November 2072
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Thu Nov 15
Screamsheet Headlines Fight For Attention
»Warrens "Containment" Strategy«
»Politically Connected R&D Corp Bombed?«
»Ramirez Ceases Filibuster On Prop 87-B / Pan-National Frisk Act. Possible Council Vote Next?«
»50K =Y= Bounty 4 Terrorist 'Suspect' Connor Seale«
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Fri Nov 16 2072
The Warrens. Ork Town, Tir Lewyn, South Central, pockets everywhere.
Like the Combat Bike World Series, multiple gangs now vie for a a piece of the Warrens and the shining title. The elven gang coalition, the Horsemen (now being supplied hardware from the Sons), newcomers Blackboot Skins, and wild cards the Crimson Smoke and ork splinter groups all battle each other on various fronts and for various reasons.
Meanwhile the left overs of the Tusk Liberation Front, so far as any average joe is concerned, have been absorbed by the Horsemen. The new leader in hiding, their political aspirations shattered, the road to hell paved by their good intentions. What other move could they make?
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Wed Nov 21 2072
Weeks have passed since the UCAS elections without any solid answer to the central question: who will occupy the White House? But this evening that question has been answered. Colloton and Daviar conferred behind closed doors, alone. Then they met with leaders of their parties behind equally closed doors. Then the House and the Senate voted to approve their proposal.
General Angela Colloton will be the 9th president of the UCAS and the first woman elected to the position. Nadja Daviar will be sworn in as her vice president in a solution not unlike the old solution to an electoral college tie back in the days of the USA. The fact that the solution has no standing or precedent under the Constitution of the UCAS has deterred no one. The watchdogs mutter balefully on the sidelines but most of the world is just relieved to know what will come.
And what will come? Where Haeffner has been a politician and a master of the games of state, Colloton is a fighter. She favors business, of course, but that's business as usual. A bigger change will be her emphasis on military intervention and her stated goal of bringing California back into the fold. What does that mean for the Free State? For the Japanese Protectorate?
As for Daviar, the cipher remains a cipher. She played second fiddle to Dunkelzahn and then to Haeffner after him. She'll remain in her customary place. As power behind the throne? As grand vizier? As good steward? More importantly, what deal did she and Colloton hammer out between them to let rivals work together in the halls of power?
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Wed Nov 21 2072
The Warrens.
Law Enforcement puts it's foot down tonight. Fearful of more mass unrest due to the official UCAS Presidential confirmation, the two security agencies launch HTR and KE-Elite Teams to secure their respective perimeters.
Sergeant Apone with the KE 32 Precinct, Air-Ops, says a blessing before rising into the sky. His five man team sweeps across their assigned sector. A pair of air to surface rockets materialize and obliterate a four story building on the outskirts of Orktown.
»Blake! Move in! Who's firing?!«, radio's Apone.
The sleek KE helicopter throttles towards the site. Suddenly, seemingly from nowhere, a hornet shaped helicopter descends. >>Evasive Maneuvers!<<
Twin miniguns chew through the KE Helicopter's rotor, ammo on board cooks and explodes. Apone watches the world spin closer and closer. And then he blacks out. (Staff Plot)
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Wed Nov 28 2072
The Warrens.
The KE helicopter spirals down, spinning and spinning and eventually hitting the ground in a thunderous clap of destruction. The noise is heard for blocks and the acrid black smoke rises from The Sticks against a cold Denver sky. Gangers, shadowrunners, and even ghouls see opportunity of one kind or another.
Sergeant Apone awakes with a jolt, his leg shredded with metal, a gun already in his hand. He leans against the wreckage and fires his weapon into a mass of hungry Ghouls lurching through the detritus. "Get away from him you bastards!", Apone screams. "Blake! Get up" Click, click. Apone dry fires. The ghouls get closer. In the distance, a scout group of Horsemen on salvaged elven motorcycles circle crash site, probing for an opening. For the pilot, Blake, and Sgt. Apone, this is their last stand.
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Wed Nov 28 2072
UCAS District, Knight Errant Brass.
Data lines glow white hot as reports come in and internal calls are made.
Within minutes Knight Errant is already on top of rumored downed helicopter sightings in the Aurora Warrens. Instant Press Releases to News52: Criminal Gangs out of control, but crash due to pilot error. KE-HTR already en route. No need to worry folks. Internally, it's a different story.
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Wed Nov 28 2072
Warrens, The Sticks.
The calvary arrives! A quartet of shadowrunners, disparate in backgrounds, but united in a commitment to doing good when possible, materialize from Smoke's city spirit. Hideous shapes gorge themselves on dead KE officer and hiss with glee.
Rowan's Ruger Thunderbolt saves Apone, the gun ripping two ghouls apart with burps of lead. Pistolier and do-gooder Shoeshine plays with a group of ghouls and they dance for his Predator before being vanquished. Savannah, a sword at her side, surveys the mission and decides there's too much hardware available in the Helicopter. She summons the Art around her, fiery air intensifies giddily licking through missiles, ammo boxes, and dead cops.
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Wed Nov 28 2072
Rowan leads the group through the Warrens. Empty buildings, alleys, abandoned and gang scarred territory, through Fox Hollow and ultimately to Checkpoint Arapaho, CAS District. The runners leave the survivors for the last block, drifting back into the shadows. They've made a friend, one who owes them his life and the four runners have made a name for themselves.
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Wed Nov 28 2072
UCAS District, Jim's Ale House.
Street Samurai Denton gulps down his soybeer, then drops a fat credstick into the empty glass. He slides it to the man next to him, an off duty KE officer by the name of Gerold. Denton's worried about his 'nabe, Sunrise. The Street Samurai is worried The Crimson Smoke, the Tir Elves, or The Horsemen might muscle in and he might lose his pad.
Gerold says Tough Drek. The cop drops that a KE Helo went down just a few hours ago, Apone was the name of the man in charge of that operation. Gerold lets on Apone's claiming some "civilians" got him out of The Drek. Right. If you ask Gerold, which Denton is, the gang war is spreading what with all the rumored mil-spec gear getting tossed around. And it ain't the usual refurbished LAW rockets.
Meanwhile, a Crimson Smoke ganger with cred to burn overhears all this, he snaps Denton's photo with his pock secretary and texts it to his people. »Drekhead sez we weak. Put the word out« Uh, oh.
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Thu Nov 29 2072
The Warrens, Orktown.
Rex, a meta-merc who's made a name of himself in Orktown, doesn't like the sporadic potshots coming from the Tir. If we're gonna tussle, let's tussle. The man's adrenaline spikes as he circles to the northern border of Tir Llewyn, hunkering down Rex pull's the trigger on his grenade launcher. PHOOT! He arcs a dozen rounds of White Phosphorus from his grenade launcher with abandon.
The rounds bounce off walls and roll down roofs exploding a fine mist of chemical induced fire that coats anything within it's radius. A toasted Leafcutter here, a smoke shriveled dandelion there, incinerating any flesh they touch. Rex is enjoying the wanton destruction so much so, that he fails to notice as a group of Leafcutters counter-attack with a barage of steel tipped arrows. Rex's luck holds, only a single arrow manages to pierce through his right arm. It ain't too bad.
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Thu Nov 29 2072
The Warrens, Tir Territory.
Vollo's respect has increased in the Tir since helping repel the Horsmen attack on Twilight bar, so he gets a round on the house and starts asking questions. The elf doesn't buy what's going on, first the Horsemen, now The Blackboot Skins are involved? Vollo chats up a group of Leafcutters shooting the drek outside, "Null sheen chummer. This drek's all on the tuskers. You think Tir's leadership can get their hands on Seven-7 /and/ would use it? No way omae, no way. Besides, we're just defending out turf, not trying to take any…..I mean ok, maybe if the turf happens to be up for grabs but…"
Suddenly, a white phosphorus grenade rolls off the Twilights roof. Vollo dives away as flames caress his torso. Only minor burns, he'll make it. His buddies on the other hand are toast. Literally.
Two ramshackle apartment buildings, already weakened from sustained attacks from Ghost knows who, succumb to the intense fire and heat….crumbling and caving in on a ghettoized ammo dump of explosive bullets which in turn ignite like shrapnel. Fighting breaks out in tired pockets and momentarily spreads out into Sunrise.
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Thu Nov 29 2072
CAS Sector, various haunts.
Simon shuts the the world out as he concentrates on his target. He's looking for someone named Caleb, among other things, and needs to think. He runs a description by his fixer Reed, "Sounds like a guy calling himself 'The Man' at an exclusive runner mixer on Halloween. Biz and party costumes. Yea, I heard him chatting up some guy calling himself 'Austin', they talked about Cal Free State, he said he was doing 'consulting' downtown."
Simon hits the runner bars, the rumor mill More contacts, more drinks bought. Like most runners they're all selfish and aren't helping particularly one side or the other, but sources say some low level -and they mean low level- mob guys were spotted at the Bastille shuffling fugitive Connor Seale around. Now pay up.
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Thu Nov 29 2072
The Warrens, Tir Llewyn.
Once more into the fray.
It's been a long night for Savannah. First saving a KE cop and now she's making her way into the Tir just as some nut as reignited tensions. Flames dance amongst innocents attempting to find safe haven.
Savannah beckons forth an elemental, it's services used to put out fires. A tiny fairy like glowing ball leads her to a huddled mass of scared, dirty, working poor elves, the conjurer protects them, using her skills in a defensive manner. These poor people have been caught in a never ending pissing contest they never asked for or wanted.
Cut to a long view of the group, seen through a thermo enhanced 12X scope, cross hairs across Savannah's back. The first shot misses, the bullet puffing dirt near her feet. An elf child pushes the savior out of the way and takes the second shot straight through the heart. Even the best of us have blood on our hands tonight.
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Thu Nov 29 2072
The Warrens, Tir / Orktown / No Mans Land.
Doc Halo and a couple of third string runners dash in and out for a quick buck…in the name of Science! They're all spotted, someone trips a flare, but the fighting is too intense and her hired muscle is fast and strong. Two bullet ridden Horsemen and one mysteriously dead Blackboot Skin later Doc Halo has some salvageable/experimental flesh and ware to work with.
The Doctor's "interesting hobby" spreads quickly through the shadows, maybe it's bad maybe it good, but hey, who are you to judge?
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Fri Nov 30 2072
Ute Sector, The Railslums.
The Street Finds It's Own Uses. That motto never meant more than here. Daemon Starks has some high value cargo with him, namely TLF President and wanted fugitive Connor Seale. The man's hot property and Starks has the winning ticket. He and some hired goons help smuggle Connor and sneak him into a tricked out GMC Bulldog. The route to a safe house plotted, Starks guns the engine and plows through the Zocolo market. BTL Chips, Black Market cigarettes, cheap guns, and whores spill out in the trucks wake.
The Ghostriders catch a whiff - it smells like an extraction. Bikes are revved, guns are cocked, horns are honk. Oh drek. Starks twists down a tight alley, sparks fly off the side and he loses the side-view mirrors. SMG's burp explosive rounds. The GMC- windows bust/tires pop/goon blood sprays/engine blocks stutter and shimmy. Connor pops out the passenger side firing a combat shotgun, buying enough time for escape. Pulling onto Pico, then speeding on Highway 470 the Made man finally makes it to a safe location and the van's engine literally falls out.
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Fri Nov 30 2072
CAS District, Falstaff's.
Knox wants to dip his greedy finger into the information pie. he's heard tales about all this race war stuff and political backbiting from a few runners. He finagles an Op-Ed in a two bit scream sheet. He hits up his contacts, digging deeper for non-public info, but in these charged times no one's looking to do business with an ork fixer. Not with this proposition coming. Frag that noise. Knox throws his cellphone across his office and bangs his head on his desk in frustration. Shame, shame baby, shame shame.
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Fri Nov 30 2072
The Matrix, Event Horizon.
Ryan's flying through datafiles and nodes. He's digging into this Proposition the Council's set to vote on. Where is the money TRUELY coming from for it?
He digs into Soltar LLC, he puts two and two together with after following posts on the Denver Buzz and a blip about Isaiah Group. He takes a pass at their trix host, and a shiver runs down his spine and he bolts. He dumps bribes into his Government contacts. He extrapolates and calculates. He gets some of what he's looking for. He sees Nuyen signs. =Y= =Y= =Y=
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Fri Nov 30 2072
UCAS/Downtown, Franky's.
Bigman's big ass settles into barstool. He puts up a stack of corpscrip, laundered CAS dollars, and credsticks in front of tonight's bartender Tony Russo. Tony's a rumor monger extraordinaire albeit far, far down on the Mob ladder. Bigman lets Tony in on some disinformation about Isaiah Group with a six grand donation to Franky's in exchange.
"They're a Yakuza front. They're close to bankruptcy. They hate Italians. They don't respect Cordero's construction outfits, etc etc." Russo in turns spread word to soldatos in the Sucreasi Organization, who in turn put pressure on their bosses. Hey, these cats don't play ball.
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