Up from the Bottom, Wipe Those Tears and Pass the Ammo Options

[adamu]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:10

All the first patch got was a moan. Wary of a trick, Smith kicked him and got no reaction, so he applied a second patch. The man's head lolled about, and finally he warily opened the one eye that was not swollen shut.

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:16
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

...betaware?... man, we're messing with some big-time guys....

When the man's eye opened, and managed to focus on him, Smith smiled, and said, "Pay attention. My friend and I have no interest in killing you - but that doesn't mean there are not horrible things we can do to you if you don't cooperate. Get it?" He was in a hurry, but Smith tried to keep his voice calm and steady. If the hostage got the idea that Smith had to dash in a couple of minute, he might try to bear through whatever could happen in that time. If he thought he was going to be here until he buckled, it might help loosen his lips.

"Who sent you here?" Smith figured he would start out with a couple of questions that he already thought he knew the answer to, in order to find out if the guy was cooperating or not.

[DireRadiant]

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:08:36
Sledge - Ripper
PAN - Hidden

<<@team (audio/visual/text::CounterStream:NoDevice)::

:: 08:08:33 :: 122 ::

:: 08:08:34 :: 121 ::

:: 08:08:35 :: 120 ::

:: 08:08:36 :: 119 ::>>

[adamu]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:25

The man tried to move his mouth, but winced as his jaw bone worked itself even farther from where it was supposed to be. He managed to mumble - "Call. Commcall. Say goodbye. Then talk."

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:28
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Smith looked at Fortunato. The request caught him off-guard, but seemed reasonable. If Smith was ever caught and being questioned by Shadowrunners, he knew he would want to make a couple last calls before they killed him... but at the same time, this could be a very daring trick. Then he remembered that Fortunato was doing some magical mojo and said he could read surface thoughts.

"What do you think?"

So as not to waste any time, Smith started typing out a message in AR. He could always decide not to let him use it, but he clearly wanted it - so having it on hand might make for a good bargaining-chip.

<<@Cerberus:: Could you bring in the human's commlink?>>

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:07:31
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato was momentarily confused when Johnson asked what he thought so early in the conversation. It was clear that Johnson had set himself up as the bad cop and that Fortunato would have to swoop in shortly to make the deal.

Then it struck him, Johnson was approaching this like a negotiation, not an interrogation. Hoping to salvage the situation he messaged at top speed:

<<@Johnson: You've set yourself up as the bad cop and for this to work you need to follow through with it. You need to go against what I'm about to recommend. Then keep asking the questions while shaking his jaw around a bit. Maybe force him to pantomime answering ones you have answers to, that'd be suitably disheartening. You could also threaten to rape his wife, but be careful with that one. It'll might have the opposite of the intended effect. I'll step in when the time is right.>>

Message Sent, Fortunato said, "He's in pain, we've got to give him what he wants."

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:43
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Smith definatly didn't expect Fortuanto's response, and the series of unanticipated moves was beginning to worry him. The advice seemed solid, Smith figured this wasn't the first time Fortunato had to rough a guy up for information before - but he wasn't sure about this 'bad cop' nonsense. It reminded him of a police-drama trid, which always seemed a little hokey and transparent. He certainly wasn't going to pretend to be interested in messing with this guy's wife. That's just not cool.

The truth of the matter was, Smith couldn't insure this guy's safety - not from his own team, the clincial staff, the mobsters outside, or whoever he would have to answer to for failing to kill Cerberus. Smith had no intention of killing the man, but he certainly couldn't garuntee how long he would live, either. It seemed to Smith that if this guy was going to die tonight, it would be the least he could do to let him use the phone to say goodbye to whoever it is he wants to call.

Must be the wife Fort mentioned.

Smith didn't have a lot of time to think about his options, and Fortunato was right about how he wouldn't get what he wants by caving in and showing compassion right away.

"No. I don't care if he's in pain. He should be thanking me that he's still alive. Did our guys get to make a call before his guys attacked? Did that dwarf get to call home before this elf over here shot him in the back of the head?" As he said it, Smith started to convince even himself.

Turning to the hostage, he spoke clearly and carefully, as he walked closer. He needed to sound mean, but didn't want to sound like a completely unreasonable asshole - even though it would probably help his interrogation. Smith prefered negotations to one-sided threats, but had spent enough time working for Franco that this wasn't the first time that he had had to pretend that he was willing to do something horrible - this was just the first time that his life wasn't on the line if the other guy didn't believe it.

Smith hoped that Fortunato's reference to the 'bad cop' meant he was planning to be 'good cop' - and that, in the end, they could work out a deal where they let this guy call home. He decided to play ball, and see where things went - he still had a little time left to give up on getting information, but leave with his self-respect intact.

"I'm not going to ask you again." He reached out and grabbed the guy by the jaw just hard enough to send waves of pain through his face - causing a great howl, and then a lot of wimpering when the act of screaming was more painful that his touch. Letting go, Smith waited to see who would make the next move - Fortunato to offer a higher-road out of this mess, or the crew-cut hit-man offering up information to save his life.

[Abbandon]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:45
Cerberus - Street Samurai
PAN - Hidden (cybereyes, earbuds)

Seeing the message Cerberus left Rocky to continue recovering. Walking out of the curtained area where Rocky was he walked back to the recovery room in the fake hallway. Digging around in his pocket he pulled the two commlinks out as he walked. Finding the one Johnson asked for he stuck the other one back into his pocket. Right before entering the room Cerberus heard a loud howl from somebody in alot of pain.

It didnt take long for Cerberus to figure out what they were doing. He walked in and saw Johnson and Fortunato standing near the cybered human. The man had two stim patches stuck to his face and if the man hadnt been trying to kill him a few minutes earlier Cerberus would have laughed outloud. He kept his cool though and walked over to Johnson and held out the commlink.

A pang of guilt went through Cerberus as he realized that this guy was probably fed some bogus lie from Loui just like he and Rocky had. He no longer wanted to see the guy being tortured or worse so he left the room. Seeing the doctor walk back out into reception he gave chase, now would be a good chance to try and et things right with him now that he wasnt fixing people.

[adamu]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:47

"Johnson was Fishbreath. Please lemme call."

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:07:53
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

When Cerberus entered and offered up the commlink, Smith nodded at Fortunato but never took his eyes off of his target. Seeing the man struggling in pain was tough - Adam wanted to help him, and he thought he probably could, but Smith couldn't afford to give up this opportunity, and Johnson certainly didn't want to lose face in front of his team. So, he stood there looking cold and deadly serious in his hoodie and jeans, staring the hostage in his one working eye - an eye which seemed to follow the man holding his commlink across the room to where Fortunato was sitting. Smith saw his expression turn from relief to dismay, when he saw he wasn't being given his call.

A moment later, Cerberus must have left, because Smith heard the door close, and through a small sputter of blood, the man managed to form a correct answer. Smith was confused for a second. Hearing the man say 'Johnson was Fishbreath' threw him off. He had gotten used to the team calling him 'Mr. Johnson' but he quickly figured out what the man meant since it fell more or less in line with what he was expecting to hear.

He wanted to say something encouraging to the man, but he was supposed to be playing 'bad cop'.

Fortunato better be a really good cop to this guy. He doesn't deserve to be treated like this. He's probably a better Runner than any of these guys.

"You'll get your phone call when I say you do - so keep talking. Who, exactly, were you sent here to kill?" As he waited for the question to register in the guys head, Smith was working on a small list of questions he wanted answered. He didn't have a lot of time, so he wanted to limit it to just a couple.

Top on his list at the moment was whether or not Louie had tipped these guys off that Cerberus had reinforcements. From the reactions he saw when they entered, Smith was pretty sure they weren't expecting anyone except the clinic staff, but if Louie was on to the fact that his three targets were ganging up and drawing in friends the job was going to get a lot deadlier fast.

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:07:54
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

The Johnson had the right idea. Fotunato feigned looking away, as if the scene pained him and messaged:

<<@Johnson: You've got him on the ropes, keep pushing.>>

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:10:30
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

For a few seconds, the man struggled to speak - but nothing intelligable came out of him. Johnson glanced over at Fortunato who nodded. Johnson hoped that meant that the poor Shadowrunner he was questioning was thinking about the answer - even if he couldn't say it.

It didn't really matter. Johnson wanted to eventually know the answer to the questions, but he doubted they would change his line of questioning at all - if anything that surprising came up, he was pretty sure Fortunato would speak up.

Without getting an answer out of his target, Johnson moved on. "Where is Louie now?... How were you guys going to let him know the job was done? How were you going to collect the payment?" He paused slightly between questions, allowing them to sink in, and intelligable thought to bubble to the surface of his mind. Each time, he waited for Fortunato to indicate, by gesture or matrix message, that Johnson could move on. After all of his questions were asked, Johnson fired up a message offering to ask anything that Fortunato wanted to know - or offering to let him ask personally.

It must have been quite confusing to the man in the chair. Some kid in scrubby clothes barking questions at him. Forming the answers was agony, but he tried anyways, because if it meant he could tell his wife goodbye, it was worth the pain. For some reason, though, the kid didn't seem to care what the answers were. Before he could moan them out, he had already moved on to some other question. It was almost like psychological torture.

Then, as abruptly as it began, it was over. They had seen whatever thoughts the man could put together requarding the questions they had. Johnson leaned in very close and said, "Listen to me carefully." His tone was much softer, but loud enough that Fortunato had no trouble overhearing. This was no longer an interrogation, it was an offer. "I'm going to let you talk to your wife - but I have to be careful. I have to protect myself, and my team. You've been cooperative, and were only doing your job. I don't see any reason that you have to die."

"But, if we leave you here. You certainly will."

"So, come with us - on our terms. I'll spare your life, and we can settle up later - but if we stay here much longer, we're all going to die. You can make your phone call in the van. What do you say?"

Despite wanting to explain the whole situation, Johnson left it at that. They were in a hurry, and he wasn't sure how long the guy was going to stay conscious. He seemed to still be alert, but Johnson needed him to stay conscious at least until he found out where he wanted to be dropped off. He wasn't entirely sure it was a good idea to so easily discount the guy - but he was in a hurry, and he definatly didn't want to condemn a man to death.

Most importantly, as a new Johnson, he could see a lot of potential use in having a professional Shadowrunner owe you a favor.

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:10:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato had to admit, the kid was pretty good at this. Johnson, after he was done pussyfooting around, started launching a barrage of questions that would have made any police interrogator proud. The guy was just struggling to keep up, which played directly into Fortunato's hands; every time crew-cut fought to come up with an answer, or even a lie, the information fell straight into the hands of his interrogators.

At a nod from Johnson, Fort strutted his stuff briefly, bringing year's of interrogation experience to try and squirrel out everything the man knew about the late Birnhauser.

Then Johnson really surprised him by making a flawless transition into a job offer. The kid was certainly blessed with a silver tongue. But the time limit was closing on their team rapidly and Fortunato didn't even know if the man would survive after the stim patches wore off. He reflected that a little diagnostic training could go a long way before refocusing on Crew-Cut's response.

[DireRadiant]

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:10:30
Sledge - Ripper
PAN - Hidden

Sledge had disdained the whole thing about the wires in the beginning. If you were going to augment, there was plenty of other useful stuff out there, like the latest brain and memory upgrades, things that would be useful all the time. Carrying around milspec ware that let you twitch your trigger finger a little faster on the incredibly rare moment you needed to shoot first was typical of the movements confrontational approach. But now her ork arms recently stained to the elbows in slick blood, brain and other fluids had been able to work maybe not quite twice as fast, but what she appreciated more was the way she could keep flipping between what her hands were doing, running scenario projections through the PM software, absorbing the clinics ARO vivisection equipment guides, and keep an eye on her agent's frequently updating sitreps.

She'd even been fast enough so that momentary inattention hadn't resulted in her slicing her own finger off when the laser scalpel had fired up.

But doing four things at once in the time it used to take two still didn't give her enough time to do everything she wanted. And no matter what nightmares it caused she wasn't going to leave money sitting on the table.

As the elevator doors were about to open on the ground floor to let the ork woman out, Sledge checked one more time that her bio sealed packages were not leaking out into the convenient grocery bag she'd co opted for the task.

<<@team (audio/visual/text::CounterStream:NoDevice)::

:: 08:10:29 :: 6 ::

Johnson is driving the Love Machine, I'm on the bike. Fortunato, you get to pick which one you want. No room for trogs on my hog.

:: 08:10:30 :: 5 ::

Is the fishbreath here for us to run over on the way out of here?>>

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:10:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

The gun in Fortunato's right pocket was creaking under the pressure he was putting on it. The trigger was grinding against the safety and the slide of the stubby hand cannon was being ground back and forth as his hand shook. He knew, in some part of his brain, that the firing range instructor would have tried to get him kicked out of the agency for this kind of safety violation, but the admiration, the brotherhood and the respect that Fortunato could feel oozing out of Rosso's godforsaken, crew-cut skull at the mention of Birnhauser was enough to override his safety training.

His other hand was steady as a rock over his ever present AR keyboard. Typing with one had was a skill he'd perfected since the advent of AR for situations almost exactly like this one. He could record with one hand and work a scalpel with the other. The keyboard hand had been recording the information spooling out of Rosso, formerly known as Crew-Cut, and periodically shipping it to Johnson.

The whole operation had run smoothly as Johnson asked his questions. Brief flashes of professional, confident operations with a fixer named Tuttle and a clear image of a slick mobster Johnson named Angelo (who had paraded across the video feed from Caittie's drone moments ago) had filtered into his brain. The plan that he and Johnson had improvised was working so well that he started tapping his foot and bouncing a little with anticipation; it felt like lifetimes since he'd last felt like he wasn't out of his league.

As a result Fort was confident when it was his turn to ask the questions. But as soon as he leaned close to the bound mercernary and, keeping with his role as a good cop, gently said "You need to tell us about Burns," he was hit by a sickening wave of positive feeling. Rosso had been in the trenches with Birnhauser and he would go to hell and back for the bald mage. Fortunato intended to send him there.

The grimace on Fortunato's face must have given away his feelings because Rosso's mind began to close like a clam. A swift backhand to the shattered jaw broke the mercerenary's focus long enough for the Fortunato's shouted question, "Where'd he live?" to cut into Rosso's brain. Fort's hand whipped back as he shouted "Who did he work with?" He got his answers.

"Enough." Johnson's voice cut through the heat of the moment. The kid was good.

It was only at that moment that Fortunato realized that his pistol was in his striking hand. He must have grabbed it by instinct; he'd pistol whipped and beaten enough people to know that he was much more effective with a club than without. The safety was off and his hand was shaking.

It hadn't stopped shaking since he'd put the safety back on and grudgingly shoved the gun into his coat pocket. Some aggravating AR Icons were blinking in Fortunato's eyes and his message feed had long since passed him by. More importantly, Johnson looked like he had something to say. It had better be good.

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

"...so, come with us - on our terms. I'll spare your life, and we can settle up later - but if we stay here much longer, we're all going to die. You can make your phone call in the van. What do you say?"

For a moment, Rosso didn't respond to his offer. Johnson could imagine the gears turning in the hardened Shadowrunner's head. Unfortunatly, due to massive injuries and recent interrogations, they were turning just a bit too slowley.

"You in, or out?" Johnson asked again, looking more towards Fortunato than Rosso. He was less interested in if Rosso said 'yes', than if he actually meant 'yes'. Fortunato seemed a bit wrapped up in his own thoughts, and his arm seemed to be shaking.

Rosso began to nod, and Fortuanto gestured in his direction. Returning his attention to whom it belonged, Johnson began to losen the man's bonds. "You'll be riding with me in your friend's van. If you have someplace you would like me to take you - let me know."

Turning to Fortunato he added, "When we get to the van, let him make his call, and if his thoughts so much as consider using this opportunity to betrey us, you have my permission to shot him." Johnson smirked from behind Rosso, where he couldn't see him, but Fortunato could.

He then began to speak to the team, as Rosso sort of fell out of his chair, then unsteadily lifted himself from the ground.

<<@Team:: "Okay, interrogation over. We're moving out. Escape plan. I figure, we can do this two ways - although I would love to hear any other ideas. The first plan, the 'car chase scene' is that we ride out of here like we have half the mob on our tails... because we will - and as soon as we're clear of the building I doubt the Bigio protection will extend very far. The team on the bike will probably have enough mobility to lose them, but that doesn't really help the team in the van survive. The van team will be going slower and we will probably need superior firepower, and a lot of luck, to hope to lose them.">>

He gathered up his things and began to leave the room, laying out the second option.

<<@Team:: "The second plan, is that we play on the fact that the moment the van peels away from here, they are probably going to mobilize their vehicles and chase us down while they shoot out our tires, or force us to crash or something. Now, I figure this van is rigged for remote operation, but correct me if I am wrong, Angel. I figure that if one of us drove it that way, from here, we could probably lure away most of the people out there who are interested in seeing us dead. By the time they realised the van was unoccupied, we could have escaped on foot, or grabbed a taxi or something. Unfortuantly, the Bigio mobsters would probably be left here to check out this building and have a chat with the doc... but we would have given up our only mode of group transportation, on a gamble that it could preoccupy our enemies for a few minutes - and we'd be left dealing with a faction of the mob that doesn't have a personal interest in seeing us dead.">>

Reaching the main room and seeing the Doc, he gestured back at the interrogation room and said, "The elf is all yours. We'll be out of your hair shortly." He then went back to speaking to the team.

<<@Team:: "Both sound dangerous, but considering some of us are wounded, and we've worn out our welcome here, I am inclined to go with the original plan - but speak up if you have any other creative solutions.">>

[Abbandon]

Clinic Exterior in a van
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Cerberus - street samurai
PAN - Hidden

Cerberus tried to think back to a time when he felt worse then he did at this very moment. None of the flu's he had suffered as a kid compared to this and none of the beating he had suffered from older kids, his "dad", or even the other people he faught professionally even compared to how he was feeling now. The hole in his arm and the one in his leg just throbbed perfectly in sync with the throbbing in his head. He was tired and had basically not had any rest in the last 24 hours. Not even the brutal attack that had changed him into this half machine half troll thing had hurt this bad.

He was thankfull for all the time he had trained his body trying to push it to the limit of physical perfection, it helped him push all the pain aside and keep going for just a little bit longer. He knew that eventually he was going to crash though and not even the spectre of death would be enough to wake him. He just hoped they could make it to safety first. Why the hell didnt the mage guy cast a freaking healing spell on him, couldnt he see he was near death?

Johnson's messages filled his eyes and ears breaking his mental lapse. Setting the sweet gun he found on the elf down on another tray he started heading for the van.

<<@team "We've got that drone right? Cant we use it to keep Loui's men at bay? I dont think we want to lose such a big resource either, I've been inside of it and even if we cant use it later it can still be stripped and sold to help fund our attack on Loui.">>

Cerberus reached the back of the van with Kyle following close by, looking down the street he could see mob soldiers climbing back into their cars. Turning back to the van he climbed in and sat opposite of Angel who appeared half asleep, Kyle climbding in afterwards and taking a seat next to Cerberus. Every time he had seen Angel in the clinic looking at him she had been staring daggers so he was glad she was out of it or atleast appeared that way. He sat there waiting for further instructions from the Johnson and hoping he didnt pick the second plan he was to tired and hurt to do anything complicated. Looking over at Kyle who looked wholey untouchd from this ordeal and seeing him looking back at him they couldnt help but burst into laughter. They both knew what kind of luck Cerberus had and this all seemed to fit perfectly. Kyle gave him a pat on the shoulder and they straightened up knowing the road ahead would be anything but smooth.

[Konsaki]

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:10
Angel – Technomancer - Hidden
PAN – Hidden

Caittie leaned to the side and rested her head against the cold metal that made up the walls and doors of the van she sat in. The open door let in a slight breeze from the west, bringing cool air into the vehicle to stave off the growing mugginess that was the damp Seattle day. As she sat there, the elf’s green eyes had a harder and harder time keeping themselves open as the seconds past.
The girl tried to stay awake, but her mind was getting fuzzy from exhaustion and she couldn’t think straight. Her head and eyelids would jerk every once in a while, her body’s natural reaction to conflicting desires of staying awake verses relaxing and rest, but her mind was on the losing end of the struggle. Even the data stream from the drone and the team’s network were working against her as it slowly changed from a rotating picture of black vehicles and worried voices of her new teammates to calming background digital white noise.

It had seemed like she had just closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall when the slight light from the door darkened and the vehicle swayed with the weight of something getting in. Even this was only able of getting Caittie to slightly open her eyes enough to barely make out a giant man as he sat across on the opposite bench. She couldn’t make out who it was, but at the second, her mind cared little except that he wasn’t bothering her as she slowly closed them again and drifted off yet again.
In her mostly asleep state, the young elf then heard some people laugh like a grand joke had been played out. Unconsiously, Angel giggled a bit and smiled slightly as her subconsious mind figured it must have been pretty funny. After a few seconds had passed, she settled back down into her rythmic breathing with her head still leaning against the wall near the back door.

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:20
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Johnson didn't have anything good to say. In fact, it was the exact opposite of what Fortunato wanted to hear. Rosso was staying alive for the moment. At least there was the fleeting chance that he'd try to escape and earn a bullet to the head.

Fortunato grunted assent to Johnson's orders and hauled Rosso to his feet by one arm. He kept his gun ready in his other hand and a close eye on the man's thoughts. As he half dragged, half carried the huge fighter out to the van he worked slowly through his message log. Seeing a question from Sledge about transportation arrangements, he replied:

<<@Team: I'm going to ride in the van. I need to play doctor and the van is too big a target to go without spell defense. Besides, Sledge is probably faster without me.>>

He'd reached the van and, in spite of his less than muscular frame, did what he could to toss Rosso into the back. He crawled into the increasingly cramped storage area and winced at the thought of patching up Cerberus. He'd spent the day running a magical marathon, and the troll bleeding in the back seat looked like climbing a mountain afterwards. Fortunato knew he'd hurt himself healing Cerberus, but he hoped he could still do some good and messaged Rocky:

<<@Rocky: How bad are you. I may be able to patch you up before I collapse.>>

It was almost too much to keep going. He was exhausted and sweating and his muscles had started cramping from the effort of holding and channeling mana. But he had a job to do. While waiting for Rocky's response he poked his head out the van door, using a seat as a support an quickly scanned astral space for mages, spirits or other threats.

[JDragon]

Clinic Interior, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:20
Rocky - physical adept
PAN: Hidden

Rocky followed the others out of the clinic as the last of them started to load up, not wanting to sit all folded up until he had to.

Seeing the message come in from Fortuanto as he was about to climb in he reads it and the climbs in.

Looking over at Fortuanto he responds directly to him seeing no reason to use the comm. "I've been better, but I think you being awake for the ride out is more important than me being at full strength. But as soon as we get some donw time, sign me up." Trying smile Rocky takes a seat and waits for the show to get on the road.

[pragma]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden

Fortunato was surprised by the troll. That was a weird enough idea that he had to stop for a second to parse it. He decided between hauling a half-conscious, half-chrome prisoner to the van and the magical protections he was weaving that missing Rocky wasn't all that unusual.

"Sure Rock, we'll take a look at it when we stop."

[BlackHat]

Clinic Interior
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:40
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

As Johnson slides himself into the driver's seat, he glances back at his team (most of them anyways) crammed into the back. As he reached for his own safety restraint, he got a big smile on his face and said, "Buckle up. This is going to be a bumpy ride." He then went about applying his trodes, and accessing the van's control system, mentally. He wasn't an ace driver - but he had at least been behind the wheel of a 4-wheeled vehicle in the last six months. He prefered the freedom (not to mention, style points) of his motorcycle, but found, yet again, that it wasn't helping him at all when he needed it. He couldn't exactly take a vehicle registered to 'Adam Lear' with him on his criminal rendezvous. He was going to need a new vehicle for this sort of thing - and maybe this van would work. It didn't have the mobility or sweetness of a topped out bike, but at least it could haul a team of banged up criminals around town in relative safety and anonymity.

Johnson was beginning to feel like one of those sitcom characters that has to admit they are growing up and trade in their badass sportscar for a minivan.

Just because I feel like a soccer-mom doesn't mean I am about to drive like one.

Johnson was excited. Things were about to get out-of-control and reckless, and for the first time all morning, he didn't feel like he needed to control everything and have a plan, and see that it went off without a hitch. He had as much of a plan as he possibly could have - and now he was going to have to leave it up to chance, and play things by ear.

[adamu]

Black Clinic
Tuesday 8/19/70 8:11:40

Taking a final look around the wreck of a reception area, Smith hefted his two briefcases, one in each hand. He was the last of their growing crew to leave the building - roughly fifteen minutes after he'd entered it.

Felt like fifteen hours.

As he stepped out, he heard the interior door shut - that was it, he knew they wouldn't readily let him back in - and he shuddered to think what was going to happen to that Indian elf.

Outside, Sledge was already astride her hog - alone - the engine purring quietly. Looking into the back of the van, he saw everyone there and in various states of disrepair. The two trolls, both suffering multiple gunshot wounds and who knew what else. Fortunato, sitting up near but not in the cab - he was covered in his own blood, though thankfully he was no longer bleeding. But he looked better than Rosso, sprawled on the floor either unconscious or dead. Angel, with no obvious wounds, was clearly sound asleep on one of the bench seats next to Rocky. He wondered how long he would be able to let her slumber. The only one not hurt was Cerberus' friend Kyle, who sat next to the green-eyed troll and appeared to be making idle chat with his friend, although Smith suspected it was calculated to keep the huge troll from falling asleep.
Smith pushed the rear doors shut with a slam and went up to the driver's door.

Before falling asleep, Angel had opened all the van's access codes to the team, which Smith now used to enter the driver's seat and fire the beast up, watching a flood of data on the vehicle's capabilities and status flood across his field of vision. He had a wide array of piloting options at his fingertips, and had not yet decided where on the spectrum of pure manual to full-VR he wanted to operate.

And there were dozens of other questions popping into his head - where to go? How to break the mob cordon? And what was Sledge up to? Not even decided what to do next himself, he obviously had not yet coordinated anything with her - was she just going to follow, or did she have something else in mind?

And then, as if he didn't have enough on his mind, he saw something on the feed from the drone -

The limo's passenger doors opened up, and --- damn, the drone made it's periodic pan around the perimeter. At least he could see that all the black SUVs surrounding them were still in place. After an eternity, the camera got back to the limo - but there were no people in sight - all the mobsters had mounted back up, apparently, but only the limo was moving. At a measured, easy speed, it pulled away from the SUVs, turned a corner about four blocks from the clinic, and was headed straight for them.

[DireRadiant]

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:40
Sledge - biker
PAN - Hidden

It reminded her of the last job.

Every time Sledge was about to jump off and head in and fetch them out, another one staggered out, or something distracted her. Tracking the trid feeds from the drone, checking the map layout against her memories of the way in, running status updates on the van and every member of the team was keeping her busy. On top of that she had run some analysis on the basic medical procedures she knew were available at the clinic and compared that against her list of home brew sticky flammables and explosives and she was fairly certain at least a decaliter or two quick burning molotovs would have taken about thirty seconds to rig. Another couple of minutes and she was fairly sure of a low power bang. Low power being relative to someone used to handling c12 and bringing down thirty story buildings. it would be enough to slow a car. And then there was the prospect of some home made smoke screen, along with road slickeners.

It was all more things to add to her list of essentials.

The only active thing she'd done was trigger the van's ARO to set the racked assault rifles and ammo bins to the standard high priority pay attention to me mode. Maybe someone in there could use it.

Though it looked just the same as Idensitech, Sledge and Johnson were going to the only ones leaving without being hurt, shocked, or otherwise without the capability to try and get away clean.

That wasn't quite true. This time Sledge wasn't carrying bleeding belly wounds from tangling with a two ton tiger.

Things were improving.

[DireRadiant]

Black Clinic, Meredith, Renton
Tuesday 8/19/70 08:11:55
Sledge - Biker Blocker
PAN - Hidden

<<@team running interference>>

Squinting slightly Sledge flicked through the series of mental commands to dim, shrink, fade, and offset the myriad of ARO feeds so she could focus on the approaching encounter. A slight twist of her wrist and the release of the clutch set her in motion the throb of the engine barely changing pitch as her hog glided away towards the oncoming vehicle.

Keeping it smooth, no tire burns nor tire chirping she boosted the speed right up until it was time to slow down. Downshifted and tapping the brakes she slowed down, keeping her hands on her handle bars visible. In response to her downshift the limo eased it's cruise, and in a synchronised bleeding of speed both vehicles eased to a stop.

Sledge kept her hands still on her grips, head turned to the side, feet spread wide for balance astride her hog.

... breathe ...

The limo window rolled down.