Caracas: Hole in the Heart, Recruitment Thread Options

[Abschalten]

I wanted to pop in and give a status report.

I am furiously busy coming up with hooks and seeds for the story. When we kick this thing off all of you are going to be strangers to each other with no idea that any of the others even exist. You are all going to start off solo, and through the story I will begin drawing you all together. We won't jump straight into missions or runs this way, but it will allow for some character development and shine time. You all have reasons for being in this town. Some of you are here with grudges, others to escape something or someone. Some of you can't leave, or just don't have anywhere else to go.

But "Hole in the Heart" is the story of you all. You will be brought together. The threads will eventually be woven together, and then the REAL fun will begin. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) Make no mistake: this is going to be a heavily story-based game. Even the runs, when we get to that point, are going to be part of a storyline.

While I have plans to draw you all together, I by no means intend to railroad. Early on I may provide paths and guidelines so that everyone can be in the same scene at once, eventually, but once the team is together the story and the characters takes precedence.

I'm still taking submissions until July 1st, but do note that I'm already coming up with stories. The sooner the applications get in, the better your chances for getting into the game. We already have a bit of a full crew, and I contemplated cutting the thread off tonight. I'm a man of my word, though. I've been saying "July 1st" over and over, so now I feel as if I have to stick to that.

Narrative Style will be... "different." (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif) I believe major chunks of the story will be divided up into Chapters. There may be fast forwards now and again, maybe to get us all to the same day or something. But it'll be when there's a natural break in the flow of the story, not anything arbitrary like "because I feel like it." I'll get a concensus before I do any of that.

If you have any modifications need to or would like to do to your character sheets, go ahead and get those in ASAP.


I'll nail down some more specifics when we get closer to game time. I just wanted to let you all know that this thing is coming along.

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

Thanks for the update. I think we're all looking forward to what you have in store for us...

[Mister Juan]

@Abschalten
I haven't forgotten about the tweaks you mentioned previously in PMs. I will make them, don't worry. I've just been ridiculously sick these past few days, and being in from of the computer just makes me dizzy as hell. I should be ok in a couple of days tho.

[Abschalten]

@Abschalten
I haven't forgotten about the tweaks you mentioned previously in PMs. I will make them, don't worry. I've just been ridiculously sick these past few days, and being in from of the computer just makes me dizzy as hell. I should be ok in a couple of days tho.

Rest up and feel better, champ. We won't start exactly on the 1st, so if you need an extension it's cool.

[Martin_DeVries_I...]

OK, my sheet has been adjusted with the stuff we talked about.

[Combat Mage]

I'll be out of town on friday and thursday without internet access so you probably won't see a post from me on those days.

[Doc Chase]

Editing my sheet to add the breather mask - I'll dock it out of my current funds when I get access to my book tonight.

[Rystefn]

Raul "El Mono" Blanca

Background

[ Spoiler ]

"It all started when that chica with the suit showed up.

"Don't get me wrong, ese, life is hard in the barrios, and I wasn't exactly ridin' the gravy train before that. I grew up in the slums of Caracas, and my family's been here for as long as anybody remembers. Fightin', stealin', dodgin' the cops and the cartels, and always wonderin' where the next meal was coming from is how I grew up, so when I tell you life got bad when this bruja started comin' around, I want you to know that shit means somethin', comprende?

"She was a real looker, and dressed way to good for our neighborhood. Not like some lost Yanqui tourist, neither. Like some high jefe in the cartels gone slummin'. Scary stuff, I'm tellin' you. Didn't nobody bother her, neither. She just strolled through this ghetto like it was a park. Now I ain't no fool, so I lay low. Chica like that around here don't mean nothin' good. Not to you and me, anyways. You learn real quick not to stick your neck out in my neighborhood, not if you wanna keep your head attached to it.

"So I ducks down an alley and gets behind this big pile of trash, waitin' for her to pass, but she just turns and follows me. Now, first I'm just thinkin' bad luck, right? Better skate before I'm in the wrong place an' wrong time. So I jump up to fire escape and haul ass up to the roof. Before I can even catch my breath, she just flies up after me. Really. Flying. You remember I called her a bruja? I meant it. This lady's a witch. No me, I ain't never seen a real witch before that, and I didn't care to. I hauled ass the Hell out of there and never looked back... Chica's still huntin' me, an' I don't know why... but I hope I never find out."

Raul was born in the slums of Caracas, where the houses are stacked on top of each other like blocks and the streets are practically standing-room-only. Being good Catholics, his parents were fruitful and multiplied - multiplying the overcrowding of what was already very likely the most crowded city on earth. Four brothers and three sisters, with Raul the youngest, watching his siblings struggle against the crushing poverty. Generally, the only way out is drugs and gangs, but with million of kids trying the same thing, the odds are stacked hard against you. Three brothers and a sister died in the neverending gang squabbles, his youngest brother ODed on Bliss, and his oldest sister raped and murdered by a fifteen year old kid doing his initiation.

Feeling like he couldn't handle watching any more of his family die, he left his parents and remaining sister, Angelica, and struck out on his own at the age of seventeen. Vanishing into the seemingly infinite crowd of the poor of Caracas, he soon found that his family ties to the gang had been helping to keep him safe, and without that umbrella, life on the streets was even harder than the scrabbling existence he had known as a child. He learned the hard way how to fight, and more importantly, when not to. There are fights you can't win, and alone against a gang, that's pretty much all of them. The more important skills are running and hiding. Raul got very good at running and hiding. In Caracas, where the streets are too crowded to run in and the buildings are (sometimes literally) piled on top of one another, that means climbing.

What Raul didn't know was that at some point in his drug-addled teenage years, he had Awakened. Chalking the experience up to hallucinations, his magic developed in a less than focused manner. Rather than reaching truly superhuman levels of ability in any particular thing, his disbelief limited his abilities to that which (he believes) is achievable, giving him a mishmash of more subtle abilities.

Regardless of this, his high magic rating is easily discernible astrally, and it wasn't long before Raul was noticed by the cartels. A mage was sent out to investigate/recruit this new young adept living in the barrios, but they underestimated his ability to make himself scarce (probably not expecting he would flee from a generous offer of employment and possible ticket off the streets). Already paranoid from living on the streets all his life, Raul started seeing ghosts everywhere. Any look that lingered too long was a wizard trying to enchant him. It didn't help that anyone glancing onto the astral would see him glowing brightly and likely want to take a closer look. The attention from magic users unnerved him, and led to a seething distrust. Of course, they're probably working for that same chick who came looking for him...

Now it's four years later, and Raul, or "El Mono," is gaining a reputation as a highly skill second-story man. Even though he's a bit jumpy and hates working with people he doesn't know, he has a knack for getting into places others, and for getting away again afterward. Sure, he got caught a few times as a kid, but he knows a guy on the force now, and that's useful. Even if they don't quite get along so well, he can be persuaded to look the other way or drop some good info if you toss some cash his way. He's mellowed out some over the years, and isn't as likely to bolt at the first sign of danger anymore. Still always looking over his shoulder, though, and more often than not, jacked up on Long Haul a week at a time, scared of dropping his guard for a moment. Sometimes, that's useful, though, when you need to keep an eye on someone or something for a long time.

Attributes

[ Spoiler ]

280 Points
Body 5
Agility 6
Reaction 4 (5)
Strength 3
Charisma 2
Intuition 4
Logic 3
Willpower 4
Edge 3
Magic 6

Skills

[ Spoiler ]

124 Points
ACTIVE
Influence Group 1
-Con
-Etiquette
-Leadership
-Negotiation
Close Combat Group 1
-Blades
-Clubs
-Unarmed
Pistols (Light Pistols +2) 4
Perception (Visual +2) 2
Infiltration (Urban +2) 6
Athletics Group 4
-Climbing
-Gymnastics
-Running
-Swimming

LANGUAGES
Spanish N
English (Spanglish +2) 3
Or'zet (Street +2) 3

KNOWLEDGES
Gangs 4
Local Bars 3
Police Procedures 3
Action Trids 2
Goblin Rock 2

Qualities

[ Spoiler ]

+50 Points
Addiction (Moderate: Long Haul) 15points
Paranoid 15 points
Prejudiced (Specific, Biased: Dislikes Magicians) 5 points
SINner (Criminal) 15 points

Contacts

[ Spoiler ]

Carmen (Waitress) 4/1
Rodrigo "Rojo Oso" (Fence) 2/4
Detective Hernandez (Dirty Cop) 1/3

Resources

[ Spoiler ]

6 points (30,000)
COMMLINK (2200)
Renraku Sensei/Renraku Ichi
Analyze 1
Browse 2
Command 1
Edit 3
Encrypt 3
Scan 2

ARMOR (900)
Armored Jacket 8/6

WEAPONS (4650)
Ceramic Knife
Brass Knuckles
Small Bat (club)
Custom Yamaha Sakura Fubuki
-Extended Clip
-Smartgun System
-Flashlight

VEHICLES (12500)
Yamaha Growler
-Engine Customization (Speed and Accel)
-Run Flat Tires

OTHER GEAR (2855)
Autopicker rating 6
Miniwelder
Wire Clippers
Glass Cutter
Climbing Gear
Rappeling Gloves
Low-light Flashlight
Goggles w/ Image Link and Smartlink
Long Haul (5 doses)

LIFESTYLE (6400)
Comforts Low
Entertainment Low
Necessities Low
Neighborhood Squatter
Security Middle
-Hasty Exit +2
-Inconspicuous Housing +2
-Pest Magnet -1
-Rough Neighborhood -1

Adept Powers

[ Spoiler ]

Improved Reflexes 1 (1.5)
Combat Sense 3 (1.5)
Great Leap 2 (.5)
Wall Running (1)
Freefall 2 (.5)
Multi-Tasking (.5)
Mystic Armor 1 (.5)

[Combat Mage]

Custom Yamaha Sakura Fubuki
-Extended Clip

That won't work, the Yamaha Sakura Fubuki doesn't have clips, it has 4 muzzle loaders. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)



I'm off now visiting another city for possible colleges, will be back in 2 days.

[Lamhslea]

Chaske Mato, Sioux Nomad

DESCRIPTION

[ Spoiler ]

Chaske Mato, or Chayton Wanji as he now calls himself in the bars, is a big man. He used to be as strong as any Sioux warrior before a prolonged spiral of depression and drug abuse ate away at his muscles. Chayton covers up this weakness with a long duster or bulky combat biking armor as the situation warrants, trusting in his size to deter any brawls from starting. Coupled with the dead look in his eyes and utter apathy for the rest of the world this tends to work. He has a long black braid running down the right side of his face and a large, red bandanna holding his trodes securely in place. He tends to wear a leather duster except for when he takes rides through the slums on his Mirage, for that he wears full combat biker armor.

Although a hacker himself, Chaske looks down upon other riggers and hackers that spend so much time in the Matrix their bodies waste away to skin and bone, he was born to a proud Sioux family and grew up seeing himself as such. As much as he dislikes those that refuse to care for their bodies, he saves his contempt for those he considers to be traitors, and to a lesser extent cowards. Unfortunately both of these prejudices stem from his own self-loathing and still grapples with his past. He's hoping that here in Caracas he can finally leave it all behind.

BACKGROUND

[ Spoiler ]

He was 24 when it hit. No warning, just a sudden and bright lance of white pain straight into his skull, frying his brain and blazing his mind. He screamed louder than he ever had, but no sound came out. Your muscle contractions and extensions are controlled by electrical impulses from the brain; dial up the electrical impulse and you contract the muscle even tighter. With all that biofeedback pouring directly into his nervous system Chaske hit the fetal position so fast he dislocated his jaw and bruised a rib. His one saving grace was the stern advice from his parents to never pollute his body with cyberware. Without a datajack Chaske had to use trodes, and they burned out in a few nanoseconds.

Still, it was almost a week before he regained consciousness. It took another week to regain control of his body. Chaske was forced to listen to doctors tell his family and friends he may never recover. Every night his mother rested her forehead against him and whispered tear-choked prayers for his recovery.

When he finally did open his eyes Chaske was greeted by the sight of his brother, Misun. Although twins, Chaske never developed the magical talents his brother did and was a mundane security spider while Misun was a tribal shaman able to commune with the spirit world, taking up Bear as his mentor spirit.

His family was overjoyed at his recovery, but after a while Chaske began to hear voices in his head. At first it was faint and mostly static, noise more than anything else. After a time it got louder, and then clearer. No matter how badly he tried to ignore it they wouldn't leave him alone. He got on his bike and drove as far as he could, as he reached the Black Hills the noise began to wane. He camped out there for a few days, finally relieved at the calm. As he returned to the city however the voices returned in force. Chaske sent his brother a message and returned to the Black Hills.

When Misun arrived Chaske told him about the voices, the short bits of conversations he could hear but not understand. Misun assensed his brother but could find no signs of magic. Although confused, Misun taught his brother some basic mental exercises to calm his mind and focus on the physical. It took Chaske a few weeks, but he gradually moved his camp closer and closer to the city, with his brother making trips into town for food and supplies.

As Chaske inched toward the city the voices returned, but thanks to his brother's instruction he learned to block them out. After a time however, he experimented with focusing his concentration on the voices rather than away from them, he found he could make out what was being said now. Bits of conversations, but this time he was able to tune in and listen to the entire thing. With practice he even learned how to follow the conversations and with proper focus make out icons. It was then that Chaske began to understand he was in the Matrix; with that insight came a deluge of insight as he exulted in his newfound abilities and flew through the wireless world like a hawk that finally learned to fly. In this new realm he came across an ultra-realistic icon: a plain, brown spider.

When Chaske approached it the spider skittered away along a barely visible strand of webbing. Chaske grinned and took chase, but the spider remained just out of reach as they both sped through the Matrix at the speed of light. Eventually the spider began to slow and Chaske gained on it, but just as he was about to overtake the spider it vanished. Feeling a presence behind him Chaske spun to see an aged Lakota man in red robes hovering silently in the VR, the stranger gave a slight smile and Chaske took a step back as recognition hit him like a bucket of cold water. "Greetings, Iktomi." Chaske said respectfully to the Trickster spirit.

Over the next year Iktomi taught Chaske to ride the webs and develop his abilities. He soon learned about others like him by piecing together news reports from around the world. Hoping to find another like him Chaske began to scour the Matrix for any leads, even breaking into corporate nodes. What he found shocked him: The corps knew all about Technomancers, and not only that they were kidnapping and experimenting on them. Disgusted, but unsure of what to do Chaske reached out to his brother, sharing with him all of the information he had gained. The two decided to free those that they could, and prepared themselves as Iktomi taught Chaske how to summon sprites to do the data-mining for him as he toned his body for the inevitable fight that would occur. Through Misun's extensive travels he made a large number of contacts throughout the NAN, and was able to equip his brother and himself with the best gear available. As a religious figure he took Chaske's tales of Iktomi with equal parts suspicion and gratitude to the capricious Trickster for teaching his brother what he could not, and in reverence to the Spider commissioned a beautifully crafted monofiliment whip for his brother to use as a last resort.

Chaske trained dutifully with the weapon until his sprites had returned with the necessary intel: An MCT warehouse where a pair of technomancers were to be dropped off by a runner team. Chaske and Misun hit hard and fast, Chaske sending a swarm of sprites to wreak havoc on the runner's communications and vehicles while laying down covering fire for his brother as Misun conjured up a maelstrom of debris to pelt the runner's van. As the door slid open he directed a number of cinderblocks to go flying inside before throwing a manaball right into the middle of the group. With the runners unconscious the brothers managed to drag the technomancers away and set them up in a squat in the Sioux territory.

The brothers did this for awhile: searching for possible technomancer extractions and then running an extraction of their own before the Runners could make their drop. Eventually however they were made. A routine interception turned out to be an ambush, lead was flying everywhere and the air crackled from Misun's spells. With blood trickling from his eyes at the sheer strain of the magic his shamanic mask began to grow in intensity until he called out for Chaske to run.

Blinded with fear Chaske ran until he couldn't take breath any more. He collapsed behind a dumpster and then passed out. When he awoke it was bright morning, and he came to with a start. He hurriedly pinged his brother's commlink, but it consistently timed out. Chaske rushed home and tried to ring up all of his brother's contacts, hoping he was just laying low.

A year passed, but Chaske couldn't dig up any information on his brother, he spent weeks at a time attached to an IV drip as he searched and cracked every node he thought might have a clue, but to no avail. Disgusted with himself for leaving his brother behind, when by all right he should have been the one to be captured Chaske packed up his gear and fled south on his bike, hoping to outrun his past.

He's made his way by hacking low level corp nodes for paydata and occasionally doing a stint or two in underground combat biking competitions. He's kept the whip his brother gave him, and has practiced with it to the point he can tear off an unruly ganger's cheek to let the rest his gang know he's not looking for a fight, but he won't be fucked with.

Chaske's been on the move for awhile now, and his hoping to lose himself in Caracas. He's found a nice apartment with an underground garage for his bike and passes himself off as a hispanic when he's out buying groceries or paying the rent. The rest of the time he's trying to forget himself to little success; his parents raised him to be proud of his heritage, and try as he might he'll never be able to let that go. But money is starting to run tight, and he needs to pay the bills.

SHEET

[ Spoiler ]

Chaske Mato -- Human(Sioux/Lakota) -- 0 BP

ATTRIBUTES - 200 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Body - 5
Agility - 3
Reaction - 3
Strength - 2
Charisma - 3
Intuition - 5
Logic - 3
Willpower - 4

SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES - 60 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Edge - 4
Resonance - 5

QUALITIES - (-43) BP

[ Spoiler ]

POSITIVE (10)
Technomancer(Info Savant) - 5
Paragon(Flow) - 5

NEGATIVE (-35*1.5, rounded up = -53)
Big Regret (Leaving his brother behind) (-5)
Lost Loved One (Brother) (-5)
Prejudiced (Specific:Traitors, Outspoken) (-10)
Prejudiced (Specific:The willingly infirm*, biased) (-5)
Scorched (He gained his Technomancer abilities in the Crash) (-10)

*This one is more complicated, being raised in a relatively macho environment Johnathon has a problem with young, otherwise healthy men and to some extent women, that spend the majority of their lives limp. He's relatively outspoken about it, but I downgraded it slightly because he makes a lot of exceptions, but not for himself (usually).

ACTIVE SKILLS - 140 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Exotic Melee (Whip) 6
Pistols 1
Perception 1
Compiling 4
Registering 4
Etiquette 1
Intimidation 1
Negotiation 1
Electronics Group 4
Electronic Warfare 1
Pilot Ground craft 1
Hacking 4

KNOWLEDGE SKILLS - (24 Free) 0 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Lakota (Sioux):N
English: 4
Spanish: 4

Native American Nations: 3
Native American Religion: 3
Native American Music: 3
Technomancers: 3
Data Havens:3
Combat Biking: 1

COMPLEX FORMS - 21BP

[ Spoiler ]

Smartlink 1
Analyze 5
Browse 3
Edit 1
Scan 5
Exploit 1
Stealth 5

CONTACTS - 7 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Fixer L1 C3
Mechanic L1 C2

GEAR - 73,900¥ (1,100¥ left over):: 15 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Armor - 13,000¥

[ Spoiler ]

4,650¥ - Full Body Jumpsuit + Mods

1,600¥ Full Body Jumpsuit [9 capacity]
    50¥ [3] Skinlink
1,500¥ [2] Chemical Protection 6
   300¥ [1] Biomonitor
1,200¥ [3] Nonconductivity 6

1,350¥ - Lined Jacket + Mods

700¥ - Lined Jacket [9 capacity]
  50¥ [3] Skinlink
600¥ [2] Fire Resistance 6

4,150¥ - Bike Racing Armor + Mods

  500¥ - Bike Racing Armor [6 capacity]
    50¥ [3] Skinlink
  600¥ [2] Fire Resistance 6
3000¥ [1] Olfactory Sensor (set to constantly scan for combustible vapors and send a warning to the commlink when detected)

2,300¥ - Bike Racing Helmet + Mods

 200¥ - Helmet [6 capacity]
   50¥ [3] Skinlink
  150¥ [1] Audio System (Headphones 3)
  300¥ Audio Enhancement 3
  600¥ Select Sound Filter 3
1000¥ [2] Ultrasound Sensor

550¥ - PPP SecureTech

200¥ - Vital Protector
200¥ - Forearm Guard
150¥ - Shin

Weapons - 10,375¥

[ Spoiler ]

All weapons have [6] capacity slots.

4,500¥ Monofilimant Whip + Mods and accessory.

3000¥ Monofilimant Whip
1000¥ [1] Custom Look 2 (The grip is a serious of steel 'threads' running vertically down the handle. Beads made of turquoise, onyx, and bleached bone completely cover the steel threads, forming a beautiful artwork that reminds John of home. This whip is his most prized possession.
  100¥ [1] Personal Grip.
  350¥ -- Hidden Arm Sled
    50¥ -- Skinlink for arm sled.

4,725¥ - Yamaha Fubuki + Mods and accessories

2000¥ Yamaha Fubuki
2000¥ [1] Smartgun, internal
    50¥ [1] Skinlink
  400¥ [2] Silencer
  200¥ [1] Safe Target System (Image Recognition)
    75¥ Concealed Holster

1150¥ Yamaha Pulsar + mods and accessoies

150¥ Yamaha Pulsar
150¥ [1] Smartgun, internal
100¥ [1] Personal grip
  50¥ [1] Skinlink
200¥ [1] Same Target System (Image Recognition)
350¥ - Hidden Arm Sled
  50¥ - Skinlink for arm sled
100¥ - 20 Taser darts

Vehicle - 33,850¥

[ Spoiler ]

6500¥ Suzuki Mirage [6 capacity]
    50¥ - Skinlink (Handlebars and handlebar accessories only)
1000¥ - Morphing license plate
  500¥ - Spoof chip
5000¥ - 2 Smart tires
3000¥ - Pilot 3
1800¥ [1] Motorcycle gyro stabilization
2500¥ [1] Nitrous-Oxide injector
7500¥ [2] Engine Customization (Acceleration)
6000¥ [2] Engine Customization (Speed)

Lifestyle - 4,400¥ (Middle[14])

[ Spoiler ]

Comfort 2
Entertainment 2
Necessities 3
Neighborhood 2
Security 3
In Tune +5
Hasty Exit +2
Worse Neighbors -1 (Bunraku parlor)
Ambusher's Delight -3

Miscellaneous - 11,975¥

[ Spoiler ]

4000¥ - Fake SIN R4 (Horacio Castaño Rodriguez, Caribbean League) [Public SIN]
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Motorcycle)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Yamaha Fubuki)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Concealed Carry)

4000¥ - Fake SIN R4 (Chaytan Wanji, Sioux) [Runner SIN]
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Motorcycle)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Yamaha Fubuki)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Concealed Carry)

  250¥ - Backpack
    70¥ - Rappeling Gloves

  150¥ Contact Lenses R3
    25¥ - Image Link
    50¥ - Flare Compensator
  100¥ - Thermographic Vision

  300¥ - Combat Load Vest
  500¥ - Medkit R6
  200¥ - Gas Mask
  150¥ - Respirator R6
  150¥ - 2 doses of Jazz

Sorry for taking so long! Also, I'm going to be gone this weekend for the Fourth of July, but I'll be back either Monday or Tuesday. If anyone has any suggestions or critiques please let me know!

This post has been edited by Lamhslea: Jul 1 2010, 09:11 AM

[DrZaius]

Chaske Mato, Sioux Nomad

DESCRIPTION

[ Spoiler ]

Chaske Mato, or Chayton Wanji as he now calls himself in the bars, is a big man. He used to be as strong as any Sioux warrior before a prolonged spiral of depression and drug abuse ate away at his muscles. Chayton covers up this weakness with a long duster or bulky combat biking armor as the situation warrants, trusting in his size to deter any brawls from starting. Coupled with the dead look in his eyes and utter apathy for the rest of the world this tends to work. He has a long black braid running down the right side of his face and a large, red bandanna holding his trodes securely in place. He tends to wear a leather duster except for when he takes rides through the slums on his Mirage, for that he wears full combat biker armor.

Although a hacker himself, Chaske looks down upon other riggers and hackers that spend so much time in the Matrix their bodies waste away to skin and bone, he was born to a proud Sioux family and grew up seeing himself as such. As much as he dislikes those that refuse to care for their bodies, he saves his contempt for those he considers to be traitors, and to a lesser extent cowards. Unfortunately both of these prejudices stem from his own self-loathing and still grapples with his past. He's hoping that here in Caracas he can finally leave it all behind.

BACKGROUND

[ Spoiler ]

He was 24 when it hit. No warning, just a sudden and bright lance of white pain straight into his skull, frying his brain and blazing his mind. He screamed louder than he ever had, but no sound came out. Your muscle contractions and extensions are controlled by electrical impulses from the brain; dial up the electrical impulse and you contract the muscle even tighter. With all that biofeedback pouring directly into his nervous system Chaske hit the fetal position so fast he dislocated his jaw and bruised a rib. His one saving grace was the stern advice from his parents to never pollute his body with cyberware. Without a datajack Chaske had to use trodes, and they burned out in a few nanoseconds.

Still, it was almost a week before he regained consciousness. It took another week to regain control of his body. Chaske was forced to listen to doctors tell his family and friends he may never recover. Every night his mother rested her forehead against him and whispered tear-choked prayers for his recovery.

When he finally did open his eyes Chaske was greeted by the sight of his brother, Misun. Although twins, Chaske never developed the magical talents his brother did and was a mundane security spider while Misun was a tribal shaman able to commune with the spirit world, taking up Bear as his mentor spirit.

His family was overjoyed at his recovery, but after a while Chaske began to hear voices in his head. At first it was faint and mostly static, noise more than anything else. After a time it got louder, and then clearer. No matter how badly he tried to ignore it they wouldn't leave him alone. He got on his bike and drove as far as he could, as he reached the Black Hills the noise began to wane. He camped out there for a few days, finally relieved at the calm. As he returned to the city however the voices returned in force. Chaske sent his brother a message and returned to the Black Hills.

When Misun arrived Chaske told him about the voices, the short bits of conversations he could hear but not understand. Misun assensed his brother but could find no signs of magic. Although confused, Misun taught his brother some basic mental exercises to calm his mind and focus on the physical. It took Chaske a few weeks, but he gradually moved his camp closer and closer to the city, with his brother making trips into town for food and supplies.

As Chaske inched toward the city the voices returned, but thanks to his brother's instruction he learned to block them out. After a time however, he experimented with focusing his concentration on the voices rather than away from them, he found he could make out what was being said now. Bits of conversations, but this time he was able to tune in and listen to the entire thing. With practice he even learned how to follow the conversations and with proper focus make out icons. It was then that Chaske began to understand he was in the Matrix; with that insight came a deluge of insight as he exulted in his newfound abilities and flew through the wireless world like a hawk that finally learned to fly. In this new realm he came across an ultra-realistic icon: a plain, brown spider.

When Chaske approached it the spider skittered away along a barely visible strand of webbing. Chaske grinned and took chase, but the spider remained just out of reach as they both sped through the Matrix at the speed of light. Eventually the spider began to slow and Chaske gained on it, but just as he was about to overtake the spider it vanished. Feeling a presence behind him Chaske spun to see an aged Lakota man in red robes hovering silently in the VR, the stranger gave a slight smile and Chaske took a step back as recognition hit him like a bucket of cold water. "Greetings, Iktomi." Chaske said respectfully to the Trickster spirit.

Over the next year Iktomi taught Chaske to ride the webs and develop his abilities. He soon learned about others like him by piecing together news reports from around the world. Hoping to find another like him Chaske began to scour the Matrix for any leads, even breaking into corporate nodes. What he found shocked him: The corps knew all about Technomancers, and not only that they were kidnapping and experimenting on them. Disgusted, but unsure of what to do Chaske reached out to his brother, sharing with him all of the information he had gained. The two decided to free those that they could, and prepared themselves as Iktomi taught Chaske how to summon sprites to do the data-mining for him as he toned his body for the inevitable fight that would occur. Through Misun's extensive travels he made a large number of contacts throughout the NAN, and was able to equip his brother and himself with the best gear available. As a religious figure he took Chaske's tales of Iktomi with equal parts suspicion and gratitude to the capricious Trickster for teaching his brother what he could not, and in reverence to the Spider commissioned a beautifully crafted monofiliment whip for his brother to use as a last resort.

Chaske trained dutifully with the weapon until his sprites had returned with the necessary intel: An MCT warehouse where a pair of technomancers were to be dropped off by a runner team. Chaske and Misun hit hard and fast, Chaske sending a swarm of sprites to wreak havoc on the runner's communications and vehicles while laying down covering fire for his brother as Misun conjured up a maelstrom of debris to pelt the runner's van. As the door slid open he directed a number of cinderblocks to go flying inside before throwing a manaball right into the middle of the group. With the runners unconscious the brothers managed to drag the technomancers away and set them up in a squat in the Sioux territory.

The brothers did this for awhile: searching for possible technomancer extractions and then running an extraction of their own before the Runners could make their drop. Eventually however they were made. A routine interception turned out to be an ambush, lead was flying everywhere and the air crackled from Misun's spells. With blood trickling from his eyes at the sheer strain of the magic his shamanic mask began to grow in intensity until he called out for Chaske to run.

Blinded with fear Chaske ran until he couldn't take breath any more. He collapsed behind a dumpster and then passed out. When he awoke it was bright morning, and he came to with a start. He hurriedly pinged his brother's commlink, but it consistently timed out. Chaske rushed home and tried to ring up all of his brother's contacts, hoping he was just laying low.

A year passed, but Chaske couldn't dig up any information on his brother, he spent weeks at a time attached to an IV drip as he searched and cracked every node he thought might have a clue, but to no avail. Disgusted with himself for leaving his brother behind, when by all right he should have been the one to be captured Chaske packed up his gear and fled south on his bike, hoping to outrun his past.

He's made his way by hacking low level corp nodes for paydata and occasionally doing a stint or two in underground combat biking competitions. He's kept the whip his brother gave him, and has practiced with it to the point he can tear off an unruly ganger's cheek to let the rest his gang know he's not looking for a fight, but he won't be fucked with.

Chaske's been on the move for awhile now, and his hoping to lose himself in Caracas. He's found a nice apartment with an underground garage for his bike and passes himself off as a hispanic when he's out buying groceries or paying the rent. The rest of the time he's trying to forget himself to little success; his parents raised him to be proud of his heritage, and try as he might he'll never be able to let that go. But money is starting to run tight, and he needs to pay the bills.

SHEET

[ Spoiler ]

Chaske Mato -- Human(Sioux/Lakota) -- 0 BP

ATTRIBUTES - 200 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Body - 5
Agility - 3
Reaction - 3
Strength - 2
Charisma - 3
Intuition - 5
Logic - 3
Willpower - 4

SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES - 60 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Edge - 4
Resonance - 5

QUALITIES - (-43) BP

[ Spoiler ]

POSITIVE (10)
Technomancer(Info Savant) - 5
Paragon(Flow) - 5

NEGATIVE (-35*1.5, rounded up = -53)
Big Regret (Leaving his brother behind) (-5)
Lost Loved One (Brother) (-5)
Prejudiced (Specific:Traitors, Outspoken) (-10)
Prejudiced (Specific:The willingly infirm*, biased) (-5)
Scorched (He gained his Technomancer abilities in the Crash) (-10)

*This one is more complicated, being raised in a relatively macho environment Johnathon has a problem with young, otherwise healthy men and to some extent women, that spend the majority of their lives limp. He's relatively outspoken about it, but I downgraded it slightly because he makes a lot of exceptions, but not for himself (usually).

ACTIVE SKILLS - 140 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Exotic Melee (Whip) 6
Pistols 1
Perception 1
Compiling 4
Registering 4
Etiquette 1
Intimidation 1
Negotiation 1
Electronics Group 4
Electronic Warfare 1
Pilot Ground craft 1
Hacking 4

KNOWLEDGE SKILLS - (24 Free) 0 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Lakota (Sioux):N
English: 4
Spanish: 4

Native American Nations: 3
Native American Religion: 3
Native American Music: 3
Technomancers: 3
Data Havens:3
Combat Biking: 1

COMPLEX FORMS - 21BP

[ Spoiler ]

Smartlink 1
Analyze 5
Browse 3
Edit 1
Scan 5
Exploit 1
Stealth 5

CONTACTS - 7 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Fixer L1 C3
Mechanic L1 C2

GEAR - 73,900¥ (1,100¥ left over):: 15 BP

[ Spoiler ]

Armor - 13,000¥

[ Spoiler ]

4,650¥ - Full Body Jumpsuit + Mods

1,600¥ Full Body Jumpsuit [9 capacity]
    50¥ [3] Skinlink
1,500¥ [2] Chemical Protection 6
   300¥ [1] Biomonitor
1,200¥ [3] Nonconductivity 6

1,350¥ - Lined Jacket + Mods

700¥ - Lined Jacket [9 capacity]
  50¥ [3] Skinlink
600¥ [2] Fire Resistance 6

4,150¥ - Bike Racing Armor + Mods

  500¥ - Bike Racing Armor [6 capacity]
    50¥ [3] Skinlink
  600¥ [2] Fire Resistance 6
3000¥ [1] Olfactory Sensor (set to constantly scan for combustible vapors and send a warning to the commlink when detected)

2,300¥ - Bike Racing Helmet + Mods

 200¥ - Helmet [6 capacity]
   50¥ [3] Skinlink
  150¥ [1] Audio System (Headphones 3)
  300¥ Audio Enhancement 3
  600¥ Select Sound Filter 3
1000¥ [2] Ultrasound Sensor

550¥ - PPP SecureTech

200¥ - Vital Protector
200¥ - Forearm Guard
150¥ - Shin

Weapons - 10,375¥

[ Spoiler ]

All weapons have [6] capacity slots.

4,500¥ Monofilimant Whip + Mods and accessory.

3000¥ Monofilimant Whip
1000¥ [1] Custom Look 2 (The grip is a serious of steel 'threads' running vertically down the handle. Beads made of turquoise, onyx, and bleached bone completely cover the steel threads, forming a beautiful artwork that reminds John of home. This whip is his most prized possession.
  100¥ [1] Personal Grip.
  350¥ -- Hidden Arm Sled
    50¥ -- Skinlink for arm sled.

4,725¥ - Yamaha Fubuki + Mods and accessories

2000¥ Yamaha Fubuki
2000¥ [1] Smartgun, internal
    50¥ [1] Skinlink
  400¥ [2] Silencer
  200¥ [1] Safe Target System (Image Recognition)
    75¥ Concealed Holster

1150¥ Yamaha Pulsar + mods and accessoies

150¥ Yamaha Pulsar
150¥ [1] Smartgun, internal
100¥ [1] Personal grip
  50¥ [1] Skinlink
200¥ [1] Same Target System (Image Recognition)
350¥ - Hidden Arm Sled
  50¥ - Skinlink for arm sled
100¥ - 20 Taser darts

Vehicle - 33,850¥

[ Spoiler ]

6500¥ Suzuki Mirage [6 capacity]
    50¥ - Skinlink (Handlebars and handlebar accessories only)
1000¥ - Morphing license plate
  500¥ - Spoof chip
5000¥ - 2 Smart tires
3000¥ - Pilot 3
1800¥ [1] Motorcycle gyro stabilization
2500¥ [1] Nitrous-Oxide injector
7500¥ [2] Engine Customization (Acceleration)
6000¥ [2] Engine Customization (Speed)

Lifestyle - 4,400¥ (Middle[14])

[ Spoiler ]

Comfort 2
Entertainment 2
Necessities 3
Neighborhood 2
Security 3
In Tune +5
Hasty Exit +2
Worse Neighbors -1 (Bunraku parlor)
Ambusher's Delight -3

Miscellaneous - 11,975¥

[ Spoiler ]

4000¥ - Fake SIN R4 (Horacio Castaño Rodriguez, Caribbean League) [Public SIN]
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Motorcycle)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Yamaha Fubuki)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Concealed Carry)

4000¥ - Fake SIN R4 (Chaytan Wanji, Sioux) [Runner SIN]
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Motorcycle)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Yamaha Fubuki)
  400¥ - Fake License R4 (Concealed Carry)

  250¥ - Backpack
    70¥ - Rappeling Gloves

  150¥ Contact Lenses R3
    25¥ - Image Link
    50¥ - Flare Compensator
  100¥ - Thermographic Vision

  300¥ - Combat Load Vest
  500¥ - Medkit R6
  200¥ - Gas Mask
  150¥ - Respirator R6
  150¥ - 2 doses of Jazz

Sorry for taking so long! Also, I'm going to be gone this weekend for the Fourth of July, but I'll be back either Monday or Tuesday. If anyone has any suggestions or critiques please let me know!

I think most people are outspoken in their hatred of traitors. To me, I think of prejudice as "unwarranted", i.e. "I don't like Japanese people" or some such. I guess my point is that something like "prejudice: Pedophiles" doesn't seem like it would be appropriate. I understand TMs need a ton of BPs, I just think that's a weak point on the sheet is all. YMMV.

-DrZaius

[Abschalten]

I think most people are outspoken in their hatred of traitors. To me, I think of prejudice as "unwarranted", i.e. "I don't like Japanese people" or some such. I guess my point is that something like "prejudice: Pedophiles" doesn't seem like it would be appropriate. I understand TMs need a ton of BPs, I just think that's a weak point on the sheet is all. YMMV.

-DrZaius

I'm inclined to agree. "Prejudiced: Enemies" is sorta on the same level. You need to pick a firmly established group of people for those two Prejudices. Males, Females, Gays, Straights, Azzies, Citizens of Trans-Polar Aleut, British folk, orks, trolls, humans, etc. It's fine to have prejudices (and in fact I encourage it!) but make sure it is actually a prejudice and not a value judgement ("the willingly infirm") or something that just seems wishy-washy and taken for granted.

[Rystefn]

That won't work, the Yamaha Sakura Fubuki doesn't have clips, it has 4 muzzle loaders. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

A pump-action shotgun doesn't have a clip, either, it has an internal magazine, but it seems to me that you could mod the weapon to increase the magazine size in the same way, right? Actually, since increasing th size of an external magazine (or adding a drum magazine) doesn't actually modify the weapon, and Extended Clip takes up mod slots on the weapon, I think there's a pretty solid argument in favor of allowing it for non-clip loaded weapons. That said, I'm willing to change it if the GM rules against it, it doesn't make-or-break the character in any way.

Also, there's not actually a single clip-fed weapon in the whole game of ShadowRun, technically... but that's neither here nor there.

[Doc Chase]

You can mod an internal magazine on a boomstick by removing the barrel plug to shift a 3-round longarm to seven or eight, yes. The pistol in question is...eh, not so much. It only has four barrels.

You're also not going to put a drum mag on an internal mag shotgun - there's nowhere for the drum to attach (and it's a pain to pump through all that anyway). Drum mag shotguns such as a Pancor Jackhammer (or an Enfield AS-7d, which brings a happy tear to my eye) don't have pump actions as they are semiauto / burstfire weapons.

Modding an internal magazine is tricky business because there's not a lot of space to expand to.

[Abschalten]

That's It Folks! - Recruitment Is Over!

I'm cutting recruitment off here. I've decided I'm going to take everyone who's applied so far. The backstories for everyone's characters are really good and I think I can work pretty well with them. The two newest applicants, Lahmslea and Rystefn, fill some archetypes I was hoping we'd get in the game: a more combat-oriented adept and a technomancer.

Another reason I'm going to go ahead with 8 is so in case anybody chumps out or has to leave the game for any reason, the game itself doesn't get totally deflated. I've seen too many PbPs where interest gets quickly lost when a couple of people decide they're bored with the game or just vanish suddenly. I hope to avoid that situation here, both because we've got enough people and because the game is gonna be just that fun. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

If there's any things pointed out with your character sheets, go ahead and get those fixed. I'm at work tonight and may be busy through the weekend but I'm going to make an effort to try to get to your sheets and give them a final review. Once I've approved all of 'em we'll be that much closer to getting our OOC and IC threads up and running.

Go ahead and start thinking up some basics like what your character looks like and start really trying to figure out what their daily life consists of. Think of any projects they have going on (trying to find a job, trying to get a lead on a personal quest, etc) and send me a PM about what they've got going on. More than likely I will choose a time of day and ask everyone to make their first post describing what is going on at that very moment with their character, and possibly some storyline introduction and leadup. Don't be afraid to really ham it up film noir-style. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

Rule of thumb to use: Quality over Quantity. You don't have to go nuts (like I do at times) with the word count. If you give me a solid paragraph for a post, something I can work with, then you have done your job as a player. If we're in a situation where some back-and-forth is required for dialogue I'll try to be available to keep the momentum going.

I'm not going to nail down a date and time yet, but I'll say that we're going to start "soon." It'll probably be very early next week. Until then we'll use this thread to coordinate our efforts until I can make a post here that'll officially kick things off, with links to the OOC and IC threads.

(IMG:style_emoticons/default/smile.gif)

[Rastus]

*looks over the other seven guys* We sure got one charming bunch of ragtag misfits. If only we could wrangle George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon into our crew. Not a single casino world-wide would be safe from us...

Oh well. Guess we'll just have to settle for all the other places that couldn't hope to stop three sams, a mage, rigger, face, stealth/combat adept, and technomancer. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/biggrin.gif) No really, we could almost liberate a country with this crew.

[Rystefn]

You can mod an internal magazine on a boomstick by removing the barrel plug to shift a 3-round longarm to seven or eight, yes. The pistol in question is...eh, not so much. It only has four barrels.

You're also not going to put a drum mag on an internal mag shotgun - there's nowhere for the drum to attach (and it's a pain to pump through all that anyway). Drum mag shotguns such as a Pancor Jackhammer (or an Enfield AS-7d, which brings a happy tear to my eye) don't have pump actions as they are semiauto / burstfire weapons.

Modding an internal magazine is tricky business because there's not a lot of space to expand to.

OK, I think I failed to communicate what I was trying to say, because a pump-action with a drum mag has about as much to do with what I was attempting to explain as a crossbow with a drum mag... So let's ignore my previous post and hopefully this time, I'll be a bit clearer, ok?

First, I'm aware that the Fubuki does use a "clip" (the SR rules are confused as to what a clip is, but for the purposes of this discussion, let's go ahead and use the game's definition - which is an external, removable magazine), but I figured that since revolvers also have a mad that allows for more shots before reloading, and I know that a pump-action shotgun can be modded to hold more rounds in the internal magazine, it would be acceptable to apply the same concept to this weapon using the rules for Extended Clip.

Second, since actual weapons using a clip (such as assault rifles and automatic pistols) can use extended clips and even drum mags in the real world without modification (the modification is to the clip, not the weapon), and the in-game mod actually modifies the weapon, it seems to me that the modification makes more sense when applied to weapons with internal magazines such as a pump-action shotgun and others which actually require modification to the weapon, such as the Fubuki.

Third, if it is ruled against, I have no problem changing the weapon, since it's not exactly integral to the character. Since the rounds are stored in each barrel before firing, I would also be more than willing to add Barrel Extension to the weapon to make the mod more plausible.

[Abschalten]

*Stuff*

*Handwave*

Eh, whatever. If MECHANICALLY you are not prohibited from modding the weapon in that way, I'll allow it. Maybe it's not an "extended clip" per se, but maybe something comparable that achieves a similar effect. I like guns but I'm pretty ignorant of them in real life. I'm in no position to debate whether or not modding fictional cyberpunk weapons is "realistic" or even makes logical sense.

[Rastus]

Seeing as the Fubuki's method of loading ammo is by replacing the barrels themselves(as metalstorm weapons are want to do), it wouldn't be too hard to simply buy longer barrels with a few extra shells in them.

[Mister Juan]

A lousy night in Caracas with Dexter Pope

It’s a lousy night, in a lousy part of town. In all honesty, the only thing lousier than this night is the mood I’m in. I’ve had to crank way the hell up the volume on the little makeshift radio I bought from this kid on the sidewalk. The grid is so damn spotty I can’t even rely on it for music anymore. Some guy got some sort of FM repeater on his roof, I can see it from here. Odds are, what I’m getting on waves is what he’s bouncing. Luckily enough for me, all I get is a mix of static and Russian pop music.

Over my bunk, the fan spins lazily. Probably about as tired as me. Probably about as old as me by the looks of it. It’s got that dirty beige retro color to it. The sort of shitty colors they used to make everything that was plastic coated back in the days. Shitty techno beige. Hey, could be worst. They could’ve made it shitty techno fake brown wood. With the radio and the sound of the crowded street below, it’s just enough to cover up that damn ruckus from next door. Paper thin walls, broken windows, patchy plaster work, dirty golden retriever yellow carpet, flickering lights and water I wouldn’t drink it if you paid me. And I’m the sort of guy you pay to waste someone. Kinda tells you about my state of mind, don’t it. Yep. Prime real fuckin’ estate this little apartment.

Did I mention the fuckin’ noise from next door are the grunts and moans of dirty and oil slick Pacos? Greasy blue collars with tiny mustaches that come at all hours of the day and night to get their groove on with tired and bag eyed meat puppets. I swear; some of them girls look about as old as my own daughters. Physically, I mean. You can see the pain in their glazed eyes. Like they’re dead inside. I keep telling myself it’s probably the ware they stuff ‘em with that makes ‘em like that. Memory locks. Sensory cut outs shit. Stuff to make ‘em forget what the hell is really going on. At least, that’s what I keep hoping. Odds are, what’s really going on has a bit less class. They probably just cram ‘em full of dope ‘n shit. Yea. I talk big like I’m some kind of high and mighty knight, full of honor and ethics. I ain’t. Haven’t been for quite some time.

There was a time where I would have stood for something, tried to make a real difference. I don’t anymore. When you have to put a bullet in the head of a child who’s walked on your conceal sniper position, part of you dies. It isn’t the act of pulling the trigger that kills something in you. It’s the aftermath. It’s the moment when you realize you didn’t hesitate to pull that trigger. I’ve gone to bed with hookers who look twice as tired as those. But then again, that was back then and this is right now. With the fan spinning lazily over my head. It’s just like the world. It’s tired but it keeps on spinning.

It’s so fuckin’ hot in this joint, I feel like I’m back in the jungle again. Sometimes, I’ll wake up at night, with fits and cold sweats. I can sometimes feel that piece of shrapnel stuck in my lower back. I know it’s there and I feel it. Doc says it’s just in my head, and he’s probably right. After all, he’s got a degree from some school for that shit, and I don’t. People like myself don’t know much about whatever. We know where to go to make it hurt, and we know from which end the bullet comes out of. Just enough to do our job.

Not that I do a whole lot of work these days. Haven’t heard shit from Morris in over two months. Either means they've finally written off the books, or they're running out of people for me to cap. I’m out of cred and out of time. Had to sell my pickup to pay the rent. And what loose cred I had left, I either drank or lost by betting on those rigged pit fights. Fuck me. I’ve got that thing creeping back, in the corner of my brain, tugging at my eye balls. That thing that’s been waiting for the right moment to kill me. It knows I’m at the end of my roll. I know it to. Somehow, it doesn’t want to take me right here and now. I’ve been waiting to die for the past five years.

Some day, my number is going to come up, and I’ll have to answer for all the shit I’ve done. The trick for us career soldiers to live to an old age was to outrun that bullet long enough. Cause out there, in the jungle, there’s a bullet for every one of us. There’s a bullet with our name stamped on it, and it’s just waiting. My body is starting to give up on me. My reflexes are half as sharp as they used to be, and I’m getting careless. I cut corners more and more. I go on the gambling streak more and more. And I’m getting old. Too old for this shit. Too old to stay on top. Like this fan over my head, getting tired of spinning. I’m getting tired, and I’m getting slow.

There ain’t no way in hell I can outrun that bullet anymore. It’s going to catch up to me, sooner rather than later. I don’t mind it too much, come to think of it. I’ve had a long life. Longer than anyone I knew. Everyone’s dead actually. Everyone. All there’s left is me, and not everything is there anymore. Lost some pieces along the way. I’ve got blown apart and put back together so many times, I ain’t surprised if I ever find out they color coded my bones. Matter of fact, I’m already surprised my dick hasn’t been sown back on my elbow by now. Last time I got shot up good, the guy who patched me up ran an underground clinic for sick paranormal pets. I shit you not. He didn’t do half of a bad job either.

When I came in, the world was pretty fucked up. When the kids came along, I decided I wanted to leave this place a little better than I found it. Outside my window, I can hear some guy getting stabbed. Well, fuck ‘em. He probably deserved it. By the looks of it, I won’t be leaving this world better than I found it. At least, not this shit hole. Sometimes, when the booze gets heavy enough on my mind, I start seeing shadows. Shadows and faces. People I lost. People I killed. People I left behind to die. Never leave a man behind… What a fuckload of shit. Mission First, People Always. Yea right. Does pretty well for the PR and recruiting adds. But out there, in the bush, when you’re sneaking around in someone else backyard, doing shit you ain’t supposed to be doing, everyone’s expendable. Everyone. You get bagged, you’re on your own.

The Shadows of this hell hole are the closest thing to the jungle I’ve ever found. In the jungle, everything’s out to kill you. In Caracas, it’s the same thing. I’m sure there’s a dozen other places that are real hairy on this planet. I don’t doubt it. But trust me, there’s no living jungle like Caracas. If the bullets don’t get ya, this fuckin’ heat will.

But hey, come to think of it, the food ain’t half bad.

I guess that counts for something, right?

[Abschalten]

I confess. I read that, and I got a little hot. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/love.gif)

[Mister Juan]

Well, I'm glad my writing can produce such an effect on someone (IMG:style_emoticons/default/wink.gif)

[Doc Chase]

Mama's Gotta Eat, with Sonora
Written to Massive Attack - Angel

Rent was going to be due.

It had been a lean month for Sonora, as it had been for so many others. The increasing tensions between Aztlan and Amazonia had the whole town trying to pull the ground over their heads until the situation blew over. Sitting pretty between the two as they were, however, meant they were in it for the long haul.

The night was hot, and stank of sweat, stale cigarillos, and blood in some places. There was no rest back at the doss, as Carmen had left the tell-tale sign that she'd brought her work home with her: A pair of boots, men's size nine-and-a-half at the front door. The oh-so 'passionate' noises eminating from the apartment told Sonora that her roommate was bringing home the bacon, as the norteamericanos would say.

You could tell a lot about a person from the shoes they wore. Black polished leather, with worn laces suggesting that the occupants didn't spend a lot of time in the field, but plenty of time looking sharp. Widened tops suggested the man was heavier than most, and the sound of the combined beds squeaking only confirmed it. Someone that fat and shiny could only be an officer, perhaps with the police, perhaps not.

Sonora supposed 'bringing home the bacon' was a very apt description. With a thin smile on her face, she made her way through the streets of Caracas to find...something. Anything. A paycheck would be best, a mark would be acceptable, and Sister Mary always had a favor to ask of her...

====

This is what she was reduced to - running interference for a bookie during the pit fights to get the people to bet on the losers. It wasn't even a classy pit fight, where tuxes and evening wear were the norm. No, this was the pit fight in a run-down warehouse surrounded by greasy, dirty, desperate people who would bet their savings on some fool about to be slaughtered in a battle that had concluded before the betting had even opened.

She watched the people as she slipped through the crowd. She wasn't noticed because she didn't want to be - her face pressed into a nondescript mask, covered by the respirator. You could see the fear in their eyes, read the apprehension in their gait. That one was desperate. That one was angry. That one was about to commit suicide if he lost another bet. That one was going to be murdered if he didn't win a bet - the desperate ones who owed money to the gangs always had a certain tic about their eye, always clenched their tickets a little harder than everyone else.

She was stopped once by a small-time dealer trying to break into a new area. Tempo, he said, would let you feel what the fighters do, and make the fight wonderful.

Out of habit, she widened her eyes and affected a bubbly tone of innocent wonder. Why no, of course she'd never tried it before, but would it really? Oh she would just have to sense the feelings of the Troll, he was the sure thing!

She wouldn't touch this shit with a ten meter pole. The last thing she wanted to taste was the emotional aura of this place.

Smelling a potential sale, the dealer had moved closer. Covering her move as one to look at the slap patch closely, she palmed a rubber-band wrapped packet from the dealer's inner jacket. Ten, maybe twenty patches disappaered in her purse. This pendejo wouldn't even miss them, mobbed as he was by the desperate and foolish. It would catch an easy four hundred later, or perhaps more favors from people who wanted a taste of it. Options, always options.

She started to chatter about the Troll pitfighter to everyone near her. Keeping her 'bubbly and innocent' voice, she talked about how she'd seen him in Miami in an Urban Brawl game, in Vegas as a boxer. Two lies became ten, ten became a hundred, and quietly the room started to shift. Her weapon was hope, and it was as deadly as any assault cannon round.

The Troll went down to a 'lucky' right cross that almost shattered his jaw. His opponent, a hulking Orc that sported enough bodyware to smell like Valvoline raised his fist in triumph, and the bookie matched him. As the crowds started looking around for that bubbly black-haired bitch that lost them all their money, they found that she was gone.
====

Her credstick two thousand nuyen fatter, and her purse a pack of Tempo lighter, she sashayed towards her favorite bar. She could pay for her prescription, give Carmen her half of the rent, and another day was spent doing something while waiting for the big score.

Part of her knew that she couldn't keep waiting, that she would have to go out and take it. The not-so-gentle reminder came every time the hiss of her inhaler shot another dose of medicine into her lungs. The time was coming soon.

Still, tonight would be celebrated with a drink. Tomorrow she would get her medication, and then she would talk to Sergei and Sister Mary about something more...substantial.

[Abschalten]

Kudos, Doc Chase. Very nice. Man, you guys are making me look bad. How in the hell is my writing going to compete with what you guys are mashing out so effortlessly? (IMG:style_emoticons/default/frown.gif)

@Mister Juan - You know, for some reason the song "Filth Pig" by Ministry reminds me a whole bunch of Dexter. I was listening to it in the car just now and thought the lyrics reminded me of his "situation."

[Doc Chase]

You set the stage, we just act on it. (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nyahnyah.gif)