he'd taken the decker offline - in the permanent sense - but he'd never denied accusations that he used an over-abundance of caution. Once everything was back up, Mercer followed the AR instructions the medkit fed him and soon the wounded woman begin to focus on the events around her. He also did his best to calm Achak down, but he made little progress until Rebecca showed solid signs of recovery. The rambling mostly stopped, and soon after Achak messaged him privately, filling him in on the adversaries they faced in the building. The mention of a blood spirit made his blood run cold. Not because he'd never met one before, but because he had. Again, once you crossed the line and started feeding on people, the slip into blood magic was almost an afterthought. Probably one in five Infected mages dabbled in blood magic, and the only reason it was just dabbling was because most of the Infected he had the "pleasure" of encountering were young enough that they hadn't yet completed that journey. But even so, blood magic was bad. Magic could be a little scary, but blood magic couldn't be anything but scary.


Once she had snapped back into the world, Rebecca relaxed back into her chair and closed her eyes, willing magic through her body. Seconds passed and the wounds on her face visibly healed. When she was done, she had little more than a fat lip, though the mother of fat lips it was.


-------------------


The next morning Mercer awoke and stepped out into the common area of the small flat that Achak had provided to find him pacing back and forth. He'd been agitated all last night, punishing himself for failing to dispatch the ork, and Mercer assumed that this was still the case.

"Coffee's on" Achak said, and pointed to the coffee machine in the small nook that passed for a kitchen. Mercer poured himself a cup and reflected. Eventually, the team had convinced itself they weren't being followed and so they had pulled into a parking lot and bid farewell to Nori. She was uncharacteristically muted in her tone as she said her good-byes, and Mercer suspected she was practically bursting with excitement, but was showing as much decorum as she could muster on account of the wounds the team had sustained. He expected he'd receive a suitably rapturous message from her later, but for now she tried but failed to not say "wiz" every other sentence.


When they got home they discovered that the contents of the briefcase were encrypted. That was when the conversation turned to recruiting a computer expert. Achak had floated Nori, but Mercer wouldn't consider it - he'd been wary of involving her as much as they already had, he certainly wasn't going to encourage her. They'd discussed it for about five minutes before calling it quits on account of the Sister having passed out.


Speaking of which...


"Where is Rebecca?" he asked Achak.


"Said she had to meet with her guy. A car picked her up about fifteen minutes ago."


He slept in way too late these days, he decided. "Well, when she gets back, we can pick up where we left off. If we can't come up with someone we trust between the three of us, I can dip into the Grotto1 well again. Gonna be tough to do without alerting Nori, but there's a couple folks I know by reputation only that I can reach out to."
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Tecumseh

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« Reply #295 on: <05-07-16/0156:32> »
Achak spends the rest of his Jazz high feverishly searching for threats outside of the Roadmaster. He is grateful for the armored car, but also painfully aware that a zeke could mist inside JUST LIKE THAT or a blood spirit could pop up in the passenger SEAT JUST LIKE THAT! He shares his concerns with Mercer via comm, much to the latter's dismay.

Achak says a prayer of thanks that Sister Rebecca responds so well to treatment. The automated medkit quickly sets her jaw by circulating collagen and chondroblasts, which precede a rapid barrage of osteoblasts and osteoclasts. The good Sister further accelerates the healing process with her magic. She murmurs prayers in between her swollen lips. "Thank you, Raziel, for your faithful service. Please commend me to our Lord, as I will commend thee."

Achak comes down off his Jazz high. Since the Sister is not gravely injured, Achak's miseries center around his inability to drop the ork. He recounts the fight is excruciating detail, oblivious to Mercer's detachment. "Three times I hit him! Squarely! Maybe even four! He came back for more and put me on the floor!" The catchy rhyme does not catch on. He gnashes his teeth and pulls his hair and swears at himself in Or'zet until the drugs finally run their complete course, at which point he fall asleep. He wakes up with a stiff neck and his head propped against the Roadmaster's window.

He grunts and directs Mercer to his Capitol Hill apartment. He pulls his six duffel bags up the stairs to the spartan unit, dumping them unceremoniously in the corner.

"Allow me to take the first shift tonight," Sister Rebecca offers. "I will ask Saint Peter of Alcantara to watch with me."

Achak silently searches the Matrix for a clue of who Saint Peter of Alcantara is, or was, or whatever the proper tense is for Saints that were once human but who now may be summoned as readily as angels. <<@Mercer Patron saint of night watchmen.>> Not that Mercer asked.

Saint Peter of Alcantara appears dressed in a Franciscan habit. He silently sits next to Sister Rebecca, who is sitting up against a wall herself. She whispers to the spirit is Latin, who listens patiently and passively.

After taking a shower and eating a bowl of rehydrated noodles, Achak somewhat ludicrously pulls the couch in front of the hallway door to prevent it from opening. He dons his full body armor then falls asleep on the couch with his Ares Alpha and gunstock war club within easy reach. Mercer shakes his head and takes the bed.



Sister Rebecca shakes Achak awake in the early hours of the morning. They switch places, with Sister Rebecca sleeping while Achak paces around the small unit, constantly checking his magical senses for any hint of magic or nearby motion. Saint Peter of Alcantara watches him wordlessly while the Amerind swishes his club in the air, recreating the fight with the ork.



Achak can hear Mercer's breathing change, and knows the other man is awake.

"Soykaf is on," Achak says, pointing to the small, stained soykaf machine in the small nook that passes for a kitchen.

Mercer asks where Sister Rebecca is.

"She got a call from her handler," Achak explains. "She has to file another report in person. She wanted to go alone but I reminded her what happened to Stake. A car picked her up about fifteen minutes ago. I escorted her down."

Achak shivers. Perhaps it is the cold December rain drumming on the windows, or the chilly draft from under the door, or the fact that he feels naked without magical protection when vampires and blood spirits are out for him.

"We need someone to help with the case," he agrees, casting a guilty look at the battered case. He had been the one to give the order for Sister Rebecca to fire, and that had been because he couldn't drop Ponytail on his own with his Ares Crusader, even with the element of surprise. He mentally lashes himself and his incompetence.

"Someone good in a scrap too," he adds, lamenting the need for backup. His own ineffectiveness means that others will be put in harm's way. "If Grotto1 has been compromised, I have some old smuggling chummers who may be up to it."

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« Reply #296 on: <05-13-16/0220:29> »
"There's a chum I know," Achak continues. "An ork who goes by Spitfire. We did some runs together back in our smuggling days." Achak pauses to reflect on how long ago that was. He got his start in smuggling as a wet-behind-the-ears teenager in Cascade Ork. His heightened perception made him a valuable lookout and spotter, and things went from there.

"I haven't talked to him in a couple years so I don't know what he's up to now. He's the nomadic type. Lives in his van, not the best body odor, you know?" Achak wrinkles his nose at the memory, his stomach turning in advance of what he assumes his improved sense of scent will have to deal with. "The 'only-my-drones-understand-me' type."

Achak reminds himself that it has been a couple years; he knows that he has changed significantly in that time and should make allowances that Spitfire may have changed too. To give a man the benefit of the doubt was a good Christian principle.

"Or at least he was at the time; things may have changed. But he's a steely-eyed wheelman and pretty sharp." ("...for an ork," goes unsaid.) "I bet he can process this case for us and then, when it's done, provide some cover wherever we need to go next."

Achak sorts through the listings on his commlink, settling on what he's kinda sorta maybe sure is the most recent commcode he has for Spitfire. He makes the call.

<<@Spitfire Hoi, it's Achak. You in the Seattle area? I've got some easy work for you that could point toward a big payday.>>

He wonders how transparent to be. Most people - even hardened runners - would blanch if they knew that the Infected were involved, especially if the team were being specifically targeted.

<<Need some decryption done. I'm sure you can handle it. That should direct us to some lucrative targets. We could use the fire support. It'd be just like the old days, right?>> Achak gags a bit and hopes that Spitfire has started sleeping indoors sometime in the last few years, but somehow he doubts it.

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« Reply #297 on: <06-19-18/1430:42> »
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