Shadowrun Pub
Shadowrun RPG => Role Playing => Topic started by: Ingo Monk on September 12, 2005, 12:02:02 PM
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Jimmy sits behind the counter, looking over the latest ScreamSheetTM. He wonders how often new news comes up, this is the fourth sheet in the past 20 minutes. "Must be one of life's mysteries" he things to himself as he tosses it into the NERPSTM recycler. He sips his cup of SoyCaf and wonders how he can get out of this hell-hole of a job. He went to college, got his degree, but now now one will hire him because he has no 'experience.' "How the frag am I supposed to get work experience if no one will hire me?" He shrugs and goes about checking the inventory logs while he waits for a customer. The place is only usually busy during lunch and early in the evening, and all the weirdos come in late at night. Damn, why did he take Bryan's shift tonight? He hated working the night shift.
(A man comes in wearing a black long coat and dark shades)
"Who's that? Oh, probably one of those wannabe runner types." Jimmy knew a few real runners, you can't not know them while working in a Stuffer Shack. Generally they're a nice lot, just as long as you kept your distance and didn't try to get personal information out of them. These wannabes though..they're real drek-heads. They walk around with an attitude rather than real professionalism. It's no wonder you never see the same wannabe twice.
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A sunfire yellow corvette idles quietly in the parking lot outside.
it is parked in a spot that's off to the side of the building. not in the dirrect dammage path of the streetlight.
"Dam, I hate going to new places. why did thoes punks have to burn down my regular stuffer shack? and my second alternate still has the caution tape and squadcars parked in circles arround it."
taking another moment to survay the surroundings, check the ammo in his Ruger Super-Warhawk and slipping it into the quickdraw holster in the small of his back, Ruski locks the car into 'N', and leaves the enginge running. as he opens the door, several empty bottles of 'Jolt-cola' clatter to the cold asphalt of the parking lot.
as he walks toward the lighted interior of the stuffer shack, Ruski digs into his pocket, and hits the 'arm' button on his anti-theft device for his car.
Reaching the front of the stuffer shack, he pulls out his sunglasses, and puts them on. quickly flipping through the diffrent view modes as he pauses outside the shack, pretending to take his time with the door.
ultrasonic... clear.
electromagnetic... some activity by the microwave, but nothing out of the ordanary.
thermographic... hmm... some other guy is in the back buying some hooch. make a note of that.
low light... dosn't help much. too much light.
...
"Well, let's see how low of a profile a guy wearing a black trench-coat with a skull and crossbones on the back, electric blue hair, and wearing sunglasses at night can pull off."
the EM contrast warning on the sunglasses bumps up a notch as he walks through the door. Metal Detectors.
well, i've got enough hardware i guess it's only fair that the poor sap behind the counter knows that i've got it. well, time to go make friends.
glancing at the nametag on the clerk behind the counter.
Hey uh, Jimmy? is it? I got 500Y here that says your metal detector is on the fritz. "
reaching into his other pocket, he pulls out one of the certified cred-sticks he picked up off of his last run. he got it from the J that double crossed them, so it probibly had a tracer in it. but the kid didn't need to know that. he looked down at the ballance.
"uh, how about 1,246 Y saying it didn't go off? I don't have any smaller change."
... noting the kids lack of responce, and almost lack of breathing is not a good sign.
"well, here. you hold on to this, and think about it, while i go shopping. You wouldn't happen to have any of the blue flavored Jolt-Cola in stock would you? no? I didn't think so. next time you talk to your manager bring some in. i think it'll sell well for you. "
walking away from the clerk he could see from the side mirrors on his glasses that the clerk was just looking at the cred-stick. aparently he was either afraid of it, or in disbelief that he just got his first bribe. slightly worried that he might not take it, and set off the panicbutton, ruski started a quick countdown clock on his retinal display.
give myself two minutes. just get something with caffeen, pay, and get out.
Ruski walks calmly over to the caffeen display. Nuka-cola, the best parts of caffeen and crack. Ultra-Energy-Drink, for the midnight troll, and ultra-super-sugar-rush.
*sigh* why does NERPS always gotta add sugar? my dental plan is terrible!
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*Jimmy stares at the credstick in his hands in disbelief. This was practically a month's salary for him, and all he had to do was stand there to get it. Who was this guy? He just dropped that much cred like it was nothing. Jimmy ponders for a moment, on one hand he could take the money, and edit the surviellance video so he could keep the money. On the other hand he was supposed to call the Star and save the video for them. "Hmm.."
.
.
.
.
*After about 10 seconds it's clear to him that the money is worth it, and the Star are pompous drek-heads anyway. He grins and nods at the guy with the blue hair. "He must be the real thing, he sure as heck isn't a wannabe.." He gets the video recorder and plugs in his A/V workstation into it to start editing out the blue-haired guy from the video. He had just graduated college and was still used to carrying it around with him everywhere.. perhaps it was a good thing that today he didn't remember to leave it at home.*
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Ruski Relaxed slightly as the clerk got the big 'i just won big at vegas' grin on his face. good. he was going to take it.
he reconised the editing consol the kid pulled out, as he punched up the video display and started to wipe out his digital datatrail. interesting. that was a little further than he expected. he was hoping the kid would just 'not call the cops'. if for some reason something happened later, and he got spotted, he would blend in enough with the midnight crowd not to matter. or at least that was the hope. but if this kid could edit video on the fly... that's something to take notice of.
The Midnight troll it is. this stuff always makes ya' pee funny colors, but it's better than falling asleep in the middle of a datasteal.
one minute down. one minute left to go. glancing over to the kid behind the counter happily editing away ruski smiled. perhaps he did have time to go pick up some other stuff.
"My first rigger, remote controll car, a little RC car you can drive with a datajack. 200Y that's interesting. i wonder if metsuhama ever got rid of the psycotropic IC imbeded in there? i'll have to check that out.
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*Jimmy finishes editing and copying the tape overlay and puts his workstation away. He glances around and wonders if the wannabe in the store notices the other guy. He shrugs returns to his duties as the ever-so-important Stuffer Shack clerk.*
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The door rattles a bit. You hear a few dull, metallic thuds, and some odd scratching noises. Presently, the door swings open, revealing what looks to be a human sporting a battered, dingy tin can.
A sheepish voice issues forth, tinny and mechanical, from the armored suit's voice speaker:
"Yeah... power armor is handy, but it can turn even the simplest of tasks into a pain in the keister. 'Lo, chummers."
The mystery man clanks over to the counter, and reaches up with both hands to either side of his helmet. He depresses some hidden mechanism; with a soft *shooosh*, the helmet is off, and the man places it on the counter. *Clink.*
"I saw your sign outside: 'Enjoy Nuka-Cola™. Warm and flat.'"
The man pulls out a credstick.
"How much for one of those? I haven't had a Nuka in a long time.
Oh, and hey -- the name's Zebulon. Pleased to meetcha."
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*Jimmy jumps to his feet when this man in power armor walks in. Last he knew military grade armor was illegal on the streets, and who knew what else this guy was packing. He forced a slight smile and pointed the metal man to the soda fridge. He knows he should be hitting the PANICBUTTONTM, but if this guy sees him do it he might blow him away!*
(OOC)
FYI: In SR Military Grade Armor is extremely illegal, not even corporate security is allowed to have it within city limits. Nuka-Cola doesn't exist in SR either, most food and drink are synthetic based so they are 'healthy' and don't rot your teeth and such. Though a Fallout based SR game is pretty interesting.. I'll have to remember that one!
(/OOC)
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(OOC)
I know power armor is illegal, but it's a somewhat necessary part of my persona. Also, Ruski mentoned Nuka-Cola earlier, which is why I jumped in... otherwise, I might not have had an "in". To be honest, I don't know that much detail about the Shadowrun mythos. I'm still new to the game, and haven't even run a session yet... though when I receive 4th Edition, that will certainly change. A little tolerance for a relative newb, perhaps?
(OOC)
(OOC)
>Of course it's ok! That's why I didn't delete your post ;) Hehe I didn't notice that Ruski said Nuka-Cola earlier, I misread it as Jolt Cola since I knew he likes it so much. Continue on!
>Ingo
(/OOC)
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Ruski checks his exits quick. this is going to get real bad, real fast.
droping everything but the Jolt cola ruski does a quick check for an alarm on the back door. it just leads to the stockroom, but there could be another exit from there.
magnetic sensors. well, the speakers in the 'my first boom box' should work well for that.
quietly disconnecting the speakers from the display model, and pulling out a screwdriver, Ruski starts to remove the magnets, as he hunkers down below eye level in the back of the store. being as quiet as possible he hopes that the non-combatant on the back asile has enough sense to stay down as well.
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*Jimmy ducks under the counter and puts on the armored jacket his boss had left for him. He knew it was a bad sign that he left that thing for him..*
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using the em-band in his glasses to pick out the location of the sensors ruski slaps the removed magnets into place on the stockroom door opens it, ducks inside and closes it quickly behind him.
he re-sets the retinal clock for 60 seconds. heavy armor is going to bring heavy responce.
looking arround he sees the ladder leading to roof access, and the loading ramp door. not a lot of choice there. being stuck on the roof isn't going to help when the T-birds show up. the loading ramp has a keypad lock on it. aparently they are paranoid of en-masse robberies of their merchandice.
"crap. why do all thease things have to happen to me?
well, it could be worse i guess. i could be stuck under the counter."
grabbing a fire extinguisher off of the wall it takes a couple of quick hits to knock the keypad off of it's mounting plate.
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A slow smile plays at Zebulon's lips, then vanishes just as quickly as it appeared, replaced by something different and unreadable.
"Whoa there, friend. Ho, now. If I was gonna geek ya, I reckon I already would have -- well, to be fair to you, I would have TRIED, had I a mind -- but that ain't my way. I'm just a straightforward kind of guy."
Zebulon places a gauntleted hand on his helmet, drums his fingers on the battered metal, and looks thoughtful for a moment. *Tink-tink, tink-tink.*
"I'm sure glad you haven't hit that PANICBUTTON™ yet, though. See, this here tin can is 'specially rigged to monitor my heartrate. If that heartrate comes to the end of its road, so to speak, there's a 'special surprise' built into my can which will blow half this city sky-high. And you can bet I won't be surrendering peacefully."
Zebulon sighs, looking weary.
"It simply ain't safe for me to go about unarmored, is all. Can't tell you why; unique circumstances. The local authorities know I'm here, but if you call down a heatwave, they're not going to recognize me when they come a-knocking. Then we'll all be in a bad way.
"So hey. How about a soda, and I'll be on my way. Just passing through, you understand."
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*A pointing hand rises above the edge of the counter and points towards the soda fridges.*
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Zebulon saunters over to the soda fridge. At least, it sounds like sauntering: *Clank. ... clank. ... clank. ...* He reaches over to his right gauntlet, fiddles with something, and the gauntlet cracks open with a *shiiish*. The armor sections retract into the tin can's arm pauldrons.
"Yeah, I suppose you don't want soda all over your floor, do you?"
Zebulon is greeted by an uncomfortable silence, which he ignores.
"No, I don't suppose you would."
Zebulon opens the fridge and selects an odd-looking blue soda, eyeing it critically, then nodding with satisfaction. He pops the bottle open and returns to the counter, nursing the sugary drink.
"So. You can come back out from under the counter now, if you like; cowardice does not become you. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. ...?"
Zebulon sets the soda down on the counter and extends his now-bared hand, hoping for a shake.
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*Jimmy grabs the counter and slowly raises himself from under it, the whole while staring that the walking tank in front of him. His red armored jacket has a StufferShacktm logo on the right pocket and a name tag that ways 'Jimmy' on the left side.*
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Zebulon glances at the clerk's getup, then meets his eyes and proffers a lopsided grin.
"Jimmy it is, then. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jimmy; I'm Zebulon. Zebulon Vance. But you can call me 'Zeb' for short."
Zeb keeps his hand extended a moment longer, then shrugs, and goes back to his soda. He takes a long pull, almost draining the nearly-full bottle.
"Well, I can't blame you for it. It's mighty peculiar, walking around like this, and not a little conspicuous. Don't worry, though. Lone Star will let well enough alone.
Zeb polishes off the rest of his soda, and carefully sets the empty down on the counter. He reactivates his right-hand gauntlet, and it folds back into place with a *shisssh*. He leans over, elbows coming to rest on the counter with a *chunk*... getting a bit closer to Jimmy.
"So, Jimmy... tell me, what do you think of Lone Star?"
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Jimmy gulps..hard.
"Uhhmm... " He clears his throat. "Well.. they uhh... keep the peace.. sorta..."
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Zebulon throws his head back and has a good, long laugh. There's no humor in it, though.
"I reckon it's a good thing I already drank my soda, else I'd've sprayed it all over the counter!"
"Keep the peace, eh? You really think so? We both know better than that, Jimmy. They might keep overt crime at bay, but they're as much of a menace to a SINless, or anyone they don't like, as they are to the real criminals. They're rotten apples, Jimmy, rotten to the core."
Zeb picks up his helmet and tucks it under one arm.
"There's a disease afflicting Lone Star, Jimmy. And me... well, I'm the cure. Part of it, anyway. If you think about that, you'll see why someone in my position would take a keen interest in protecting himself. Fortunately, this crazy getup has worked like a charm... so far."
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0:00:58.9
Sparks fly out of the back of the key-pad as Ruski Slams his screwdriver into the power transformer. Hot-linking the power to the yes/no circuts on the security panel wasn't nearly as impressive or skillfull as picking out the correct combination of circuts that'll give you a positive read, and when you are done, all your tools aren't melted, but it's not nearly as fast.
the lights flicker a bit as the power grounds out into the controll board, and the bay door begins it's slow accent skyward.
0:00:42.7
not waiting for the door to reach it's full apex, or even clear the two foot marker, Ruski Rolls out underneath it, falling the four feet to the truck-bay floor.
the lights inside the stockroom continue to flicker, as the screwdriver continues to emit a string of sparks not unlike a whelding iron dropping firefly like ingots of metal to the floor.
standing up and taking only a half second to get his bearings Ruski grabs the energy drinks from the floor next to the still opening bay door, and takes off arround the back alleyway, toward the side where his car is parked.
0:00:22.3
running toward his car Ruski hits the 'disarm' key on his alarm, and pulls out his keys
0:00:12.1
disarming the lock, and greatfull that the enginge is still running ruski slams his door shut, and dumps the clutch.
the squealing tires throw up a smoke screen as the car fights to find traction before launching into the street.
0:00:1.8
"Common babby common... I don't keep you arround for your gas mileage... show me why I pay 180Y to fill up a tank that lasts four days..."
0:00:08.2-
Launching down the street with his heart racing Ruski pulls down a series of alleyways before parking the car and turning off the countdown.
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Folding up the passinger seat Ruski removes his cyberdeck from it's hidden compartment.
pulling the folding satalite dish from the back seat and mounting it on the unrolled window, pointing skyward, he connects the feed from the dish into the primary access point on the Deck.
before jacking in, he also wires the proximity sensors on the car into the hitcher jack, and puts another hitcher jack port into the datajack drive port on his car. (nothing quite feels like driving from cyberspace)
Then the connection is established.
<Welcome User RuskiFace>
Heaya, what can you see in the sky tonight?
<Two Satalites in range.>
1) Fuchi's Much-Music M-Tri-D (VIN:98J23NNX12)
2) Aries Mil-Spec Weather Satalite (VIN:18EX12356)
3) Lost carrier signal (possible black-box)
I feel like a little rock n' roll tonight, let's see what I can mix up.
<Connection Attempted... Ping Rate 45... Standard carrier Protocol.>
"Welcome to your Music Paradise! Please do not attempt to copy any songs viewed on thease channels, as they are protected by ..."
<RUN Valadate_Login 7.6>
"Welcome GUEST! you have 5 Free downloads available before you must register."
<Download Routing Tables>
"Enter: Password"<RUN: SLEEZE_5.4>
<Router.TBL 1.2MP>
<RUN: Patchwork_SAN 3.2>
<Access to Matrix Granted>
Let's see if we can't find our new Stuffer Shack on here...
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<Located Stuffer-Shack (LTG:87.A94.235.7)
Okay Good. Let's see what's in stock.
"Welcome to Stuffer-Shack online! Please Choose your location?"
<Upload address>
"Make your selection from the following Menu!"
1) Place an Online-Order.
2) Check stock on your favorite stuffer-shack-sweets
3) Apply for an exciting Job!
4) Register a complaint (E-mail to: Trash@aztechnology.corp.com)
<Run Valadate_Login 7.6>
"Welcome Corperate Managment to Location 123.4J! Please Make your selection from the following Menu!"
1) Adjust Margins on items.
2) Adjust accounting records.
3) Hire / Fire / Terminate Employees.
4) Empty Complaint In-Box from this location (3,453 new messages)
5) Spy on Employees.
<5>
Let's see now... looks like that armor guy is still sitting there talking to the kid behind the counter... the alarm was aparently tripped when I spiked the bay door... Current ETA... probibly about 1.5 minutes...
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Ruski Carefully opens up his history, and pulls down the music video download menu, running a video stripper through the feed, and piping the remaning music over the store intercom.
The very latest in troll-thrash begins to play over the store's speaker systems.
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And while I'm here, I think I'll just go ahead and give our brave friend here a raise... they certanly don't pay him enough... let's see now... Hire / Fire / Terminate... let's go to hire... and i'll hire him again for ... $457 / hour. that should be enough. oh, and i'll classify it as pest controll. the amount should be about right. now to switch one of the carrier digets on the other pay-scale so he dosn't get two paychecks... that would look suspicious... Hmm... what else to do... Oh yea! Order some Jolt... the blue color.
and... where is it... USP code? I'll have to look that up...
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*The proximity sensor fed through the deck from the corvette sets off a warning light inside Ruski's virtual world*
Oh crap. I do not need this right now.
Bringing up the cars virtual-dashboard he looks at what he's up aghinst.
Inbound, range 10 yards. Speed, 10 MPH. Designation: Vehicle. Identified as Loan-Star. License Plate EJ-45NT, Checking for Vehicle's Registered Officer... McKathy, James. Lutenant, Cyberneticic Restraint Devision.
Oh crap. I REALLY do not need THIS right now.
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*a shabby looking guy in a trenchcoat comes into the stuffer shack without looking around- maybe for a meal, or maybe to get out of the rain and cold*
"Hey, do you..."
*at this point he notices the guy in heavy armor leaning against the counter, and runs like it's going out of style out the door and back into the street*
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Zebulon perks up, and cocks his head to one side. Suddenly, he snatches up his helmet, slamming it home onto the waiting socket of the tin can's collar. It seals with a *shoosssHHH*. Zeb's voice issues forth tinnily from the helmet speaker:
"Lone Star. It appears they're just cruisin' by for the time being. Still, never hurts to be safe -- getting cornered in here could be deadly... for all of us. I sure hope we're all on the same page here, Jimmy; if I go down, everyone does. So if any Lone Star goons come a'knockin, you haven't seen me."
You hear Zebulon muttering into his helmet; presumably, there's an audio pickup in there somewhere. Is he conversing with a person or persons unseen? Or is he just crazy?
Zeb strides calmly over to the back of the Shack and slips into the walk-in refrigerator.
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slamming the car into Low-1 and giving it more gas than probibly was necessary Ruski takes virtual controll over his car... the satalite link he's standing in virtually picks up some static and distortion as the LOS necessary for satalite uplink is momentarly interupted. Luckily the vehicle controlls are a drop-over menu that's locally routed, and so free from distortion. using the last moments of conectivity before the link crashes Ruski punches up some information.
<Accessing Grid-Guide Local City Maps... Locating all Patroll cars>
Run Crybaby! and get me a city map with as many back-alleyways as possible!
<Routing emergency status reports, all other officers in area are currently receving priority 1 calls in other sections of the city, their posisitions and headdings will be displayed ontop of your current streetmap.>
The Patrol car slams into the fiberglass back end of the corvette and several sensors start displaying pictures of the asphalt instead of the view dirrectly behind the car.
oh crap oh crap oh crap!
the feedback pain from bad sensors with HOT ASAST is mind-spinningly nausiating... the best way to describe it, is to imagine that two diffrent people takeing bouth of your eyeballs, and spinning them randomly in diffrent directions.
<... ERROR...<Packet Loss Terminal Connection LOST!>... **#@! ... Feedback loop interupted. ping from local hos*SCREEEEAAAACCCCCCHHHHHHH*
Sparks fly as a bump into the wall tears out the satalite feed from it's mounting point on the doorframe, and causes it to drag and bounce allong the asphalt on it's 6' extension cable behind and beside the car for several yards; before ultimatly being compleatly torn off by a post office mail box.
*CRACK*
Another bump from behind, and the feeling of shreaded fiberglass being torn up by melting rubber tires reminds Ruski that he has better things to think about than passing out from pain.
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Receving incoming Autonav commands:*****#####&%$!!... uploa@d1nGGGGLoan-Star Protocal Stop Vehicle*CANNNNNnnnnnNNNNCLE*... upload**TERMINAL LOOP***Static*AProacHHing IIInterXeccct10N!Warning! Dammage Critical. System Falure Immmmmmmmmmmammmment
Ohhh.... My aching head... I wonder how much of this is caffeen withdrawls and how much of this is feedback from the broken car and dumped matrix feed...
The Corvette continus to pull down the street; the police cruzer unable to keep up in the straightaways; corners however, were another matter alltogether.
pull away down the long streach, run a couple of lights; as soon as the cop car is a ways back; make a couple of corners... and there he is again... the front half of his car wasn't looking much better than the back of the corvette... his push bumper was mostly pushing chrome into asphalt at this point. the resulting sparks were partially melting his front tires... slowly erroding his controll ... then it happened. one blind corner too many.
the Corvette dashed down an alleyway. or what should have been an alleyway. aparently what ever was originally a drive through, became a drive-in. a couple of dumpsters and a fire escape closed down the available space to almost nothing. with what was left of the mirrors dragging on the walls, and with the gas pedal digitally pushed all the way to the floor there wasn't much to do.
*CRASH*
followed immediatly by his tailgator.
*CRASH*
...
darkness folowed.
...
_
What... is that?
_
Where am I?
_
Digital. Gotta Jack-out.
[Sssystem DuuuuUmpppp.......}}}..>>
Ruski Was laying on broken glass. the kind that hurts. staring up at a starless night. lights flickered and danced allong they red and grey stone walls that reached up into the distant sky... His head was held up at an odd angle, kept there by a cord plugged into his datajack. moving his hand to pull the plug he dully noted that it was hard to unplug it with the tension from the weight of his head, and the slipperyness of the blood wasn't helping much. finally the lock gave, and with a wet thump his head hit the asphalt.
Bright stars danced infront of his eyes. it was cold. it would be so nice to be warm. wait... wasn't something important suppose to be happening?
Forcing himself to sit up and spit out the blood in his mouth; Ruski tryed to breathe... it wasn't easy... must be a couple of cracked ribs. giving up on the sitting up, he decided to go for the safer roll over and climb up. it took longer for his sight to return to normal than it did for him to actuall make it half way up. his car had pushed through the dumpsters, at the cost of droping the enginge block onto the ground. the hood was gone. he couldn't even see where. his cyberdeck was mostly cracked in half, and a wire from the passanger compartment led from the dashboard, to the deck, to the wire he pulled from his head. well, that deck wasn't going to be hacking any more servers. beyond his car was the cop car. in only slightly better shape. the nose was burried under the back end of the corvette, the melting rubber from the rear shreaded tires dripping down into the front seats. it was at this point that Ruski discovered that he couldn't hear anything. a dull whine replaced his ability to even make out his own coughs of blood.
Why did this place look so familiar?
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The back of the stuffer shack! Ignoring his pain; Ruski Laughed, it was a soundless thing to him. He idly wondered if his ears were dammaged; or if some part of the backlash from dumpshock had somehow turned off his ability to receve information from his ears. well. while he was here; and his deck and car were ruined; he might as well make the most of it. the still spinning lights from the poliece cruzer gave an ominious light to the area. crawling up the steps was a very painfull experence. he looked at his footprints leading from the car wreck to his current posisition. bloody footprints. how Ironic. stopping to open the door from the stockroom to the main floor of the stuffer shack he had a chance to apriceate that his magnets were still in place on the emergency exit door. that should throw them for a loop when they closed off this area as a crime scene. staggering his way to the counter he grabbed a cold caffeen drink on the way, mindless of the bloody handprint he left on the refridgerator door.
as he pulles up to the counter, he sees his own reflection in the security mirror behind the clerk. blood is leaking from Ruski's eyes, ears, nose and mouth; bouth eyes are red with blood-bruzes, and broken glass and dust was still drifting from his coat like glitter from a fairy-godmother.
he was pretty sure he mumbled something like "can you open this for me", but it was hard to tell without hearing himself. he reached into his pocket with a numb hand... Hmm... $50 cash.
he dropped the wadded bills into the slowy forming puddle of blood on the counter top, and tryed to grin, realizing too late that the charm is lost when your teeth are stained with your own blood.
he tryed his best to look un-threatening, and tryed to say something that sounded like 'please'
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Kid had a legacy of wrong place- wrong time. His friends joked about it, MFI refused to talk about it, and it was the subject of more than one funny drinking story.
I mean, seriously. Chi-Town. Detroit (where they put refugees when his dad was locked down inside), getting kidnapped by a corp, them telling his mom he was dead. Getting extracted out of S-K's Kennecott Mountain Facility. Being in Seattle for the Comet, taking some time off in Denver right before Ghostwalker got there... a history of bad timing.
Hell, even he and stuffer shack had a bad reputation. They paid him 5000Y a month as part of his 'rehabilitation after he was low of funds between runs and picked up a job in the McHughs, only to witness some runners taking apart a group of gangers with thier bare hands, and then try to threaten the cops with the bloodied remains. Not like he'd never seen anything like that before, but like hell he was going to tell THEM that.
But he'd been out of the running for several months now. He had forged some credentials, and had been teaching computer science to some sixth-graders. It was a pleasant enough existence.
Walking into the Stuffer shack near his new digs was a bad idea. Something so small changed a big thing like that.
He just walked in, and seeing Ruski there, blood pouring out of... well, everywhere. Ruski was mumbling something to the clerk, who looks absolutely terrified, and was trying to decide whether to scream or faint. Ruski's trail of blood wound around to the back of the store... which didn't make any sense.
The blood pouring out of his ears spoke of some extreme dumpshock, so Kid moved into his line of sight before patting him on the shoulder.
He very slowly lipped the words "Hey Ruski! Let's get you somewhere to clean up!" and spoke clearly, not even sure Ruski would be able to hear him.
He tossed the clerk a roll of 100Y notes and said, "Do me a favor- lose the tape and clean up the blood. We were never here."
Putting his arm around Ruski, he walked him out to the Ford Americar with dealer plates outside.
-
Ruski Looked over his protage' with a bit of suprise. normally it was KV who was calling him up; looking for help. Someone needed a cellphone tracked down; or someone else needed an ID card faked... Always little footwork stuff that people were too buisy to do themselves. KV had come a long way from the near-otaku level shy kid to the guy wearing a ruffeled but stylish suit from JC Penneys and Killer-Loop sun/eye-glasses standing in front of him.
Ruski gave another smile to the clerk, forgetting too late the whole 'bloody teeth' visual that displayed.
grabbing the caffenated goodness from the counter Ruski moved to follow KV out the front of the stuffer-shack door.
It was still un-opened; but he had a feeling that this soda; could be the only good thing to happen to him all day long.
-
Kid slung Ruski's arm over his back, and half walked him, half dragged him home.
As he put the key in the locked gate outside the apartment building, he realized something. This would probably seriously mess up his life. The other tenants, the manager, maybe even that shack employee. They could all point the finger at him.
The thought lasted for as long as it took to push the old-fashioned key into the lock.
His friend was hurt, and he had some calls to make.
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Someone's got it out for me in a bad way Kid.
I've run into patrolls before, this was matrix crime devision looking for me.
I've got a lead though. Lutenant James McKathy with Loan-Star's Cyberneticic Restraint Devision. Plates on the car were: EJ-45NT.
Ruski Laughs at this. he can't hear himself laugh, but he feels the pain that the broken ribs are given him because of it.
Gotta love the cerebrial booster. helps you remember everything.
It's gotta be him. or at least his car. find out what case he's working on. and if you can find out if it was him in the car tonight that'd be good to...
Ruski isn't sure how much of his words are making sense. it's amazing how hard it is to talk with broken ribs, let alone with broken ribs, and not being able to hear yourself...
-
Ruski was mumbling something next to him... it was hard to make out with the sputtering breathing, the coughing, and the ... laughter?
Everyone who he called had the same reaction. The look on MFI's face was priceless.
"You're still alive?"
With Ruski next to him, he lined up what he needed- a clean car, a safehouse, and a street doc. Dr. Fingers would work... well, not great, but fine.
Twenty minutes later, the car was in front of the house, a black Ford Americar, and when the driver got out, he changed the plates before tossing Kid the keys. If Ruski was still conscious, he would probably crack a joke about the time Kid trashed that car on accident, driving into the lightpost during a run. Ruski always had something funny to say.
He laid the semi-conscious runner out on the back seat, and drove to the safehouse. Even before he got there, he remembered the place. There was a runner... Chopper, who moved to CalFree. It was his old place.
Kid pushed open the door with his foot, supporting Ruski's weight. Good, no other runners were squatting here at the time. It was always hell trying to convince runners on the job that you weren't from whatever corp they had just hit. Like tap dancing in a minefield, walking into a safehouse that was already taken.
He helped Ruski sit down on the couch, and looked in the fridge to see if there was anything to drink. Nothing.
He checked on Ruski, who was sputtering something... something that finally made sense. "James McKathy" was all he could make out, but that was all that he needed. Kid and most other deckers in the Seattle area knew who McKathy was- they called him "The Bulldog," someone who never let go of a lead, even if it was wrong.
If he was after Ruski, this was more dangerous than Kid had first been led to believe.
-
Ruski woke up.
He wasn't sure what exact time it was. He wasn't even really sure where he was. Glancing arround he wasn't in a trash strewen alleyway. he couldn't count the number of times he spent the night in a dumpster. running from the cops always seemed to end in that.
there weren't bars and angry men with guns asking him questions immediatly either. that was pretty much the worst way to wake up, so he wasn't as bad off as he'd been in the past.
...
Hmm... all bandaged up. and what's that... the smell of 'midnight hobo' on the wrappings. Only one streetdoc used that particular brand of cheap booze as disenfectant. Fingers.
Moving slightly Ruski checked himself.
Ouch. Okay... left arm is in a sling... no cast. must just be a bad sprain... face is covered with bandages... oh yea. the windshield. glass hurts. moreso if you land on it too...
Ruski whinced as he tryed to sit up... the ribs. oh yea. thoes were broken. there was some sort of cast/brace thing with laces holding everything tight... made it tough to breathe... but breathing with broken ribs was never a easy task in the firstplace...
then he realised it... sound. he could hear again.
there wasn't much going on in the small room he was in. there were some outdated calanders on the walls, featuring biker chicks, and the arch-typical broken tri-d with a pirated connection pushing out static in the corner.
well, that just wouldn't do.
sitting up took longer than he'd like to admit. the vertigo almost caused him to black out then and just lay back down. but laying down was never a good way to get anything done.
okay. sitting up. breath... ouch... not so fast... slow and steady wins the race...
okay... let yourself down off the couch... that's good... walk...er... how about crawl... one handed, remember that left one is out of commission... over to the Tri-D... hmm... someone was actually hacking two lines here. they split the audio from the neighbor's flat, and grabbed the sequencing for the image on the primary. cute.
wireing was a little sloppy though. there was some crossover there, that'd pick up quite a bit of static... and they didn't reverse the Content-chip on the Tri-D. most people didnt' know that you could turn parental controlls into a re-sequencer if you just clipped two of the legs and turned it arround backwards... worked most of the time anyways...
taking his time with the Tri-D, ruski finished tuning up the connection and flipped on the news.
No remote. going to have to sit here next to the thing and manually change the channel.
oh well, there were worse things in life.
"Good afternoon! The weather channel would like you to know that it's bright and shiney... in cal-free... however, seattle should expect light showers for most of<Click>"Last night a group of un-identified individuals robbed a stuffer-shack at bazooka-point..."<Click>"Officers involved in the crash were last listed as 'stable' condition. no news yet as to why the individuals were breaking into the back of a stuffer shack, but even while that information is still coming in the identys are still as yet unknown. "
Finally. some good news. Guess that kid behind the counter really did cover my tracks good. Mental note... get him something nice... wait... didn't I get him a raise already?
*chuckle*
One good turn deserves another...
-
Kid came back through the door, suprised to see Ruski up (and watching trid, no less.)
He drops a bag full of pill bottles on the counter, and unloads himself from a bunch of groceries. Nothing fancy, just your standard soy and krill-brand fare. Suddenly jumping back into the shadows could make you wonder where your next meal was coming from, so he had bought light. Oddly enough, he had also gotten them from a nearby stuffer shack.
The almost irony brought a smile to Kid's face as he loaded up the fridge with foodstuffs and drinks. Once that was done, he came over to where his mentor was watching TV.
"How are you feeling?"
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"Kid! Good to see a friendly face! what brings you back to the biz? How long have I been out? what's the word on the street? the Tri-D here says that I'm as yet un-identified, But there's someone out there that's got all sorts of wants and desires for my worthless hoop.
I was hit by a patroll, matrix crime devision; Dunno if they just stumbled on me, or had been following and I didn't notice.
I've got a lead though. Lutenant James McKathy with Loan-Star's Cyberneticic Restraint Devision. Plates on the car were: EJ-45NT. So him, or someone in his car was trying to track me down... I probibly couldn't hack a juce box right now, but if you can get into loan-star, and see who took his car out, and then check that person's case-load, perhaps we can divert their attention to the other cases... you know, solve a couple of them, and let them drop ours... it's worked before..."
Ruski stops talking as he sees the armload of food that Kid is bringing in.
"Hmm... got good eats?"
-
Kid looks over the groceries with a laugh. "No, just stuff from the stuffer shack." He sets what remains of the bags down on the table, and reaches into one bag. "I did find your favorite, though," and pulls out a blue Jolt Cola bottle.
Kid moves across the room to hands it to Ruski, glancing over his bandages to see how they're holding up. "I took you to a street doc- I hope you don't mind. I know you probably have money stashed away somewhere, but I've been working as a schoolteacher, so I don't have the padded account that I used to."
Kid double-checks the bandages, probably making sure that Fingers didn't accidently leave any special 'goodies' in the wrappings, as he is sometimes known to do.
Once he's satisfied with his inspection, he takes what's left of the chair across from Ruski and sits gingerly. "I was actually out of the life... after that whole thing with Riffalian and Blaine, I kinda dissappeared from the Shadow world. I forged some credentials, and I started working as a matrix teacher at Sammy Davis the III Public School."
As if suddenly remembering something, he gets up and goes back to the bag, and pulls his cyberdeck out. It hasn't seen use in some time, but a Fairlight Excaliber is nothing to be scorned. He sets it down near the trideo, and sets up a jackpoint. "I went and got this out of the safe deposit box I had set up... I didn't think I'd ever use it again. I guess we can look around and see if we can make things slightly more difficult for Lt. McKathy."
-
"Ohh... the blue flavor. you know me too well Kid." popping the top with his one good hand Ruski takes a swig and baskes in the refreshing tingle that only caffeen can bring.
"I appriceate the assist. I'll help you stay out of the life once I've healed up enough that I can deck without going crosseyed and dizzy. I've got a cold million I can give you straight out if you need to go someplace. Being a contact on the other side of the shadow world and tracking down Lat-Long on people's cellphones has been a good buisness for me. "
Ruski drops a line from his datajack to the hitcher point on the cyberdeck
<You still remember the LTG address for Loan-Star?>
-
Kid looks up to the corner of his eye, accessing his headware memory.
"Yeah, I have it. You sure you feel up to hitching?"
"I can sit on my thumb in the digital world just as good as I can here in the flesh... perhaps better... the RAS over-ride seems to disconnect some of the pain of physical, and lord knows I could use that. Don't worry, I won't back-seat-hack you. "
Kid makes himself more comfortable, removes the cosmetic cover of his datajack, and plugs the cable in.
Login:
-
Ruski watched as KidVid logged onto the matrix, slowly at first, and then with a burst of speed as he remembered the how and why of getting arround the Trix.
Logging into Lone-Star was no small feat for cutting edge deckers. they had a whole team of guys just arround to stop such things from happening.
<Want to use Lutenant James McKathy's sign on? They changed their format, the login names are Last, First two letters, and rank abriviation now. it might speed up the search and give us access to the right stuff if we start there.>
Kidvid started up his verification program, dumping the matrix library of encrypted passcodes into the login name. McKathyJALt brute force would certanly send up some red flags, but it worked good enough on quick and dirty runs.
Password Accepted:"RaceCarRally3, welcome to Internet Crime Devision's matrixpage. it's been 12.4 minutes sence your last logon. what would you like to do?"
-
Kid thought for a moment, and then reached out and dumped the cache from Lt. McKathy's last visit, downloading the paydata from 'Recent Cases' and 'New Information/Leads' to his deck. He glanced at the generic icon next to him, wondering if Ruski was thinking of anything else they would need from here before logging off.
-
Nah, that's a good enough place to start.
-
Kid quickly dumped the cache he had just copied, then started a worm virus what would frag the server in fifteen minutes, faking an intrusion and crashing the server.
"Well, that should keep them busy. I'm going to make something to eat, so you can stay here and sort through the paydata. Whatever we don't use, we can post to Shadowland- I'm pretty sure my credit there has run out, and if you're getting me back into this life, I'm sure I'm going to need it."
Kid walks to what's left of the kitchen, looking over the trashed culinary implements. He finally settles down, trying to fix the rice cooker and the soy processing unit.
-
"Don't worry about shadowland. You can live off of my account untill you get your feet under you. I owe you more than that, but it's a good place to start."
looking through the paydata on the screen Ruski hits the only interesting entry.
"Listen to this: He was actually off duty on the night his car was tracking me down. he was working on a number of projects, nothing that I've been involved in really... I had a little bit to do with the McMaster's case. but I just helped Brain-Freeze with the satalite hack. once he was in, that was all him tripping every warning system that aztechnology has on their data-server. I never did ask what data he was getting out of there. he didn't post any of it to shadowland. So, either he's working on me durring his free time, someone stole his car, or my guess: someone else is interested in me, and is paying him under the table to do some running of his own. I guess the only way to tell is to go visit his house. it has to be him, he wound up in the hospital after the crash, that was on the news. I don't think they'd bother to fake that. so, we gotta find out who's paying him to do reasearch in his spare time. I wonder what sort of security connection he's running? can you think of anyone else we should bring in for this?"
-
"Yeah, let me make a call, see if my buddy is home."
*waits while phone is ringing*
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"Who you calling? not Blane I hope. Him and the Camel were tied up in something last I heard anyways. "
-
"No, I heard The Camel got geeked by some insect spirits, and last I heard from Blane, he was hiding out from Mitsuhama, because they wanted to know what happened to the hi-tech weapons shipment he stole, and some of his enemies tipped them off. I was hoping to get a hold of another chummer of mine, though."
The phone rings a few more times, and finally dumps into voicemail.
With an irritated look on his face, Kid shouts into the telecom, "Pick it up, you lousy bastard! I know you're home, and you damn well don't have a girl there! Pick up!"
-
"Ahh... one of thoes kinda friends."
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"Well... yeah. His name is Gabe, but he's not picking up. I'll try calling someone else."
Kid dials the telecom a second time, letting it ring.
((This would be an opportune time for someone to jump in))
-
Hey Kid, long time no see... What's up with you lately?
===OOC===
hey, new to the forum, but I've played with kid on another one. Do I post a character sheet anywhere? Or is it just kinda free-form?
=========
Free Form will be fine. this isn't so much a run with a GM, as it's more a free-flowing story, with cast and crew jumping in to add... flavor. I'd suggest reading it from the begining, then throwing yourself into the frey. oh, and welcome aboard! -RF
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"Did you ever get that shoulder patched up? I wasnt' able to take my time with it back then. I've been wondering what you were up to lateley."
"if you're calling me, you must need some help. Lay it out for me, Kid."
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"Yeah Omae, are you busy? I'm looking for part of a physical intrusion, and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. Shouldn't be anything exciting, but I'd appreciate it if you could pack whatever you can in case trouble rears its ugly head."
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"yeah, sure, you never have crossed me bofore. how haevy is the drik you're in?"
oh well, you can talk about it when I see you. how a bout 10:00 at the aurora sidewinder? It's over in auburn, 'bout a block away from the lights. I know a guy there, we'll have a private booth.
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"Okay, I've heard of the place, but I've never been there before. I'll have a friend who'll be with us on the actual run, but is feeling a little under the weather at the moment. But I can meet you there."
I'll try and make one last call to get extra help for this one...
<<also a good place for someone else to jump in>>
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The Sidewinder's been in operation for years now. I can still remember getting Jackie set up with the place. I had a good thing going on then, decen shadow practice, and a little biz ont he side too. It beat the hell out of getting drummed out of Lone Star, and it let me stick it to them without digging my hole quite as deep as some of the people I fixed up.
anyway, Jackie's always been good about providing a quiet place to chat.
Pull up to the curb, looks like She's moving up in the world, the bouncer's got a bit of ware on him.
"hey, buddy, is Jackie-girl in tonight? Tell her uncle Gill's come around."
I breeze inside, not worrying about any detector, I don't use that stuff anyway. There's gotta be one, Jackie's not dumb, I taught her better than that.
Jackie's up at the bar, like usual. I've never known her to spend a night away from her business. and with the people she usually sees here, I don't blame her.
"hey, girl, how the life treating you? Listen, I need a bit a privacy for a chummer or two. Two drink minimum. Deal? Just send em over tot he corner booth. Oh, and gimme a scotch"
"Sure, gill, whatever you need. You ain't brought trouble around here yet that you couldn't help handle."
there's white noise generators installed in every booth, and a privacy screen to pull around if you're really paranoid. I kick back, put my feet up, and wait for the show to begin.
-
The phone rings a few more times before a deep yet quiet voice answers: "Speak."
<Edit: Character name is Tiger>
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"Hey Tiger- a friend of mine and I are putting together a party for an old friend. Nothing fancy, but there should be some fireworks. I was wondering if you were busy, or if you'd like to join us."
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The line is quiet for a moment "Of course, anything for an old friend. Slide me the details and I'll be on my way."
Tiger glides across his apartment pushing the night stand aside. He kneels down and exposes the safe under the floor, punching in a code the safe pops open exposing a small arsenal. He quickly begins grabbing a variety of rifles, smgs, pistols, grenades, then finally the missle launcher. Thinking it might be a bit extreme in this case he puts it back with a slight smile thinking back to the great memories they had together.
-
Dials Kid on his flip-up wrist phone(still not coming current to times) and waits for an answer back.
(Character) The one and only Tobias Andrion
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Hangs up after a few rings (figures he's got other things goin' on)