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[Ingo Monk]

Jimmy sits behind the counter, looking over the latest ScreamSheet^TM.  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 NERPS^TM 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.

[Ruski]

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!

[Ingo Monk]

*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.*

[Ruski]

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.

[Ingo Monk]

*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.*

[Pimp-Boy 2000]

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."

[Ingo Monk]

*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 PANICBUTTON^TM, 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)

[Pimp-Boy 2000]

(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)

[Ruski]

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.

[Ingo Monk]

*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..*

[Ruski]

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.

[Pimp-Boy 2000]

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."

[Ingo Monk]

*A pointing hand rises above the edge of the counter and points towards the soda fridges.*

[Pimp-Boy 2000]

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.

[Ingo Monk]

*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 StufferShack^tm logo on the right pocket and a name tag that ways 'Jimmy' on the left side.*