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Shadowrun Denver Log X000D4E-12810912-X
Slavery is People!
GM: Rip
PLayers: Rip, Croc
Overview: Rip and Croc take on a job for The Sinners gang, to retrieve some merchandice that was stolen enroute to them. It could have been a messy extraction, but for the silence of the two runners and the surprise they managed to get on the target. It could easily have turned into a bloody battle, as the targets were well armed and outnumbered the runners by more than 3 to 1. In the end they cleared them out like proffessionals and got the merchandice back to The Sinners.
Tick-Tock, tick-tock, who's afraid of a long-dead croc?
People in the warrens are. As the big troll walks sedately into the bar, people move out of his way. He's not carrying any heavy ordinance, so he's probably not here for blood… but he is walking with a purpose.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 17:52:05 2071
It may still be early, but there are certainly people here already, populating a few of the tables and keeping the girls busy on the stage. Even a few barflies at the bar itself, though one in particular seems to have garnered an open stool to either side of him as he sits with a drink in one hand, and a pocsec in the other.
And so it is, old white trench coat straining at its shoulder seam as he peruses something on that pocsec that Rip sits, an occasional twitch showing from his muscles as it reads.
Croc heads straight for the bar, his mouth set in a firm line and his eyes staring grimly ahead. In minutes, he's standing next to rip, staring down at the breeder. His corneas are a sickly yellow-green, and his face has many more wrinkles on it than it used to.
Rip either senses your presense over him or some other cue lets him know you are there without looking up. "Hoi. What brings you to this den of inequity?" He says, setting the pocsec down and turning to look up at you.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 18:01:06 2071
Croc grunts. "Joo, gringo," he says. "And joor promise of a cleenic. I need one, soon. Implants, and…" he pauses, his green-brown eyes crinkling a little bit. "And treatment."
Rip takes a moment to eye the troll over, dark circles under his own eyes as he takes in your condition. "I see. Well, I'm still short funds. Got the gear, just not the place ready yet. Need to get at least two more decent jobs in to pay for it. Hell, I'm paying for it now by having went to a cracker of a doctor. Was just planning on going to talk to him for a bit of a refund for his fuckups, if you're interested in going along. Count it towards your fees."
Croc grunts. "Si," he says. "I can put de fear of God into joor quack. Joo ready now?" He pauses, wheezing a bit. "Just need to get drek done. Maybe I punch him till he gives free treatment."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 18:10:07 2071
Rip shakes his head a bit as he pockets the pocsec. "Not just yet. Still trying to find his ass. He went to ground after I woke up and realized how much he fucked up. Until then, I got one or two things lined up to take care of the missing funds. I'll cut you in on it, and it'll get that clinic up and running that much faster."
Croc grunts, his fist clunching. "Pity. Was hoping for some fucking violen…" Cough cough, hacking cough cough. He wheezes again. "Who we doing jobs for, den?"
Rip thumbs towards the general outside area. "The gang that runs this section. Working with them to get their, heh, blessing to build the clinic." He eyes you once more as the muscles on his right arm twitch visably through his coat. "Fucked up pair we seem to be. But we should be able to accomplish it well enough even so. First bit of work is retrieval. Other is a simple smash, taking down some fight pit that's not paying its dues."
Croc grunts. "Fight pits are easy enough. Ain't got nobody in dis part of town dat can match me, and I know dat for a fact." He glances around. "Joo looking at building in Sinner territory, eh? Joo realize joor immortal soul is en danger?"
Rip snorts at that as he grabs his drink from the counter and downs it in a single gulp. "Lost that in a bet back in prison. Not much to lose now. Besides, between the pit fights and other less savory types of commerce here, makes it a perfect area for me to set up shop in."
Croc says "Reasonable. Find a spot for a good price?"
Rip nods as he stands from the stool, throwing a few corpscripts to the counter to pay for his drink. "Entire basement level of an apartment building. Bit of water damage though, so that's whats taking me so long, is getting the cash up to clean it up enough to make proper use of it." He waves to the door as he rolls his shoulders, hiding a grimace of pain behind a frown. "But since you are here, if you got the time we can go do that first offer. I was waiting to get some help with it."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 18:28:09 2071
Croc nods. "Can do eet," he says. "And who de hell joo going to get to clean it up? Most laborers stay away from dis part of town… 'do I suppose dey could be bribed wif temptations of de flesh."
Rip chuckles and shakes his head a bit. "They peddle flesh here. Both sexual and labor. Not all the things they bring in are pretty enough to be bent over and rutted like an animal. I'm sure I can talk to a few of the pit bosses in the area and get some of their resources to do the dirty work."
Croc grunts. "So even de empires of de shadows are built upon de backs of de molested masses." He frowns… and then he shrugs with a wheezing laugh. "Why should it be any different here? Let's get dis drek done, eh? I would like to kick something."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 18:37:10 2071
Rip nods slightly. "Yeah, the world revolves on the backs of the downtrodden, blah blah blah. These just happen to be molested more often than not." He smiles a little as he heads for the door. "Anyways, I've been casing the place in preparation of this job. Just another old tenament claimed by a group that has illusions of grandour." The cold night air is blast of freshness after the stale heat of the bar. "About half a dozen guys watching over the stuff we need to get back. Decently armed, so you might want to go grab your big boy toys for this one. I haven't spied anyone that looks like a mage, probably beyond their means at the moment."
Croc grunts. "Big boy toys. Got it. Big Pussy or Valiant bullet-spitter? Or should I bring de wrath of de LAW down upon dem?" He follows Rip out. "Or should I use my judgement?"
Rip chuckles a bit. "Never had an issue with your judgement before. But whatever you bring gotta be better than what I have for taking down a few guys at range. I'm more a close in kind of guy, anyways. Work with my hands and all that."
Rip gives you a place to meet up later on, outside of Mission hills by otherwise close to it. You find him waiting in the lee of a building, simply staring off into space as if nothing in the world bothered him.
Croc appears out of the darkness, disengaging his cloak of awesome. He's carrying only two weapons with him: of course, one's his panther cannon with its underbarrel grenade launcher, slung over his shoulders, and the other is a bullpup assault rifle, held lovingly in his arms. "Ready," he says, voice low and rumbly. "I assume we are free to kill them as we see fit?"
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 18:55:13 2071
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:04:14 2071
Rip pushes away from the wall as you approach, a grimace of pain crossing his face and rolling his shoulders again as if his muscles are too tight. "Yeah. If you can take them alive, we can add them to the merchandise. But I'm not to worried about it, as that strictly something on the side." He pulls his pocsec out and geastures you closer as he turns it on.
On the screen appears a dilapitated apartment building of three stories, the ground floor windows all boarded up pretty solidly. A raised stoop leads to the front door, with the image capturing two trolls standing guard on either side of. One is armed with a shotgun while the other has an actual Ares Alpha, both showing signs of cyber as chrome shows on their hands. "These two are the ones usualy out during the day. Big, obvious deterents for the locals to avoid. I've already seen them kill some hapless drunk that didn't get the hint fast enough."
The image shifts, showing a few other faces, two Orks and four more humans. "These guys are the ones I've observed coming and going. Being night time as it is now, they'll all be inside but for one loser that gets stuck freezing his nuts off outside to watch the door." The image of the building returns and does a quick flip of shots from other angles, including the sides and rear. "They got a rear door, but its one of those heavy duty plasteel ones that only open outwards and has no outside access. Never seen them use it, but doesn't mean it isn't viable if it comes down to it." He looks to you, to make sure you're catching all this.
Croc grunts. "Right. Best be careful. I can mine de back door before heading out into de front… den we have two options. We go in together, killing room to room, or joo head in and I provide cover fire."
Rip thinks on that. "Probably best not to get too seperated. I've not seen the others in action, so I have no idea of their combat capabilities. Mine that rear door to give any escapees a nasty surprise, then take that doorguard out and raid the place. While I may consider myself moderately good at it, I'm not stupid enough to think I'm a one man army." He grins a little as he nods to your personal arsonal. "But whenever you're ready, we can get moving. Its just the next block over."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:13:15 2071
Croc nods, and will step to the side, re-engaging his ruth cloak and heading around the building. He'll approach slowly and obliquely, trying to avoid any cameras or lines of sight to the building… but once he feels close enough he'll slowly move out of cover, heading for the back door, ready to set up some nasty suprises for anyone trying to escape.
Rip waits for Croc as his shimmers away into the night, watching the front entrance silently until the big trog comes back or makes a move. He takes the time to loosen up his tight muscles, working through the aches and pains they currently cause him before unlashing the sheath holding his weapon of choice, a brutally sharp bonesaw.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:31:16 2071
Croc moves like a ghost through the night, eventually reaching his target. Carefully, with gentle hands, he places the savage mine just right to optomize the kill zone, set to go off just as it opens enough to let the cone of ball bearings full access to the room…
And then Croc's slipping back to Rip's side, switching the cloak off again.
"What joo got there, Gringo? A nail file?"
Rip chuckles a bit as he pulls the saw out of its sheath, the weapons teeth gleaming the little light there is on the street. "Only if you wish to lose a hand trying to use it." He says as he looks over at Croc. "Set to go then?"
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:40:17 2071
Croc nods. "Ready to go. I almost wish I could be there to see dere faces just before dey blow up." He takes up his sabre, double-checking its loadout. "Let's kill dem all."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:49:18 2071
Rip nods a bit at that. "Ok. Feel free to take out that doorguard, and we'll storm the place like the Normans. Just check your fire once inside, might accidently hurt the product."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 19:58:19 2071
Croc grunts again, and, picking a wall for cover, pulls his assault rifle up to his shoulder. He sets his aim, braces… and then six supressed bullets lash out, focused, precise: Croc is death by any other name.
The man's armor is thick, but Croc's aim makes up the difference. The chest armor holds… holds… holds… but then it's overwhelmed, and a bullet pierces the heart, straight through. There's a gurgling sound, a small spray of blood, and the target hits the ground.
Croc lowers his gun, ejecting the spent clip and popping in a new one. "Tango down," he growls. "We advance."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 20:07:20 2071
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 20:16:21 2071
Rip gives a nod and moves forward, darting quickly across the street and to the stoop holding the still form of the dead ork. He takes just a moment to double check the body for life before he moves up to the door. He doesn't say a word, simply waiting to make sure you're in place before he steps to the side of the door and opens it up slowly.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 20:25:22 2071
Croc hurries after the breeder, also silent as the grave, assault rifle held at the ready. He isn't sure what quality of opposition he's about to face, but knows that it's lesser by one. "Ready when you are," he wheezes.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 21:01:26 2071
The door opens into near darkness. The flicker of a dying light at the far end the only thing keeping it from being a total blackout. There is no sign of anyone at the moment, though music blares from somewhere further in.
Rip creeps forward, carefully placing his feet on the floor. He reaches a junction of the hall that leads to the left and right, with the sound of the music coming from the left. He glances over to Croc and makes a 'heading that way' motion before he steps into that hallway, weapon out and ready.
«Plot» Croc says, "4/12 kp used."
Croc moves after Rip, and after a moment's shimmering, the only evidence of his passing his the shadow enveloping Rip. He follows, silently, ready to kill who he needs to.
Rip stops as he reaches a closed door, apparently the source of the music, rattling in its frame. He motions to Croc to take the other side, and prepares to move in.
Croc takes up a firing position behind Rip, ready to cover him with accurate small-arms fire. As he moves, he subvocalizes into his comm.
Commlink-Croc> Croc says, "Don't cut off their escape to the back."
Rip gives a small nod to Croc then moves to open the door, Troll thrash metal now pounding at the cheap flimsy door. He mouths a countdown to you then throws the door open…
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 21:19:28 2071
Inside the shambles of the room are the two trolls from the earlier picture. One is facing the cheap stereo and head-banging away, arms empty but shotgun close at hand. The other is floped out in a broken down recliner facing away from the door as well, assault rifle propped against the side of it.
Croc raises his gun, remembers his lesson. Kill the moving target first: trolls are hard to kill, so need to place it just right. He zeroes the crosshairs on the headbanging troll's head, and subvocalizes once before pulling the trigger.
Commlink-Croc> Croc says, "Engaging."
<
«Plot» Rip says, "Troll 1 takes S wound Plus M wound. Barely standing with 9 boxes of damage."
Croc pulls the trigger twice, short pulls: one aimed for the troll's brain, the other less focused. The troll, caught by the suprised, is nonetheless a hard target… six bullets later, he's only been weakened. Severely, and nearly killed, blood pouring from his head and torso… but not dropped yet.
Even as the trigger is being pulled, Rip is past the doorway and setting upon the relaxing troll, his lethal bonesaw flashing in the poor light as it descends at the trolls neck.
«Plot» Rip says, "Troll 2 soaks damage down to a S wound."
Rip 's blade drops quickly towards the reclining trolls neck, and it looks like it'll be a clean kill. But at the last moment the troll catches the movement from the corner of his eye and raises an arm to block the worst of the blow. But the arm only slows the dikoted saw teeth down the barest bit, laying the tough troll flesh open like a filleted fish before it clips off to nick the his neck, blood splaying everywhere from the trolls sudden movements.
«Plot» Rip says, "He's a deli."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 22:04:32 2071
Rip wastes no time striking a second time, his bonesaw coming down in a slice that finishes cutting cleanly through that arm the troll throws up to block with, passing down and digging a deep furrow into the trolls throat. The trolls breath rattles and gurgles wetly as he quickly expires, drowning in his own blood even while it pumps out of him and soaks into the broken recliner, his new permanent home.
«Plot» Rip says, "Troll 1 goes down!"
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 22:13:33 2071
Croc focuses his fire even as Rip finishes killing the other troll. His aim tightens up and he braces the gun hard, firing seven bullets into his brother in metahood…
But there was never a chance. As the troll goes down, bleeding from his stomach, chest, and back, Croc switches clips again. Always pays to be careful.
Commlink-Croc> Croc says, "Tree down."
Two dead trolls in a matter of seconds. Nothing spectacular for a pair of veteran runners. But even as the music blares takes a second to wipe his saw off on the dead troll, ridding it of the worst of the blood. He motions out the door and starts to move that way, trying to keep up the momentum.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 22:22:34 2071
Croc swivels to follow Rip, not quite bothering to check on the dead trolls. He knows they're dead. He knows they're not going anywhere. He's got work to do. Slow, measured steps, still mostly invisible.
Down the hall a door opens and out steps and ork, just barely lit by the light coming from his room. "God damn it you fuckers! I'm trying to do this slitch and you keep making more fucking noise!" He yells down the hall as he starts heading that way. His hands are empty but there is a SMG slung over his shoulder, even though he's barely wearing his pants.
Croc's gun snaps back up to his shoulder. Time to aim for center-mass and KILL.
«Plot» Rip says, "Ork goes down da hole."
There's no mercy. Croc's bullets trace from the man's lower abdomen up to between his collar bone, punching huge holes in his body and ripping apart his torso. Croc licks his lips as a bit of blood spatter reaches him all the way down the other end of the hallway.
"Pathetic," he mutters. "Four down."
Rip chuckles softly as he catches that. "Might not have needed you after all, at this rate." He says as they continue to advance, reaching the closed door the ork stepped out of and the bleeding remains that now litter the floor in an awkward sprawl. "Stairs ahead. Up or down?"
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 22:49:37 2071
Croc says "What are joo talking about?" He asks in a wheezing voice. "I'm doing nearly all de damn work myself. Up." He turns towards the stairs down, kneeling. "Cover me." His hands leaves his gun, and another claymore comes out. He spools a trip wire out, stretching two-three lines at various heights and depths, then carefully hides the mine. "Anyone comes up from below, we'll know. Sound good?"
Rip nods a bit and watchs both the stairs and the hall as you set up the mine, then starts moving up the steps as you finish. "Should only be the humans left, if we're lucky." He says as they reach the second floor landing.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 22:58:38 2071
Down the hall a door sits open, light coming out from behind it as well as the dim murmur of voices in conversation. The rest of the floor apears to be dark at the moment. The only intact door to be seen being the one lit from behind.
Croc turns to follow up the stairs, a few steps behind Rip. It's this kind of arrangement he doesn't like: his head exposed as he clears the stairs, his height still not helping him get a really clear firing pattern past the breeder. His attention swivels to the open door, and he pauses.
"Wish I had a damn gas grenade," he mutters. "Would make dis easy. Don't want to chance a mini missing in these quarters. Take dis room like we've taken de udders?"
Rip nods a bit as they both sneak up to the door. "I can't see you, so they p robably can't either…Think you can get a head count? I hear at least 3 guys in there myself." He says in a whisper.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 23:07:39 2071
Croc nods, and will approach the door, slipping past Rip, making sure his cloak covers his gun barrel, too… and suddenly he'll move on little cat feet, or the closest he can to little cat feet being a gigantic troll and neither a little cat nor a cloud of fog, and will creep, step by step, over towards the door, taking his time: not overloading the chamelon powers of his suit.
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 23:16:40 2071
There are four humans in the room, gathered around a table playing cards. All are armed in some form, from pistols at their waist or on the table to rifles sitting against the edge of the table itself. They don't seem to feel anything wrong though, as they argue over someones last bid.
Rip waits by the door, checking his own pistol just in case it's come time to use it.
Croc steps back out of the doorway and extends a hand, shaking it free of the cloak. He holds up four thick, wrinkled, craggy fingers, then points to the room before covering the hand under the cloak again.
Rip gives a nod as he appears to be in thought for a moment, motioning you back from the door as he thinks it over. "Use a grenade, if you didn't see anyone else in there. The merch must be elsewhere in the building." He whispers. "IF they survive, we go in and finish them off."
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 23:25:41 2071
Croc grunts, and slowly rearranges his weaponry. The Sabre gets slung over his shoulder, and the big ass panther cannon comes down next. He adjusts it, doubling checking its grenade loadout, making sure the blue clip is loaded, not the red. He takes a few steps back towards the stairway, measuring angles, then turns, taking a knee, levelling it at the door… aims… and then WHUMP!
«Time» The current IC time is: Wed Feb 9 23:52:44 2071
The blast resounds through the entire building, a cloud of dust blowing out the door along with some rather sharp shrapnel. But the pair of runners backed up enough to be out of the arc of that, and the walls on their side apparently hold against the blast. The guys inside aren't so lucky though, the near shot more than enough to make a serious bloody mess of all four of them. The wall the grenade hit nearest is now just a hole leading into the next room, and the rest of the apartment looks like someone let a shredder loose. All four are seriously stunned from their wounds, blindly groping for guns even as one moans out in pain.
«Time» The current IC time is: Thu Feb 10 00:01:45 2071
Rip is in through the door only a second after the blast, holding his breath to avoid breathing in the mold filled dust and setting upon the closest of the goons as they reach their assault rifle, dust coated blade slashing down quickly.
There is motion in the room as Rip rushes in, but leaderdude still has his reactions to keep him alive. He draws his pistol and takes a potshot, even as blood runs into his eyes from a multitude of cuts on his face. A pretty damn good shot too, considering his condition. But Rip is even faster and better apparently, spying the laser of the leaders weapon play across him and twirling around and away from the shot as the report of the gun pales in comparison to the explosion moments before.
«Time» The current IC time is: Thu Feb 10 00:10:46 2071
Croc spins into the room, now, shedding his cannon, shedding his cloak, and he's there in his full terrifying glory. His fighting style is wild and fluid, twisting and spinning, arms windmilling around him. The first blade slashes down across the man's chest, a shallow cut, a bleeder and a hurter, and then Croc really sets to work as he drops to a knee, driving a hand blade into the target's stomach, twsting, ripping… and then the coups-degras is a scalping cut, skittering along the skull, ripping out hair… and then he twists that blade, too, twisting it all the way around the skull and finally pulling free around the base of his jaw.
The two living goons start to panic as the runners burst into the room, as if the explosin hadn't been enough. The first good pulls his pistol and fires at Croc, hitting him solidly, then the fright on his face grows as Croc shows no sign of ever being shot.
The second goon gets hold of his assault rifle and simple holds the trigger down as he aims at Rip, spraying bullets wildly but never quite managing to get a lock on the elusive Doc.
Rip is faster than the average bear….err, Doc! Even as the bullets rain around him he dives down to the floor in a roll that brings him up under the noisy gun, bonesaw sliding upwards through the soft flesh under the humans chin, a cross-wise pull slicing through most of his neck in a single pull even as Rip pulls back to avoid the spray of blood.
«Time» The current IC time is: Thu Feb 10 00:55:51 2071
Croc looks up from the corpse of his newest kill just in time for a bullet to flatten against his chest. His mouth spreads into a snarl, and then he's on his feet. With one hand, he throws the fallen leader's face at the gunman… and then with the other he's slashing, a quick, backhanded cut right threw the throat. The pistoleer hits the ground, sputtering blood, and croc follows him to the ground, about to sink his teeth into the fallen enemy…
And then he realizes he's not alone.
Rip sighs a bit as he slowly straightens himself, getting to his feet and wiping his saw clean on the goon before putting it back into the sheath. "If you were hungry, we could have hit up a stuffershack on the way over here, you know." He says, giving it little thought as he moves over to the obvious leader and starts to pat his bloody corpse down, coming out of it with a set of old-fashioned keys.
Croc rises. "Habit. Good… press for pitfighting." He wipes his blades off on his pitfighter finery before retracting them again. "Dat's seven dead. Tink dey got any more downstairs?"
Rip shakes his head. "I don't think so. At least, I've never counted more than that coming and going. I could always be wrong, of course."
«Time» The current IC time is: Thu Feb 10 01:04:52 2071
Croc grunts. "Right," he mutters, and swaggers out to the hallway, reclaiming his guns and cloak, his pulse starting to slow back down to normal. "So is de merchandise up here? Or downstairs?"
Rip walks over to the stairwell, looking up and down and thinking on it.
Rip points downwards. "The stairs going up dont look used. So likely down in the basement. Typical, anyways. Just becareful of that mine you setup. Don't want to do all this to blow ourselves up in the process."
Croc says "It would be a gentle tickle for someone of joor skill, gringo. Or a horrible bloody death." He kicks some blood off of his clothes, and will head down the stairs, prepared to take up his explosive device. "After all, dat guy Air weathered dere blasts just fine."
«Time» The current IC time is: Thu Feb 10 01:13:53 2071
Rip chuckles a little. "I doubt I'm quite that resilant to explosions. They probably just got lucky is all." He says as they reach the first floor, pulling his pistol out and covering the hall to let you work.
Croc kneels beside the bomb, and in a few moments he has it all wound up and stashed again. "Right," he says. "Way is clear now. You first. You're smaller."
The stairway is cleared and the pair carefully make their way downstairs. There they find a makeshift cell that the keys unlock. And within are a half dozen raged but would otherwise be beautiful girls, all wearing chains and collars and the barest of rags. After a bit of hustling and cajoling, the girls are gotten onto their feet and led from the building after Rip retrieves his van, loading them all into it and heading back to Mission hills to collect their pay.
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