| Do Unto Others
Do Unto Others «Plot» Dean says, "You get a call from one of your contacts - Fixer or Decker through Dean's Fixer Slick. Street Sam or Mercenary through Dean networking, if you don't have one of the other two. If you have none of these as contacts or know a player IC, what are ya doin' here? Pose the call/meet to hear about the run. You're told you can meet Mr J at Crazy Horse Bar and Grill, Sioux FTZ." «Time» The current IC time is: Thu Apr 7 18:38:18 2071 Crowe receives his call while wandering around in the city. It's of course made over a nonencrypted channel, though in complete high-frequency tones far above a normal human's hearing range. Broadcasted over that and between words is a normal, recorded conversation that Crowe appears to be replying to. What he gleams from the higher frequency tones is the details for the meet, which he then proceeds to after closing his phone. Reyes was strolling the city as per usual, slanging dope and selling joygirls to the interested chummer. As his phone rings though he shifts his stuff to his runner before taking off in his car to the meet spot, lighting himself a stick of cigaweed on the way. Argos got the call from his fixer, just in time for him to sit down at home. At least he didn't get comfortable, and he didn't live to far from the meeting place. He gets back up, grabs his jacket and gear before moving to his bike and heading over to the bare in question, curious what this job might entail. Whiskey Slim was sitting in the Crazy Horse Bar and Grill drinking beers and eating chicken wings when he gets the call from his fixer. So Whiskey just orders some more chicken wings and waits for people to show up. «Plot» Dean says, " Inside, the Crazy Horse is barely lit by archaic-looking lamps designed to look like oil burners from days gone by. To the right, you can make out the mainstay of the establishment, a long wooden bar outfitted with wooden stools in front of it. Behind the bar are racks of shelves containing at least a hundred different bottles of alcohol, ranging from real Bourbon to synthetic alcohol. Raw country music alternates with native American music and thick smoke fills the bar creating an atmosphere of a time when the West was king. All the employees are dressed like Sioux-Squaws or male Indians and most of the share a good dose of native blood. The patrons are mixed, ranging from truckers to Indians to the standard corper looking for some adventure. The floor is covered in straw and the single most dominating feature are four totem poles at the corner of the central dancefloor. Crowe enters the Crazy Horse with a completely grave expression on his face. Clad in a pure gray corp suit with full long coat that barely conceals double jointed legs. In an unnaturally smooth way, he makes his way in and does a quick scan for the Johnson. Argos arrives in a short amount of time, getting off his bike and heading for the bar. He was here once, so he's not that familiar with the layout other then remembering the place had totem poles. So he looks around again, stopping on the troll as he vaguely recalls him, and his eyes move over the suit as well curiously. Never saw him before, but hey, always meeting new people. He's also looking around at the other numerous patrons to see if any of them might be the Johnson he's supposed to meet. Whiskey is sitting at a table eating chicken wings and waiting already cause he never left the Crazy Horse. There is a small mountain of chicken bones sitting next to him they are completly bare and many are cracked open and the marrow sucked out. Whiskey nods to people as they enter the bar if he has meet they before. Reyes arrives sooner or later, the Nissan is parked out in the parking lot and the latino thug just makes his way inside the bar and grill. Hopefully early to the meet so he can score some chicken wings of his own. A slippery pete looking norm who needs a shave gets Argos' attention, drawing him away from the baffled suit at the bar. Dean welcomes you with an roguish grin, offers a seat at his table with an extended hand when he spots you, and even stands on ceremony before you sit, offering a comradely handshake. He'll shoot the shit with you until everyone's there, just talking tourist sights, bars, and bitching about border crossings the while. He'll state in an unresponsive and unctuous tone, that we'll talk biz /only/ when we're all here and set up to go. Smoke rolls around the words, billowing carelessly out of his mouth. When you're all there, and Dean's finished his beer, he stands with a sideways nod of his head, indicating to come with him through the swinging doors into the kitchen.Squeaky-squeak, the doors push open, and Dean halts, stepping aside in deference to a positively heroic and statuesque Sioux worrior who stands arms crossed barring the back. Uzi with extended clip hanging from a thong around his neck. Behind the tattooed, shirtless worrior, there's an older Sioux dressed in denim suit with a string tie and a large magnum revolver with silver inlaid pearl handle stuck jauntily from his large buckled belt. Further back is a very young brave, maybe all of fifteen, torn jeans and pulled up hoodie. When looking closer, it looks like his eyes are slit like a sideways hourglass, and he's got distinctly serpentine features. Creepy as hell. After a whispered word to the brave - something about a tall boy, and a respectful nod to both the elder and the youngster, your path is unbarred. You're lead through the kitchen, staff staring, then studiously focusing elsewhere, then through a locked firedoor in the back, down some dank stairs, into a storage room in the basement, and finally a sub level below that. This dank, dim drek-hole of a basement reeks of mold, mildew, and rot overlaid with stale smoke and nervous sweat. Puddles on the floor grow from rank water, dripping slowly from cracks in the ceiling, from which hangs a single incandescent bulb - at a precarious angle like breathing on it wrong might cause the whole place to collapse. «Time» The current IC time is: Thu Apr 7 19:09:11 2071 Argos blinks a bit and grins as he spots Dean. Small world, running into him here. He comments once again how he looks tons better after their first meeting, though he blinks a bit later when it seems he's here for business as well. Is he here for the job or is he the Johnson they were supposed to meet though. Seeing him stand and motion to him and a few others, he moves to stand and follow the gunslinger. Seems he'll find out now at least. He glances over the injuns curiously, giving them all a friendly nod before resuming following the leader. He crinkles his nose slightly at the smell of the basement, but adjusts. Like something out of a slasher fic, just need someone tied to a chair getting beaten and the picture would be complete. Crowe follows the group down to the basement and stands amidst the others as if nothing is our of the ordinary. In fact, if you asked him if he existed, he'd probably say 'no'. So he just stands there like a character out of some cyberpunk noir fiction piece. Reyes yawns as he walks with the group, having had a long day of slanging dope. This ought to be a nice change, following the group, he'd settle near the back and cross his arms over his chest after stiffling another yawn. Whiskey greets them in sioux "Aho Matakasi" then tries to find a place to fit in the kitchen where he will mostly be out of the way and not get stuck till he can get into the basement making sure everyone else goes first just to make sure that he does not get in their way. Once he gets into the basement he takes up a position close to the stairs down by the wall where he can keep an eye on the door and everyone else *Coyote stop dat…why ju no finish ju chicken wings fore we come down…top talking wit ju mouf full…ech ju is getting hot sauce on me…top dat.* «Plot» Dean says, "If anyone wants to scan for bugs or spirits or anything else, now's the time." Once everybody's found a place they're comfortable with, be it seated at the table with him, standing by the door or wherever, Dean lays out the basic reasons for the meet. "We're her 'cause some things in this life cannot be resolved with a sunny disposition, as I like ta say. Here's the dirty - we gotta track down a scumbag Decker, beat the tar outta him, and make off with his deck. 10k a piece, 5k bonus if we get good vid of humiliatin' the toesucker." He sneers in distaste at this, continuing with less enthusiasm. "5k more each, when we drop the deck into the right hands. 5k more if 'danger pay' is warranted. No advance. So 20k if it all goes smooth like, 25k if it gets hairy. You in? Questions?" «Time» The current IC time is: Thu Apr 7 19:19:23 2071 Reyes says "Start spittin' the info." Dean fills them in to the best of his knowledge. "All I know is, target's a Decker and a drekhole who's pissed of the wrong people. We gotta put the fear into him, get the deck, and get it to another Decker. Target's name is ElectroSapien, he's holed up in the Warzone in the Warrens, in some place he's tricked out with sentry guns and claymores, word is. They say he's got gang ties with the Skins, the Blackboot Skins. The principal, who contacted my man Slick, goes by Junket. The rest is up ta us, put the ear to the ground." "Alright, roll call." Dean quips. "Me, I'm a fast handed gunner with basic sensory warez and an eye fer scammin' over shootin' holes in everythin'. Better at shootin' though. You guys? What's it you do, 'zactly?" Reyes says "Break shows and empty skulls." Reyes says ".. I also break jaws." Crowe clears his throat, glancing around with a bored gleam in his eye. "Razor. I cut people from the back or the ceiling.. I turn invisible." Freaky dude. Argos raises an eyebrow as Dean gives the 'summary' of the run. Going after a fellow Decker, hm? Well, that certainly does sound interesting. Once Reyes gets him to speak more of the subject, he frowns a bit. This Electro sounds like he's a paranoid little bugger and has himself a nice fort. "Well, I'm a Decker myself, so as long as this guy isn't insanely good, I might be able to turn his defenses against him or just disable them. I can handle a pistol alright, but combat isn't my strongest skill." "My man," Dean says, addressing the latino, "break shows? Whatsat mean?" *Why is Jimmy askin wha we do Coyote…oh him is talkin to evaone else…will ju fraggin stop getting hot sauce slober all over da place…maybe he wants us tell evraone else whats we do…ju need a wet nap?* Whiskey who has sat down indian style in the corner looks around teh room and says "Somes people calls me da Whiskey Slim an me um do magical security an medical." Reyes says "Long story.. Let's jsut get on with the job." You say "Good then, interestin' crew this time 'round." Dean looks around speculatively, to each in turn. "What say we put out some feelers? Meet back here in… two days time, midnight. Then we can put our heads together and go get this punk." He smiles, arms open to welcome any last comments before they hit the streets or the 'Trix for intel." Crowe stands in the corner of the room, standing perfectly straight with a calm expression. "He frequents purchases of explosives and sentry guns. The property is motion protected. I've discovered a way to circumvent the explosives." Argos meets back at the appointed time, looking slightly amused. When everyone else shows up, he glances around at the others and gives a nod in greetings. "Hoi guys. Well, looks like we're being hired for the ultimate flame war. I've heard of Deckers going at each other's throats with insults, but don't hear to often about a Decker taking things to the next step and hiring people to take care of the other guy. Our employer, Junket is an ork living in orktown. Seems he got humiliated royally by our target ElectroSapien. I'd actually heard the rumors about this, but didn't think this was the very job. Turns out the guy is a member of Humanis, a real sleazy bastard." "Okaaay, I got bupkus on the Skins." Dean says disappointedly, "Anybody know much about gangs?" Reyes says "Blackboots? Whatcha wanna know about 'em?" "Tell me the basics, where they operate, modus operandi, like that." Dean responds to Reyes' question, trying to put it all together. Reyes says "The blackskins are like your typical neo KKK or Nazi group. Bald heads, leathers, black colors. Easy to recognize the Twin Black Lightning bolts on a white fist. Led by Metzger.. Leon Metzger, brother to the fomrer leader. He's one cold bitch, and effective leader. Runs the place like a military. THey don't operate anywhere specific, mostly seen in the Warzone area of the Warrens." "So we ready to go find guy?" Whiskey says not really sure how they are going to get in but he is pretty sure they can dress somone up like a girl and send them in to find the guy. Argos frowns a bit as he thinks back from what little he's heard about gangs. "Well, from what I've heard since coming here, they're rather well organized. Think they have twenty big guys, and forty guys acting as the muscle and soldiers. They can get more recruits… that's about all I can recall on them." He glances over at Reyes as he explains more about them in much better detail then what his memory can drudge up. Dean says, "So what've we got altogether? Skins working with some Humanis decker in a fortress. Did we get a location? I forget." "Me an COyote sniff out place Dis guy got himself a friggin fortified apartment block behind some burnt out mall in the Warzone. Me take ju der if ju wants." Whiskey says after he gets done fiddling with things in his satchel and pulling out a bunch of grape jellies and some tortialls. Reyes gets ready with a Ruger Thunderbolt on his right hip, and a Savalette guardian on his left, steel toed boots, hard liner gloves.. A plated armor vest over some thick meshed secure clothing, along with a secure jacket. Forearm guards are concealed within the sleaves, and a big survival knife is sheathed across the back of his waist. Reyes also has a microtransceiver hooked to his belt, the subvocal mic being hidden in the collar of his jacket. Argos reaches into his armored jacket and pulls out his revolver, checking the ammo briefly before putting it back in its holster for now. His deck is slung over his back and he adjusts his jacket before looking at the others. "Well, I'm about as ready as I'll ever be. Anyone know if his host is public, or was he smart and took it off the grid?" Whiskey check his gear satchel bag full of yes, check, tomahawk, check, bigger fragging knif then you have ever seen check, Betty whiskey spins the cylinder selects a stun grenade snaps it back shut and reholsters Betty under his arm Jesus you didnt even see that thing. Then taking the keys to his bike out says "we go now?" «Plot» Dean says, "Zooming ahead to the Warzone, barring objections. Argos discovers that there is no public host to be found." The Warzone. This is the very heart of the Aurora Warrens. Once an upscale shopping district before the Treaty of Denver, it was converted to high density, low income apartment blocks after the treaty. The Warrens is an infection and the Warzone was its point of entry. First to be abandoned, it's services have broken down to nearly nothing, but it's position on the major arteries of the area continue to ensure both its strategic importance and its economic value to those who vie for it. Vast stretches of this area are utterly ruined, but still densely populated. At the very core of this infection lies the ruins of TinkerTown. Some six years after the main structures collapse, the automated defenses finally seem to be offline and the ruins settled. This has sparked renewed fighting here over what many think will be rich spoils. The group walks a few eerie blocks through the derelict warzone, eyes watching from the walls and smashed windows. The next bit starts at the broken glass door entrance to an abandoned shopping mall, which leads more or less to the target's place, the main street beside the mall is barricaded, the other side is a parking garage." Dean ambles along, eyes out, nervewires cranked and wanting to snatch the blocky pistol concealed above his right hip out so bad he can taste it. Fraggin Warrens. He jitters and bobs a bit, leaning down and popping up to see into broken out windows and over burnt out car wrecks. "This place sucks the big one." He complains, certain there are eyes on them. Greedy, desperate eyes. Like only the Warrens can produce. «Plot» Dean says, "You're currently in the abandoned mall, a couple blocks up from the target's place." Argos has his revolver out and ducks down behind one of the burnt out cars as well, hanging back a little so he's not shot at immediatly. "If I can get to the junction box on his hideout, I can splice in and take care of some of his defenses at least… might even turn them onto our side." Here's hoping that the box is out front on a pole and not guarded. Crowe looks back at the group, "I can sneak in and draw the guards out, if there are any. As well as take care of the explosives. I advise using me for recon." Reyes was the smart man just hitched a ride with someone so he wouldn't have to leave his car out in the warrens for some god forsaken Ganger to take care of. HE knew the shitty neighborhood well enough and didn't mind travelling it with a less caution than the others, but he still looked around from time to time. Whiskey pays some alley guys enough money to get them to leave teh bikes along at least for a hour or two. Then follows the others paying more attention to whats not there then whats there. Flipping his vision in and out of astral as they wander through the Warrens "Ju wan find place dat kind of safe an me scout out astral before ju go in?" «Plot» Dean says, "There are a few of them. Skinheads. The Blackboot Skins, if information is correct. There are 4 in view, probably more on the other side of the large stone stoop they're hanging around. They've got a beat up suburban parked across the street, another guy having a smoke, leaning against it." Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Heads up boys. These guys should all be magical nutsacks, so if the shaman scouts on the astral we'll go undetected." «Plot» Dean says, "Reyes is correct, looks like a pack of regular type skinheads." «Plot» Dean says, "Are you going astral to look around Whiskey?" «Plot» Whiskey Slim says, "if people agree to find somewhere safe and watch over me sure" «Plot» Argos says, " Sure, can watch your back for ya" Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "So, let's find a place to let the troll do his thing. Out of their sight would be good so they dont suspect a thing." Commlink-Slim> Whiskey Slim says, "der are two more on da udder side of da stairs." Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "How about we go back a ways into the abandoned mall, we can all set up overwatch positions while you're out." Commlink-Argos> Argos says, "Sounds good to me. Reyes, do you see any sort of junction box out in the open we can possibly get to, or will we have to do things the hard way instead?" The place is an old stone number. Corroded with time and acid rain, garbage strewn about the edges, concentrated around the stoop where the ganger's hang out while keeping an eye on the place. Buddy must be a good friend to the gang, or pay good protection money. Real good. It's two stories, main entrance hall leading in from the front door by the stoop. There are blacked out windows on the second storey, the windows on the first boarded up unnecessarily behind solid wrought iron bars. Tough nut to crack. There's the remnants of a fire escape on the back of the building. It has actually been cut off the face of the building, with an arch welder or something it looks like, judging from the scorch marks. «Plot» Dean says, "Argos, nobody has found a junction box, but there might be one around back." Crowe makes his way to the nearest, darkest, convenient alleyway out of prying eyes to activate Ruthenium and begin scaling a nearby building. Reyes sits back for now, following the group as surveillance and recon work wasn't in his job description. Letting leg boy and the shaman handle that for now. Argos hangs back as well, staying next to the troll as he's gone astral. No one seems to have found a junction box, so perhaps it about back. That might make getting to it a little more difficult depending on the guards patrolling. «Plot» Dean says, "Okay, you don't find any traps, but the roof is well covered by security cameras, and it's pretty far from the next building. You might be able to jump it with those legs, but there would be 3 cameras that focus right on you in the meantime. The ruth might be enough." «Plot» Crowe says, "What's on the roof? Any entrances?" «Plot» Dean says, "No, but the second storey windows are blacked out from the inside, no outside bars or anything." «Plot» Dean says, "Building has quite a bit of mold, ivy, and such, so you can make a roll to see through that. TN6 Whiskey." «Plot» Crowe says, "I'm going to throw a bag of marbles on the roof." «Plot» Dean says, "Are you just doing it, or was that a commlink announcement/" «Plot» Crowe says, "Doing it." Reyes is enjoying a cigarette and acting like a typical ganger, trying to act normal in this type of neighborhood so they're left alone. Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "What's the word guys, you wanna nail those punks or try to sneak in or what? We gotta get vid of socking that decker." «Plot» Whiskey Slim says, "Whiskey zips back to his body" Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Socking people is my specialty. Get me in, film me beating the shit out of him, and we're good." Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "I can access the second story windows given a moment." Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Any way in other than the gangers? Shaman should be back in a bit with some layout information." Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "So which is it? What you wanna do big guy? Decker chummer?" Commlink-Slim> Whiskey Slim says, "Da deck in da kitchen make a snacky if someone wit video go bout 5meter back from main street we should be able to see him" Commlink-Argos> Argos says, "Well, if we can't find an access point for me, my abilities are rather hampered. Most I could do is get on my bike, take a few pot shots, and then drive off as a distraction. Not to hot about that plan though." Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "Crowe, can you see a Jackpoint?" Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "Metal box under the torched fire escape. Doubt it's a jackpoint." "What the frag was that?" Crowe hears from the street, footsteps coming around the corner. «Plot» Dean says, "No explosions, or moving cameras. Whiskey, are you still astral at this point?" Crowe reaches into one of his many invisible pockets, removing the smallest pouch of marbles with a netting bag. He lets off a nice throw onto the roof of the building only to watch nothing happen but one of the guards coming down into the lone alleyway. «OOC» Whiskey Slim says, "yeah I am keeping an eye on guy" «OOC» Crowe says, "Now the question is: Can I get a surprise round of combat on him?" Argos glances around and frowns. From what he's hearing over the comms, quite a few gangsters. And no real promise of an access point for him to use to jack in. He glances over at his bike and then looks down at his revolver. Well, he could always draw their fire, let them get a chance to get into the building. He takes a deep breath and glances at Reyes. He can watch the Shaman just fine surely… He stands and runs back to where they left their bikes. Good, all the parts are still there. He gets on, starts it up and then guns it towards where the gangsters are. He takes a shot at one or two of them, not caring if he hits or not, just getting their attention and and then driving right on by fast. A decker doing a driveby, he never thought he'd do that! Blamblam! Argos' shots go off, ricocheting around like crazy. The skinheads all jump and then freak out and get to the ground. As the decker rides by them shooting like a wildman, three of them jump into the suburban and peel out after him. Reyes is still clueless as to what is going on, watching over the astral body of a troll, and just… waits. He looks at his watch, starting to wonder why he was called for this. «OOC» Dean says, "Right. 4 plus the decker. Crowe, do your thing, Reyes, need a hearing roll from ya." Crowe peaks over the side of the building just long enough to pop one of the guards with a narcoject dart. Immediately he ducks back over and talks into his comm. Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "Another guard down." The skinhead, stops, grabs at his neck, and convulses. He stares up, trying to find the source while lying on the ground. His two buddies are still staring after the crazy guy on a bike with their buddies in hot pursuit. «Plot»Segue to Whiskey, Reyes, and Dean «Auto-Judge[]» Reyes (#8436) rolls Intelligence for "hearing perception": 1 1 3 4 4 8 Whiskey, Coyote tells you 'something stinks rotten to your meat nose.' «Plot» Whiskey Slim says, "Whiskey hot foots it back to his body" Shambling forms move out of the darkness, dead, milky eyes staring blankly above ragged, drooling mouths. Tattered clothes and blackened fingernails clearly depict the inhuman conditions these…things live in. The Ghouls move to surround you with obviously hostile intentions, wielding an array of pipes, bones, and rusty knives with which to bash prey into submission and cut them up for easier feeding. WHiskey screams Reyes spares a brief glance down to the troll before grinning up at the ghouls, though he doesn't draw his pistols yet, infact he takes a sprint towards the closest one to the group, as he nears the ghoul he reaches out with both hands to grab onto the thing's head, as a foot pushes him up to launch a knee upwards in order to greet the first ghoulie who was making his way over. He could hear the loud echo as the ceramic plating of his bones crack it's jaw proper in order to send it crumbling down, he immediately shifts his attention to the others coming. The second ghoul seems too far gone to care or notice his fellow's face getting crushed in, and takes a swing at the big ganger with 'ol' rusty' the lead pipe. Whiskey opens one eye from his position on the floor Does it look like Reyes can handle the problem, well maybe but those things really do smell bad. Whiskey closes his eyes again making a bad face like ewww The ghoul coming for Reyes takes two to the sternum, spine blown out its back. Whipcrack! - as the miniature rockets smash into it. Reyes body somewhat rolls as he's caught by surprise from the Ghoul's metal pipe, a slight Oomph escapes him as he stumbles back a bit, but his focus quickly snaps back to reality as his body pivots backwards in order to to swirl his body back around towards the ghoul's head with an extended leg, his heel hitting the poor bastard square in the target, but he was tougher than his friend, because seeing him still standing after his leg was down seemed to surprise Reyes somewhat. This ghoul takes a wallop, thinks better of it, and goes running for the hills. Holding the side of his head and howling, screaming bloody murder and scampering off into the dark. Whiskey opens one eye his face briefly takes on a much sharper features and his eyes glow like light is reflecting off of them then <SLAM>the ghouls head snaps back and down he goes Whiskey opens his other eye and says "hey der guys whacha doin Reyes?" Dean adjusts fire from near his compadres, trying to track the running ghoul in the dark. There are hanging wires, and multiple obstructions in and out of the line of sight as the creature scrambles off. He takes the shot anyway. Think I winged 'im. If not Reyes lowers his fists as all the ghouls drop and the last one bails, he finally looks back to the troll and nods. "Taking care of you of course. Thanks for waking up." He offers a thumbs up on the stunbolt while rubbing his side where he got clogged. "Little fuckers can hit when they want.." «Plot»Segue back to Crowe and the gangers «Plot» Whiskey Slim says, "Whiskey collects ghoul parts for they bounty and finishes off the stunned ones" «Plot» Reyes watches the troll pick up ghoul parts inbetween games of tetrix on his pocsec, waiting for a word on the comm for when it's boogey time. Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "Guys, let's get the frag down there. I don't want to be up here with the fraggin ghouls anymore." Crowe comes out from cover, quickly and gracefully stepping up to the ledge of the building before getting target and dropping down in what some would call a leap of faith; waiting for a beloved ganger to catch him. Instead his foot meets with the face of a ganger, slamming him hard into the ground. The force of the blow knocks him clean unconscious while also tearing off part of his face. Crowe stumbles a bit from the impact but quickly and gracefully recovers before he staggers towards the next ganger, his ruthenium flickering for just a moment as a blade extends out from his right forearm. An inhuman growl escapes from his throat as if he's just a crazed killer. "Frag it!" The Ganger says before dropping his gun and darting off into the darkness, blindly towards ghoul territory. Crowe is obviously pleased with himself and he straightens up a tic before reactivating ruthenium and taking to sneaking around towards the front of the building to deal with the last chummer. Crowe ever so silently sneaks up behind the last ganger, so slowly.. before. K-chang! Crowe's blade bounces harmlessly off the ganger's armor, taking him completely by surprise! Determined this time, he strikes again a bit clumsily, though he's easily countered. Crowe quickly darts around the side of the building realizing the practice in futility this is after that horrible aching fall. Sure he took care of the gangers, but frak to hell does his organic bits hurt. After losing sight of the mook, Crowe takes cover behind some debris, letting his ruthenium catch up to him. The ganger looks around, smoking pistol in hand. What the frag just happened?! A friggin ghost just tore Eddie's face half off, Lars just friggin up and split, and Del's down up the alley. What the frag? I'm outta here, this is too fragged. Frag that decker drekhead! He turns and takes off up the road. «Plot» Whiskey Slim says, "Whiskey will cast imp invisibility on Reyes" Whiskey focuses for a second as Reyes fades out of sight "Ju go get guy funny gun things no see ju" Reyes just sort've blinks as he's turned invisible. "Coming with?" He says while unholstering his pistols and making his way down the road, knowing well that the troll could still see him. He stops a bit to look back. Dean blinks at the exchange, checking thermo too. "What the frag, let's go get this guy." He puts the pistol away, lights a smoke. Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "I've — uh. Taken care of the guards. I'm going to rest for a few minutes now.." "Me is coming" Whiskey says kind of stumbling now as he follows after Reyes not wanting to be left alone if more stinky ghoul guys show up. Whiskey keeps focusing on Dean this time watching as Dean fades away "Hey Whiskey man! What the frag?! Oh, this again." Dean accepts it with a shrug, fading out of sight as his shoulders rise. Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "Reyes, you still with me? I can't friggin find you." Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Can't find you neither man.." Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "This is fragged, let's get down there. Crowe? What's happening?" Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Already on my way, I'll wait by the door." Reyes was indeed walking down the road towards the decker's hideout, crossing what short distance he was from there. Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "We should've done this a while ago." Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "Dropped off a building onto one guy. Scared the other two guys off. Neuroject'd the last one." Commlink-Crowe> Crowe says, "I've got the spins, just need a little bit to recouperate." Commlink-Slim> Whiskey Slim says, "gud…gob…cro..we<there is some obvious strain in his voice>" Commlink-Dean> Dean says, "I say we climb in the window, frag this sentry gun biz" Whiskey leans up against a wall out of sight and out of mind looking so much like a drunken homeless troll *Frag coyote…des guys…dey gota gets…a move…on…me is going…pass out…holding all dis…god me…head hurt.* Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "Alright cool."" Dean pulls a rope and grapple from his climb kit, spins it around, and 'catchink. It lands up top, and he hauls himself up. "You coming hombre?" Reyes grabs onto the rope and nods. Dean puts an elbow through the window, hanging off the rope with one hand, and swing into the flat. He pulls a gun on the dazed decker. "You chose the wrong guy to frag with, omae. We gotta get dirty here." «OOC» Dean says, "Come on up and beat him up, Reyes." Reyes makes his way up the the window, crawling inthe best he can without hindering Dean, and with a slight pop his neck he approaches the hacker to sock him a good one. The decker, totally agape, "What the frag? Who's there?! What the frag?!" Reyes just walks straight up the man, not really bothering with detours of fancy footwork or anything. Waiting for the camera to start rolling he'd begin beating the fool, the first was kick straight on the temple in order to soften the fellow up, but as he's about to fall, the latino catches him by the collar and begins laying a few good hardlined fists in just to be sure he gets the point. Dean remembers to vid it at the last second, pulls out his pocsec, and flips on the camera. "Get the deck, 'nother 5k per we bring the deck." Dean says, looking around for it. There it is, on the counter. Reyes makes sure to give the camera a good show, lots of the ragdoll hacker hitting walls and getting hit by SOMETHING. Though at the phrase, he just drops the limp fellow and makes his way towards the counter in order to grab his deck and make his way towards the window. Remembering Reyes says "Got it." «Plot» Dean says, "Something's off with the deck. Remembering that this guy likes explosives, Reyes can feel that the deck's awfully heavy…" Commlink-Reyes> Reyes says, "This shit is kinda heavy for a deck though.." "What the frag is this? Put that thing back down omae, something's not right here." Dean comes over, staring at the deck in the gangbanger's hands. "Lemme get this." He pulls out a little kit from his courier bag, and moves in to inspect it more closely. Reyes lays it down where indicated, letting the man step in to do his part. Taking a deep breath, "Frag, that coulda gone badly." Dean's hands, shaking more than usual, light a cigarette. "Let's amscray and get paid, compadre." Mewling and bleeding on the floor, ElectroSapien comes to for a second and tries to growl out, but it comes off more as pathetic - "You fraggers. You're all gonna die. I'll see you torn to shreds you fucks!" Whatever. Punk ass . Too late. Reyes walks over to the guy in order to sock to turn his lights out once all clear, he'd make for the window, GTFO and get paid. «Plot» Dean says, "Alright, skipping back out of the Warzone." «Plot» Dean says, "Having done the deed and gotten the deck, everyone makes their way back to the vehicles, and then the drop, which is in The Big House. In Orktown. Dean mentioned that telling the guys at the door 'we're here with something for Junket' and showing the deck ought to be enough, but…" Junket, a young Ork, reaches for the deck with wonder in his eyes. "And da vid? Ya smashed his dumb fraggin' Humanis ass?" Eyes wide with excitement at the prospect. How'd this kid get all the cash to swing the payment on this? Then, it becomes clearer. He's toting a Renraku Kraftwerk 8 on a sling. Decals proudly proclaiming it a solid deck with a rep. Looks like the casing's been cut out in places to add arcane looking mods only another bithead would understand. Decker, and probably not just a weefle runner either. «Plot» Dean says, "You show the vid, get paid, Argos and Crowe both here." Dean takes the credsticks, stuffs the handful into an inside zip pocket. "Nice doin' business with ya kid. Anytime, you call me, hear?" Once they're safely tucked away, he reaches into the opposite side pocket, fishing out a crumpled paper pack of smokes. Nabs his zippo from that little pocket that comes on the inside of the right pocket of sturdy pants, 'Dem Bones' in gothic script above tumbling dice showing snake eyes. He taps one out, offers it to the kid, lighting one for himself after. "Done deal." He walks off, nodding to each before turning his back and exiting into the rainy night. Not a good night for biking. He looks up into the night sky, squinting at the rain, flips up his collar and clasps it shut with one hand. His cigarette's already starting to smolder in the little raindrops. |
Do Unto Others
page revision: 6, last edited: 13 May 2011 21:11
