IC: Bleeding Edge Options

[Shadow]

Ghost drops to one knee, holding his injured leg, stun baton dropping to the ground. He sits there for a moment, the shock of battle, and the flow of adrenalin coursing through him.

My god what did I do, I didn't think, I just thought he shouldn't be dead like that, oh drek, what did I do.

Ghosts age shows through as he looks around, bodies and parts cover their ground, he fights hard not to puke. He hobbles up, retrieving his baton from where it fell. He looks around again, this time in earnest, trying to separate the dead in his mind.

"Blitz," he yells out, knowing the troll is still alive, "form a party, separate the dead, search the losers for whatever we can use, Munk's boys get first dibs though."

Ghost continues to hobble through the mess, clasping his wound tightly to controls the bleeding. Then he see's him. The memory comes back quickly, a loud bang, a brush of air, the grunt of impact from behind him. Ghost stands above the body of Jake. A single tear rolls down his cheek, the kid had looked to him for protection. Ghost had saved his life only to take it away for nothing.

His hand hovered near his holstered Colt, he gripped it. His SG link engaged telling him he had 14 rounds remaining in the mag and the safety was off. I understand now Promo, why you did what you did.

Ghost drew the weapon, holding it out in front of him, the temptation and guilt overwhelming. He had killed them, murdered them. They did this because he told them something that was a lie to protect the image of his lord. And now they were gone. Dead. Deleted.

Ghost looked up, the barrel of the gun rested against his chest, directly at his heart. A moment. Two. His finger slowly squeezed the trigger. Then he stopped. No. I can do better. I have failed. But I can do better. I will not take the easy way out. I will not.

He slid the pistol into it's holster, whipped his face, and sat down next to his friend.

I will do better.

"I promise Jake, I promise."

[Digital Heroin]

When all was said and done, and the remaining Losers broke into a pannicked run, Blitzkreig stood tall. His face was a mask of stone, the red of his mask was streaked with real blood now, the blood of the fallen. Friend and enemy alike. Slow fired burned behind his eyes, the urge to give chase and rend the skin from the cowards coursed through his veigns. As he unlooped the blood slick chain from his fist, he marked each face he could see in his memory. A man should walk away from the field of battle, never run.

A small eternity later, he turned about amidst the carnage. The men that died here did so with honor; as much honor as you'll ever see in the streets. They knew what the cost of defeat was, and they fought hard. His eyes went from the fallen, to one of the still standing. His adrenal rush coursing down, Blitz began to walk; a slow methodical walk. He locked eyes with the other Troll when his approach was noticed, and he stopped a mere two feet from Munk. His face was still a mask of emotionlessness as he stared right into the other Troll's eyes, and after a pregnant pause he grabbed the older man by the wrist. Before it could be seen as an attack, he brought Munk's hand up, and with his other clasped it, a wrist to wrist shake.

`You fought well today. If ever we meet on opposite sides of this field of battle, I will remember that.`

He broke his doubled grip on the older Trog's hand now, and took two steps back.

"Blitz,"

The call came from behind him, though he kept his eyes on Munk.

"form a party, separate the dead, search the losers for whatever we can use, Munk's boys get first dibs though."

He nodded then, wether to the older Troll, or to Ghost was a mystery, and only then he turned. He silently points out several of the still breathing Edge members, and waves them to him. Time to pay proper respect to the dead, even as he picks their pocket.

[Fresno Bob]

Nick slides the brass knuckles off his hands, and drops them in his duffel bag full of guns, then recovers his M-23 and puts it back in the bag as well. Zipping the bag shut and hefting it over his shoulder, he whistles as he surveys the damage all around him. He wipes some blood of his face. Not his blood, though.

"Didn't even get hit....guess I'm a lucky one,", he thinks to himself, noticing Jake's body splattered all over the pavement, "Not like 'im." He takes a seat next to next to Jake's body, on the opposite of Ghost.

"'E was a good kid. It's a damn shame. But ey, at least we avenged Promo. He'd a liked that.", Nick says, hoping his words help Ghost more than angering him, as he's had the talent for lately.

With that, he goes off and joins Blitz.

[Tanka]

Kake sighed as he leaned on his staff. He glanced around wearily and picked himself back up. He tapped both ends of the staff on the ground and shoved the ends back in, then slid it back up his sleeve.

"Time for 'nother pyre, eh, Ghost?"

He began a hunt through the bodies for any valuables he could sell or keep, mainly weapons and ammunition. Anything he found, he kept, except the Pred III knockoff. That he casually threw over his shoulder. He glanced at Jake and Tyler and closed his eyes, muttering a quick word of hope and peace.

"'Ey, who 'ere knows a good street doc? Mebbe we can strip a few o' these guys 'ere for parts!"

He points to a Loser with some obvious 'ware sticking out of him.

[Shadow]

Ghost stands up, looks down at Jake one last time and turns to the business at hand.

"Ok people, let's get to it. I want all our people carried back to the house for the pyre. The losers I want separated by those who have 'ware and those that don't. The ones that don't we pile right here," he points in front of the Losers clubhouse, "and we light 'em up."

While he speaks he turns over the dwarf, leans down and takes the keys and cell phone. He throws the keys to Nick, "search their dos, if it's better than ours were moving in, if not, take anything you find valuable, take one of the boys with you."

He opens the cell phone and peruses the list of number in the phone book, then he dials Badger, his street doc.

"Yo Badger, I need a couple of things Omae, some healing for one, and I got some used cyberware that might make you a few bucks, 'course it's still attached to the user. But I figure a ingenious guy like yourself can work that out. Let me know when a good time is and we will load up and come buy. Thanks Omae." He hangs the phone up, and slides it into his pocket.

"Ok, let's be about it."

This post has been edited by Shadow: Nov 19 2003, 09:44 PM

[Large Mike]

The Losers doss is actually 3 apartments upstairs that have had the walls between them knocked down. Everyone had taken most of their valuables into the fight. There's really not a great deal left. The combination of the three livingrooms holds a number of dirty matresses, which show signs of people having slept on them. Half-hidden under some blankets is a Novatech Hyperdeck-6. It's obviously been ripped apart and put back together several times. There is a trid unit in one corner, and up against one wall is most of a Harley Scorpion, with the remaining parts spread about around it. (Motorcycle B/R TN# 4 will get it running again.)

Leaning in a corner, perfectly clean and unbothered by its' surroundings, is a katana. It's not the kind of katana you normally see on the street, either. It's beautifully made, and it has what appears to be gold embossed into it.

The three master bedrooms are quite different from one another. The one has a traditional king-sized bed, well kept, with new furniture. It's like someone took a lower-middle class person's bedroom and put it in the sprawl. There's not a great deal of interest, really. The next one is a cluttered but well-ordered room. There is so much stuff, most of it junk, that it seems like it's actually a small closet. The bed is *very* well made, military style, and there are several simrigs (and pieces of them) spread all over the desk... and floor... and just about every other surface. There is also a mini-fridge, containing some pizza, milk (it's not even bad) and a large package of novacoke. The last of the master bedrooms is a mattress surrounded by heaps and piles of dirty laundry, empty alcohol containers, and discarded porn.

This place is smaller than the house, and less private. It is *very* close to the pub and convenience store (both right down stairs), but other than that, there isn't anything special about this place.

[Large Mike]

Badger replies, in the gruff, grumpy sounding voice that earned him his name. "Sure. I got something to run by you, though. I have a girl that someone dropped on my doorstep. She's been fragged and fragged up. I fixed her up, and she's sleeping it off. She can't remember anything before waking up on my table. I can't really keep her here, 'cause there's no room, and I can barely afford to feed myself. So, I'll trade you healing and deal with your cyber if you take her in. Good?"

[Fresno Bob]

Nick opens up the doss and surveys everything around him. He puts the Deck and Katana in his duffel bag, then looks at the bike for a bit.

"Hey, theres a bike here. Not as good as mine, but I'd like to fix it all the same. It might take me awhile. I'll be along."

After he fixes the bike, he gives the place another once over for any guns or anything, then leaves.



(OOC: 1 success on the B/R check)

[Digital Heroin]

When he's done leading the search team, and seperating the bodies as Ghost has ordered, Blitz moves to where the gear is gathered. He takes a moment to look the things over, and taps the BTLs.

`I know a guy, who may know some people who'll take these off our hands.`

Action Jackson, usually a supplier and not a middle man, but he does know people. People Blitz could get a meet with. He gathers up the BTLs, and looks across the street, to the Losers' doss.

`I'm going to find me a new place to crash. Can't hurt having more space.`

That said, he heads off to go do a search of his own. Sure, it'd already been searched, but he may find something overlooked, or underestimated in value. When he finds the Novacoke, he adds it to the small satchel he's holding the BTLs in. The pizza he takes too, hell, he's hungry. He eventually settles on claiming one of the master bedrooms. The one with the King Size bed. Just right for a Trog who's been sleeping on a couch for a while.

[last_of_the_grea...]

As the battle fades to black, Mickey surveys the field of victory. A lot of fallen soldiers...a lot! All for a lie. Ah, well...life sure ain't no simflick! There aren't always happy endings. Still, he was on the side of the victors and none the worse for wear. He surveyed the 3 who'd made the box with him and saw they were generally allright too. Good solders. They'd followed orders well.

He joined the scrounging team, working like a machine, seaparating living and dead, dead from their goodies and fallen Losers from life. A mercy, really. Rat's would eat them while they were still living otherwise.

Cybered separated from non, though after a war like what just transpired, it probably wouldn't all be operational. Then he came across Jake. He lowered his head, shaking it a little. He'd seemed a decent sort. No chance he had at all with that wound. He gave jake a nod of his head, acknowledging his sacrifice and his value to the Bleeding Edges. "Loyal to the end, my friend."

Finally, when the battlefield was cleared, in the erea he figured was most dead center, where there was the least blood and bodies, he took out his spray cans and painted his trademark on the ground...a big R with the red circle-slash through it! Another little victory over the evil that was Renraku! They'd never get him again! He'd never suffer like that...

He stepped over to Ghost. "Job's done, field cleared and claimed. If anyone's injured, I know someone who can help, but not for free." His demeanor suddenly changes from calm professional to...tired. "That...was rough. I do hope we not have to do that again soon. Do we have enough left to hold what we have gained?"

[Large Mike]

The remaining few gather the dead in silence, including those with 'ware. There aren't enough alive to carry all the dead in one shot, so everyone makes two trips.

Once everyone is back in the house, the Edge members ate piled onto what's left of Promo's pyre, stacked with fresh wood, and lit ablaze. No one really has the energy to be sad, or angry. All anyone is really up for is sitting and staring at the fire.

It isn't long before Badger arrives. He walks right in and, seeing everyone sitting around, drops the young girl in a bundle of coat that was over his shoulder onto one of the couches.

He simply stares at the fire with everyone else, silent, until it's down to its' embers.

At that point he tends to everyones wounds. Using a combination of healing magic and a field surgeons kit, he manages everyone's cuts and bruises. When he comes to stitching up Ghost's leg, he finally say something besides "hold still" or "keep ice on it."

"I wouldn't've asked if I knew what was going on tonight, but she can't stay at my place. Maybe she could be lookout or something?"

He looks around.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you guys *do* seem a bit shorthanded."

[Shadow]

"Yeah, no problem," Ghost says to Badger as he cleans the wound. He grimaces from the pain as the shaman pokes around in the cut.

"We have some extra room, and we could use a look out," Ghost turns his head to the kitchen and hollers, "Mother, come look after this girl will you, make sure she's okay." When Badger is finished cleaning up his leg, "good work omae, thanks."

"Okay everyone, we need to get some rest tonight, so we go on two man shifts, 2 hours each. Guard duty sucks but people are going to be looking to take us out if we show the slightest sign of weakness, we have to show them were still strong." He nods at everyone, letting them know that he thinks they are still strong.

"Okay Nick, let's have it, what did you find in the place, spread it out, and let's see what we got. "

[last_of_the_grea...]

Mickey turns as the doc comes near, waving him off toward more injured Edgers. He looks over the girl that doc brought with him, though. There was no subtlety to it...merely an outright appraisal. Was she one of Them? It would be just like the corps to try and stick a spy in during a moment of weakness. He'd have to keep an eye on her...just in case. Once MOther came over, he turned his vacant gaze back to the blaze. All those Edgers...they were once Edgers. Now they weren't...

The Bleeding Edges were his all! To lose so many at once...he turned and walked away from the blaze, silently volunteering for first watch with a nod to Ghost, trudging to be on his own a little! This hurt! Did the rest of them see? He couldn't let them see! He could not allow himself to be vulnerable! Once out of sight of the mourning members, he buried his head in his hands for a moment to stifle any tears and think about the events of the day...

...It all started with Prometheus. Somehow, that damned arcology must have scarred him, weaknened his resistance to...then the Losers fighting so hard...refusing to give...then the screams! Oh the screams...how long had he screamed? The drones were merciless...and they...and they...

He shook his head. No, that wasn't today. The fight and the losses must have shaken him more than he thought! Oh, Renraku would pay! They would suffer...they would burn! Purged in beautiful, purifying fire...just like Promo...and Jake...and...

The names ran through his mind, a tear finally dropping for each. Then he gathered himself together again and set about to do his job...to protect the rest of them!

[Fresno Bob]

Nick sniffs a bit as he wheels the Scorpion out. Wishing he could help the fact that he actually feels kind of happy. He beat up a couple people, and got a new bike, to boot.

"I didn't talk to Jake much...he was an Edger though. That makes him family.", he thinks to himself. Then he spots the trash cans sitting on the roadside.

"Man, when's trash day? I haven't beaten up a garbageman in a while...", he wonder aloud.

Nick swings onto the bike, and revs it up, riding the rest of the way to the ganghouse. After he rests the Scorpion on the wall next to his Diablo, he wonders who it used to belong to.

"Ah well. Mine now. The old owner's probably dead.", he thinks, walking outside and stopping next to Mickey.

"Hey Mickey. You hungry? I'm hungry. Wanna go get some Fried Chicken, or something?", he asks.

[last_of_the_grea...]

Mickey looks at Nick and his new toy. Spoils of war. He was quiet for a few moments, then responded in his soft, calm way, his voice stoic. "Perhaps another time. I'm on duty right now. We're all on alert in case some other gang gets any ideas. The others are inside." He looks at Nick again, looking him up and down. "You seem to be in a good mood. Perhaps you might share that with the rest. A good story or two about the fallen Edgers might help them...adjust." He spoke in a clinical, straightforeward manner as he casually checked the rounds in his pistol. He chambered a round and smartlinked the safety off. Now he was ready for duty.

[Digital Heroin]

Stashing the BTLs and the NovaCoke for now, Blitz tries to get some sleep. Problem is, he's still got the blood of the fallen on him, and memories of 'metheus fresh in his mind. He understands dying just fine; he's cool with it. But he didn't expect him to go like that. He expected the old man to go out fighting. Instead some Loser had taken him out in his sleep.

After a fitful half hour or so, he growls and rolls off of the bed. Stripping off his leather jacket for the moment, he looks for something to keep him busy. He liberates the fridge from the other room, but even lugging that over is too easy to keep him from thinking. He doesn't like that, the thinking that is. You get to thinking and you worry, you worry you get paranoid, you get paranoid, and you get stupid. He'd rather let instinct guide him. So after finding some water to clean up the blood off his face, he grabs up his leather again, and checks the rounds in his Deputy. There's a pub downstairs. He's gonna go unwind, maybe bust some skulls.

It's a few minutes later, and in he walks. The pub's a Loser dive, and from the looks of the patrons, some of them haven't heard yet. There's a new hombre in town, and he's lookin' to bust skulls.

`Give me a bottle of something strong...`

[Fresno Bob]

Nick nods and says "Alright, we'll get chicken some other time, man.", then pats Mickey on the shoulder a couple times, and walks into the ganghouse, to see everyone fussing over the girl.

"Who the hell's she? What happened to her?", Nick asks, dropping his duffel bag on the ground next to him. "No, you know what? Nevermind. I don't care." Nick picks the duffel bag up again and tromps down the stairs to his bunk. Zipping open the bag, he pulls out the two treasures he liberated, then slides the bag back under his bed.

"I could give this deck to Mickey...maybe he could do something with my record in gratitude.", Nick thinks. He sets the deck next to him, then examines the Katana more. After a bit, he puts it back in the bag and hides it, deciding not to tell anyone about it for now. Nick stands up and changes his shirt, tossing the blood spattered Sex Pistols shirt into the corner with his other laundry, and goes back up, deciding to show off his tatoos and muscles. Its something he hasn't done lately. Once back up the steps Nick asks

"Hey, is anyone hungry? I'm hungry. I wanna get some fried chicken, or something. Anyone want to come?"

[Tanka]

Kake glanced over at Nick, shook his head and sighed.

"Kid, dere's a time an' place fer dat, an' I don't tink dis is it."

He took a glance at the girl, finally, after staring at the embers for so long.

"So, what, we gonna take 'er in as if she were one o' us?" He spits. "Ain't no Edger. Ain't family."

With that, he walked over to Ghost and kneeled down next to him.

"Drop 'er, man, jus' drop 'er. She gonna be high main'anence, an' we ain't got the time or money to take care o' her after all dis drek."

He looked Ghost straight in the eye, hoping to hear him voice his agreement.

[Fresno Bob]

Nick starts to get a bit mad.

"Fine Goddammit! I'll just go get some by myself!", then goes downstairs and puts on a new shirt, then his concealed Ceska, then his armored jacket. Then walks back up the stairs. He starts to go out to the garage, but stops when he hears "Drop her"

"Whoa, you mean drop her like kill her, or drop her like just kick her out? I mean, we can't kill her. We got a member gap, we lost 7 guys out there! We need all the freakin' members we can get! She could join, if she can fight."

[Tanka]

"She can't fight in dat condition, kiddo. It'll take a while ta get 'er back on 'er feet so she could fight fer us. Oh, an' I meant ta jus' boot 'er. No use killin' 'er fer no reason, ya know?"

[Fresno Bob]

Nick shrugs and says

"I can understand whar you're comin' from, man, but...people heal. All we have to do is feed her. Although she might not even make it past initiation, even after she's healed."

Then remembering

"Oh yeah, Ghost, all I found there was a Cyberdeck and some food. I'm gonna give the Deck to Mickey. He's been wanting one."

[Shadow]

"Good deal Nick, maybe he can do something with it, the way he's allways talking." Ghost wanders over to the girl, kneels down ,letting out grunt as pain shoots through his wounded leg, and try's to determine what she looks like, how old she is, race, etc. "I don't know Kake, maybe she can't fight for us, but she could assist Mother in the kitchen. I just have a feeling about her... besides, she's the price for getting our wounds mended."

[Tanka]

Kake mutters under his breath, nothing worth mentioning, just a random garble of incoherentness.

"Yeah... I guess so..."

He quickly changes topic after so obviously being shot down.

"I think I'll go help Mickey with patrol. Least I can do."

With that, he walks off to his semi to grab his shotgun. He quickly checks to make sure it's loaded properly and commences to reloading his pistol. After that he locks up the semi and heads out for some patrolling.

[Fresno Bob]

Nick looks at the girl.

"She looks pretty messed up. I've seen worse, though. Well, I'm gonna go for some food. You want me to bring you anything?", he asks Ghost.

After that, he gets on his Diablo and drives off to get some chicken.

[Large Mike]

Just then, for the first time in several days, Junkie removes himself from the bathtub. He wanders, shirtless and shoeless, a skinny ork with every sign of every addiction known to man, into the main room. Without even surveying the scene, he asks "So, anyone got anything on the stove? I smelled some overcooked meat, earlier."

He stops a minute and looks around. "Hey, what's going on, where is everyone?"

Widow, who's nursing a bottle of beer and is still wandering around with pistol in hand, points to the pyre.

Junkie looks out and sees the obvious remains of a recent Edge funeral. His eyes get hard. "Who got cacked?"

Widow goes into the list. Once she gets to Techie, his eyes get *really* hard. "I see. If anyone needs me, I'll be locked in the storage closet for a couple of days getting clean. Nobody let me out for at least three days."

With that, he gathers some food, some buckets, and a couple of porn magazines and goes into the big storage closet in the hall. Once he's there, you hear some hammering for a bit, and then nothing.