IC: Post or Die, Lifelines, and deadlines Options

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:02 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

As Acme walked out of the Rover, he dusted his jacket off. The AmerInd elf had a certain look about him, and not just from the odd clothing under the long duster, that sort of screamed shaman. It didn't help that he was spending a bit of time staring off into the distance before blinking and walking forward like he had figured things out already.

Knocking on the door of the Rover as he showed his hands to show he wasn't packing anything, he looked to the three waiting for him. "Hey there hi there ho there," he announced, trying to be professional but being stuck in a hard car with no control over it had worn that away. "The Mizz Johnson with the good body but ball bearings for eyeballs sent me over about this whole problem with a certain spider-handled individual." He smirked and bowed his a bit, his long black hair sliding around his shoulders. "I'm Acme, and I'll be your spirit-talker for this shindig. Before y'all say anything, yes I realize that the last holder of this slot has retired the easy way so I'll make sure and let Coyote know that I'll need to borrow his luck... Or his ability to come back from the dead."

[HugeC]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:02 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Thirty offers Acme a hand to shake and says, "Welcome aboard. You can call me Thirty, I'm the guy with the sword." He grins and pats Kanjin in its scabbard on his belt, then adds, "Fair warning, chummer: we're probably heading back into the Barrens. I'll do my best to keep us all alive, and any help you could offer on that score would be appreciated."

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:02 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett


Professor extends a hand, "Welcome. I'm 'Professor'. I gather information and analyze it. Glad to see another mage on the team. Our other one is asleep upstairs at the moment. A couple of other teammates are around, and we have a subject we just interrogated over in the infirmary."

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Ferret gives a fake cough as he steps out from behind the Professor.

"I'm right here, prof."

He wipes his hand on his trouser leg, adding a smear of nanopaste and solder to an existing stain, and offers it to Acme.

"Hi, I'm Ferret. Guess I'm the team decker, or hacker, or whatever they call us matrix jockeys these days. Like the prof, I find information too. If it's somewhere on the matrix, I can ferret it out. I can also fix up pretty much any electronic gizmo or gadget you might have, and can find my way around Redmond without getting shot at. Which might prove rather useful in finding these missing trucks."

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

"Hey new guy!" Oswald shouted from the back. "You got any healing mojo? There's a guy in the room down there who might be able to use a demo. Regrowing bone is probably easier than installing a plate in his skull."

Oswald began his long journey from the rear of the warehouse.

"Speaking of our friend on the gurney, I don't hear him screaming. You two didn't finish him off after you sucked his brains dry, eh Prof? Regardless, what are we going to do with the fellow? Offer him sanctuary, dump him on the outskirts of town, or just off the poor irradiated bastard?"

Oswald's goggles were slowly turning as he approached, keeping Acme in focus.

"Hah! That explains it! I wondered why you would be sitting on the driver's side floor space of my SUV! An elf! Well Daisy, the seats aren't real leather. It's safe to sit in them without incurring the wrath of the earth mother.. hahahahaha! You just spent a half hour sitting on the floor for no damn reason!" Finally reaching them, Oswald came to a stop. "I like you! You're funny! Commander Oswald Shankles, call me Oz. This is my space... and this is my lovely one-armed assistant, Danny." He gestured to the beat-up robot which had been following at his heels. He put his hand to his mouth and whispered too loudly, "I've programmed him so that he can only respond with Roger Murtaugh's lines from the Lethal Weapon movies."

"Anyway, let's go see to the prisoner, shall we?" He stated, turning and beginning the slow walk to the southern reaches of the warehouse floor.

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Acme shakes each man's hand in turn as they all announce their roles on the team. "The Barrens can be fun to deal with, I can see if I can shake something out," he replied, thinking out loud. His old contacts might not have pull all the way to the Barrens, but it was worth a shot. "But as for my help, I can fight, I can heal, I can talk... Coyote teaches his followers to be jacks of all trade so we can watch our tails out there, so don't worry about pigeonholing me."

But then Oswald came to the fore and from his demeanor, one could tell that if he had canine ears they'd be flat to his skull, a poor first impression for a Trickster. "Look, I'm not like you, I prefer to actually drive the effing car I'm sitting in. You may trust your robots ta make sure you don't crash but then again you also don't think twice about having your insides rust from all that metal." He stuck his tongue out and then looked to the Professor, feeling that even though he seemed to be a hermetic, that they'd get along best.

"So, using the Torquemada school of information gathering, eh? I can dig it. You needed me to heal?" Brushing off Oz for now, he pointed to where the others had been indicating the prisoner was.

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor leads the way to the surgery. "Actually, our friend is hurt because Oswald here shot his bike out from under him. We didn't have to touch him. He was very cooperative. Yes, he could do with some reknitting of bones and such.

"As far as what to do with him, I think sequestering him where he can't warn anybody would be good, until we have the cargo secured. After that, send him off to his lady love and let them head to parts unknown, as was their plan before we showed up."

He speaks an aside to Acme. "When you are free for a moment, I wouldn't mind talking with you about your spells. I have the capability of sustaining a spell cast on me, but the other mages in or passing through this group have had a .... an interesting selection, none of which was suitable for someone just wanting to stay out of the way of bullets and such."

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Acme nodded, following after Professor, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's actually better to hear anyway," he replied as they walked to the surgery. "I'm not really that fond of cold-blooded co-workers. They tend to have no sense of humor. I'll see how well I can heal the guy; we can figure out where to hole him after I'm done... Maybe somewhere fun like the ACHE or something." He snickered darkly.

He thought about the question, then after a quick blank look at Professor's aura, he nodded. The man wasn't a hermetic like he thought, so they'd be counting on the spells Acme had. "Well I've learned a few offensive spells, with a good section of defensive; invisibility and changing my appearance."

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:03 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor stoically endures the sign of camaraderie a dwarf usually gets. "Why do the tall ones always put their hand on your shoulder?"

"That sounds great, Acme. It will make my life easier... maybe longer, too."

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Acme found the biker on the gurney unconscious. He was breathing ok. His aura was tired, and he seemed a little low on blood, a fact that was made aparent by the floor as much as anything.

Ferrets comm spoke up again <<Beetle@Ferret: If its a short trip to nuke town I wouldn't sweat it. You picking this stuff up, or do you want me to send somebody?>>

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Acme knelt next to the bed, getting a general feel for the poor soul. He wasn't that worried about the blood, though he stayed out of it so his leathers wouldn't get dirty. He learned from lots of experience how hard it was to get blood out of buckskin... Taking the man's pulse he nodded. Shrugging out of his jacket a bit, he started to close his eyes, placing one hand upon the man's chest. Muttering prayers to the spirits in his home language, it sounded sing-songy, the old chants that he'd learned from the old Trickster to mend flesh. It wouldn't take that long, a few minutes at most, but it was enough that if Professor was looking at him, he'd see sweat bead up as his form took that of a coyote, his eyes opening to look amber and tawny brown and white fur almost sprouting from his face...

With the end of the spell's duration, he leaned back, visibly tired and letting out a sharp breath. "Woof, wasn't able to do a hell of a lot but he'll live." He looked back to Professor, his eyes still coyote-amber for a minute or so.

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett
<<Beetle@Ferret: If its a short trip to nuke town I wouldn't sweat it. You picking this stuff up, or do you want me to send somebody?>>

<<@Beetle: We'll be in Redmond this evening anyway, so I'll just swing by. I will have a few people with me, so if you don't want me coming over to your place, let me know where we can meet up.>>

"My fixer has some respirators and something to help grease the wheels with his contact in the Stilleto's. He's gonna send me a location for a meet, but I'll need some cred for expenses as my account balance aint looking too good at the moment. He also says radiation won't be a problem as long as we don't plan on moving in down there."

"So, what's the plan? I mean, apart from drinking watered-down synthahol and checking out some ugly-ass strippers until either this 'Rusty' fellow or my contact with the Stiletto's shows."

[Red-ROM]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

"mr. Jameson" was in considerably good shape now, after kissing a plastcrete wall at thirty miles an hour, but he seemed to sleep through the healing process. A light rain began to fall. The sunlight dimmed a little behind the clouds.

[Sephiroth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, Jovan's mind, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Jovan stood on an aged wooden stage in the middle of an ancient English theatre. The aisles were empty - the audience had left the building a short while ago. No doubt most of them were out at their favorite pubs and taverns, drinking and singing and being merry. The night was still very young, and the lanterns of the theatre glowed with a fresh light.
" O, my lord, if my duty be too bold, my love is too unmannerly," said a voice from behind him.

He turned around. Standing behind him was the woman in a black dress, staring at him with eyes that glowed fierce blue. Ms. Johnson. He raised a single brow in an expression of indifferent perplexity. " I do not well understand that." He took a step forward, offering her a recorder instrument that had not been in his hand before. "Will you play upon this pipe?"

The blue-eyed woman shook her head. "My lord, I cannot."
"I pray you."
"Believe me, I cannot."
"I do beseech you.
"I know no touch of it, my lord."

He dismissed her excuse with a wave of his hand. " 'Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music." He gestured toward the various knobs on the instrument. "Look you, these are the stops."

The woman stared back at him innocently, shaking her head again. "But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony; I have not the skill."

Jovan smirked knowingly. "Why, look you now, how unworthy a thing you make of me!" He approached the woman slowly, with his voice carrying more forcefulness now as he continued. "You would play upon me; you would seem to know my stops; you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; you would sound me from my lowest note to the top of my compass: and there is much music, excellent voice, in this little organ; yet cannot you make it speak." He drew close, his face just a foot from hers. His voice grew quieter, and his sharp incisors were clearly visible as he spoke. "'Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe? Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, yet you cannot play upon me."

The woman's face changed. Now he was looking upon the face of a troll in overalls. Now he was looking upon a snake with twelve tongues. Now he was looking into the headlights of a cargo truck.

As the scenery changed surrealistically, Jovan wondered to himself what it was that linked these things together. That hidden force that threaded itself like gravity between everything that had happened, the underlying motives that had put this chain of events in motion. He wondered aloud, to both the woman and the troll, "What are you hiding?"

[HugeC]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Thirty strokes his chin with his left hand, his right hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. He lazily paces back and forth as he considers the intel the team has gathered and what they might do with their erstwhile guest. The possibility that Mr. Jameson might alert Big Daddy about the team's intent seemed benign; BDLL must already know or at least suspect that his former employer would hire someone else to recover the goods. Jameson might be inclined to hamper us if we let him go, Thirty reasons. After all, we blew up his bike, gave him a concussion, and had a vampire interrogate him. That would probably make me want a little payback. But, if he can't remember that it happened...

<@team: Is it among our capabilities to have Mr. Jameson forget his stay at Chez Oz? If so, we could just take him somewhere appropriate, like his club or his girlfriend's place, and leave him there while we track down Rusty.>

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Oswald scanned the diagnostic screen. Aside from the persistent radiation burns, he looked pretty alright. Massive bruising had followed, but his already dark skin didn't show it too readily. Just dark splats like coffee stains under his already brown skin.
<<@team: Even knowing nothing of us, if we cut him loose, that other 'team' might pick him up. That would make him a liability if they're not already looking for Rusty. If they are looking, then we're already a day behind. He can stay here until he wakes up. In the mean time, you boys can decide if you want to use the man as bait, or just leave him here under my watch until we find this next fellow. Me, I've been awake for over 48 hours and I'm hungry. Anyone wants something to eat can meet me in the mess.>>

He turned to the Shaman, whose eyes still shone like light through a glass of bourbon. "Solid work, Wiley. You just saved a man days of painful recovery. I hope he puts it to good use and gets out of that toxic pit before it kills him." And with that, the sour old man was out the door and on the long trek to the kitchen.

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

<<@team: I'd say keep him here for now. Once we have the trucks, we can drop him off back at his place in the Barrens. I don't have anything on hand that would make him forget, but might be able to get hold of something if necessary.>>

At the mention of food, Ferret's stomach rumbles. He scampers after Oswald as the old man hobbles toward the kitchen.

"Hey Oz, I've been meaning to ask. You're a tech-savvy guy. I'm gonna need a good stealth prog to sort out Thirty's registration at the DMV. You got something with a decent rating that I could crack or a line on someone who could get a hold of one for me?"

[pbangarth]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Professor looks over Jack, and figures he's not going anywhere. "So Acme, I hear there's some food. Coyote ever get hungry?" He starts after the others.

[Acme]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:04 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Acme stood and stretched with a yawn, feeling a bit woozy from the spell's effects, nodding a bit to the old man as he wandered in. This was going to be an interesting teamwork he could tell already. "Hmm, well hopefully your hospitality is better than your social skills." he muttered.

But as Professor looked to him mentioning about lunch, he nodded. "Don't need ta tell me twice, food is always good after magic. Or after sex. Or after a run... Hell, it's good anytime." Slipping his jacket back on, he followed the dwarf to the mess.

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:05 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Oswald thought about Ferret's request for a moment.
"Well, if you want to take a shot at them, I've got all my programs backed up on chips. You'd probably enjoy checking out my Spoof program. Might not have to live in a van if you can trick your way into better accommodations. Computer thinks it gets paid, ain't much different than if it does. My stealth program's not something to write home to mother about though.. But, yeah, I know a guy whose code stores are deep. He mostly writes his own stuff. Sells non-corp hack programs and keeps them updated for free. Gives away common programs as freeware. Pisses off the big boys pretty awful, that. Don't think he does any military-grade work, but, if he doesn't have what you need, he probably knows a pirate or cracker who does. Though, I can't attest for any softs he'd get from a third party."

Reaching the kitchen, Oswald filled up a glass of water, downed half of it in a gulp and then filled it again.

"Kitchen, pasta. Need to keep my carbs up... You can go ahead and have whatever you like Heka. Same goes for anyone else. The soy block should have plenty left." He said, getting Ferrets name wrong again. Sharp as he was sometimes, it was hard to tell whether or not he was doing it on purpose. "Cross ruins.. seems like a fitting place for a guy like me to die... A poison pit broken by Ares and broken by the world. Maybe I should tell fate to shove it.. just stay here... Hrmmmph."

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:05 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Distracted by the kitchen's AROs, Ferret takes a moment to respond.

"Great. I'll take a look at what you got, especially that Spoof program. The van's not so bad, actually. I mean, did you see the state of that coffin motel. Still, I might need to talk to your guy about a Stealth prog, if your's ain't any better than mine. Most of my stuff is basic off-the-shelf common use crap plus a bunch of hacking softs I wrote myself. But keeping those up-to-date is a pain, so anything more current that I can get elsewhere is a bonus."

Ferret flicks through the kitchen's menus in his head ordering up the most sugary, caffeinated and carbonated drink he can find. He also adds a soy steak and fries. He knows it's not the real thing but it's a lot better than the stuff he's been used to living off of down in the Barrens.

"Let's hope that nobody dies old man. You can at least stay upstairs in your blimp. Hell, I guess you could just send in a drone and stay here watching our biker buddy, Jack. Don't suppose your 'bot there can detect toxins?"

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:07 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Digging into the steaming plate of fake spaghetti with feaux-alfredo sauce, Oswald responded,"There's a reason cops don't go to that part of town. If they could get away with just hanging overhead, it wouldn't be such an issue, but one guy with a rifle and the patience to use it right can turn all that armor into a falling pile of scrap. I'd rather not go up in that thing during the daylight hours. I'd be a sitting duck and probably clue people into our presence. It could cost us all. No, if I go it'll have to be on the ground with the rest of you schlubs. As to a chem sniffer, I might be able to pull one out of my lab's safety system and juryrig it into ol' Danny here. That might be a good idea really. I'd want to pick up a Bullet proof vest for him though. Don't want him getting all blowed up again."

He forked another large mouthful and continued, "Anyway, if you want me to ask about getting you some pirated software, I'll see what's to be done. Maybe Thirty could front you some cred off his advance until the job's done? I'll let you work out payment while I make some inquiries."

[Notsoevildm]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:08 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Ferret savours the taste of the soysteak. He knows it's not the real thing, but frag, it's not like he'd know the difference anyway.

"Your robot got blown up? Was this on your last run?"

He wave a forkful of textured soy at the warehouse around them. "I guess you must be a pretty successful 'runner, Oz. You seem like you're doing pretty well for yourself."

With eyes half-closed he puts the fake beef into his mouth, chewing on it slowly. "Mmmm, your kitchen is pretty good too. I can't wait to see what progs you have. I'll bet they put the copied, cracked and plain old, off-the-shelf crap I'm running to shame."

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:28 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

After lunch, Ferret looks through the carefully ordered and labelled chips for Oswald's software.

"Nice, nice, nice. Ah, too bad! Your stealth program is pretty resource light, but it's no better than mine. Looks like I'm gonna have to tap Thirty for some cred. Wait a fraggin' minute, you guys got an advance? That bitch stiffed me!" Ah, frag her! You got any idea how much your guy would want for an optimized, ergonomic version of Mirrors V (Stealth 5)? Or something equivalent, or better, heh. Okay, where was I? Nice, nice, wow, you weren't kidding about this Spoof program. Nice. Nice... Man, I hope that slitch comes through with some of the progs she was running once we find these trucks. Otherwise, it's gonna me a week to crack all of these."

[Saint Sithney]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:28 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

After being corrected again that Ferret was not, in fact, Heka in disguise, Oswald broke down the situation as he had recorded it.
"Don't feel too bad. She's not the boss, so she has limited room to negotiate. As to the boss, well, of the seven of us who saw him, only three are left alive." Oswald pulled up his notes, "Lefty, whose arm that was on my work bench over there, was blown up in an attempt on the bossman's life. Otto, caught a piece of shrapnel to his aorta and bled out afterwards. I would have liked to reclaim his cyber, but Thirty over there seems to think that reverence for the dead takes precedent over the betterment of the living. Danny, as you can see, was mangled pretty badly. Heka and the Professor came out of it okay though. Benefits of making a small target I guess, ha! There was also Caper, who showed up to the meet in disguise and was reported killed soon after. Probably just took his advance and ran... Now wait a minute.. Heka should have still had his credstick... Thirty! Did you pocket Heka's advance as well as take his car? God damn, boy! I thought you weren't just another Trog! It's just like I've always said..."

[HugeC]

Friday, Sept. 11, 2071, 12:28 PM, Oswald's Warehouse, Merrill Creek Pkwy. Everett

Thirty leans against the wall, arms half-folded, and cocks an eyebrow at Oswald's seemingly endless torrent of speech. He fixes Oswald with a disapproving stare and says, "No, I didn't think to rob my recently deceased team-mate, and I only took his car because mine became his hearse. I know what you'll say," he continues, holding a hand up to forestall any comments from Oswald, "that the dead have no use for nuyen, and I have to agree. But the man had just died on my watch. Since I'm still young enough to have a soul, I was a bit shaken up, and how I might profit from his death wasn't foremost on my mind."

Drawing himself up to his full height, he adds, "By the way, you might want to avoid using the word 'trog' around orks and trolls who don't have an interest in your continued survival. Some don't take kindly to that kind of talk, and won't give you a pass just because you're a senior. I, on the other hand, find your old fashioned mindset quaint and endearing." He smiles, tusks poking out from the corners of his mouth, his face giving no indication that he's anything other than sincere.