Ganger's Paradise, IC Thread Options

[klinktastic]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

It had only been a couple days since you'd moved into the dilapidated apartment build with your chummers from the Saints. No longer were you in the relative safe confines of the Shenandoah section that the Saints had on lock down. No, you were off to the Warzone now. Now was your opportunity to get the money and the power that you'd risen through the ranks wanting.

The Warzone, your new home, resides in the middle of the Aurora Warrens...the slums of Denver. Once an upscale shopping district before the Treaty of Denver, it was converted to high density, low income apartment blocks after the treaty. The Warrens is an infection and the Warzone was its point of entry. First to be abandoned, it's services have broken down to nearly nothing, but it's position on the major arteries of the area continue to ensure both its strategic importance and its economic value to those who vie for it. Vast stretches of this area are utterly ruined, but still densely populated. At the very core of this infection lies the ruins of TinkerTown.

Some six years after the main structures collapse, the automated defenses finally seem to be offline and the ruins settled. After that, the Golden Talons, had taken control of the Warzone and benefited mightly from its location. Their rise to power in the Warrens is only eclipsed by their fall. Making enemies of other local gangs, including the Saints, and other criminal syndicates, they were nearly systematically wiped out in what was all but called a "genocide of a gang" by the Denver media.

Needless to say, their old territory freed up. Now you're newly formed gang, an offshoot of the Saints, trying to get a foothold in the Warzone. In your first days, you were able to consolidate your block, get the girls working the corners, and start dealing some low level drugs. It wasn't going to be easy, but hey, what in your miserable life ever had been. The Saints, well more importantly Gabriel the main man, had a vested interest in your success. Giving you some initial funding and support in the form of five street level thugs, you were in prime position to exploit the Warzone.

After a short day's work, you were stretching out in the common room of your apartment complex. They day was old...but the night was young and there was a lot to do....

[J. Packer]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

In what used to be called a “Community Center” fifty-odd years ago, the fledgling gang had started to amass some toys. The middle of the room held an old pool table, the felt worn away and in some places torn, which allowed for some really interesting trick shots. It occupied the bulk of the space, but it was ringed on all sides by a motley array of abandoned couches and chairs.

One of those chairs, a recliner in synthetic leather with a broken mechanism that meant it was always in a reclined position, had been claimed by Princess. She was laying on it, wrong – her legs hanging off one arm, while her back rested on the other, her commlink in her lap as she paged incessantly through catalogs and magazines.

“Guys, check this out,” she called to the other gangers, tossing any of them that had their comms handy AROs to look at. “For a cool two and a half mil, you can get these: Instantiate 3000 military-grade Synaptic Boosters. Totally wiz, make you so fast people can’t even see it happen.”

With a wistful expression, she declared “Someday, I’ll get them to replace these tacky old wires in my spine with drek-hot bioware.” She started to pout. “Someday. Right now, I can’t even afford the fiber optic hair I talked to Ernie about. Someday I’ll be pretty…”

Never one to stay morose for long, she hopped up out of the chair, approached the table, and began to gather the billiard balls into the rack. “C’mon, who wants to play? 25Y a game? Mama needs a new ‘do…”

[Digital Heroin]

Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone

There is a lot to say for new digs - well there is for most new digs - but when your new digs are in the middle of a place called the Warzone, and they used to belong to the gang that ran the place, things can get a bit dicey. Dicey like finding that the room on the top floor you scooped was full of old needles. Yeah, not exactly a fun happy clean up, that. But the view was worth it. It was a world dominating corner room on the top floor of the building, which, given the structural integrity of the building, might seem unsound, but Kid was more than happy with it. Now that the needles were gone, and the old mattress burned, he actually had a place to crash that was his own, even if there were other guys from the gang down the hall.

And yet here he was, as he had been almost every night since they got here, lounging upon a sofa in the common room. Hell, the sofa was comfortable, and there was beer. But there was serious business to be done, and he knew it, so he had limited himself for the moment to an even two, and was nursing the second one while he waited for the others to gather. Headphones on - playing a retro Infected Mushroom track - Kid leans back and idly watches as Trixie, his virtual personality, rave dances in miniature upon his knee.

Kid blinks when Princess tosses an ARO into the space in front of Trixie, and he shuffles it off to the side. Half paying attention to it. `Two and a half mil? For wires? Princess you're insane. I ever score two and a half mil I'm buying a Bugatti Thur, and a couple of cheap Maseratis... pay two of the homeless drunks down the block to crash the Maseratis into each other.` Ok, so he was probably insane himself, but 'if I won the lottery' never was about sanity, it was about dreams.

Kid waves off Trixie and grunts. `Play you? I know you'll just end up pocketing my last twenty-five. Hell, when are the others getting in? I've got the itch to go crawling about, walk the new turf.`

[BlackHat]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Standing in the corner of the room, Pusher leaned against the wall and watched the others interacting. It wasn't unusual for him to be skulking around, voyeuristicly watching the other gang members, instead of joining in with whatever they were up to. Princess was going on again about all the junk she would cram into her body when she becomes a millionaire. As if. She was an interesting case, psychologically. Pusher liked to watch her. This whole new gang - the Tin Gods - were pretty much all head cases. He should know. He liked to watch them all, but he could tell he weirded most of them out. That was fine. He wouldn't fit in if they didn't think he was a head case, too. He probably wouldn't even be alive. He looked around the room, again, taking in the faces he saw. One of these misfits would have probably geeked him months ago if he wasn't so useful to the gang, and so dangerous when provoked. That was pretty much true of everyone in the room. That was what made their dysfunctional dynamic so interesting to him. So interesting. To watch.

Kid went on about how he would waste the money he'd never have, and how he wanted to go prowl the turf like a territorial lion. He was an interesting case, too. Pusher had seen the way he used others - not that way that Pusher did. Kid was a whole other kind of messed up, but Pusher found he presence in their little squat so interesting. He wondered, if the others went out to prowl the turf, if he would be able to follow. Would they let him tag along? Would they let him watch them? It was certainly within his power to give them the idea, but he liked to watch their messed up brains work. Most people avoided him because they thought he might be messing with their minds. Perhaps it made them feel more normal to have someone around they could blame all their strange deviant thoughts on. He continued to watch them.

[sabs]

Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone

Norgal had cleared out a part of the basement for himself. Having cleared away most of the crap, and built himself some shelves, he was quite happy with his new digs.
His armor hung off a manequin, and most of his weaponry was stowed in the shelves. All he had on was his everyday walk around stuff. A Key tunic, a wide leather belt with an axe tucked into it. Norgal went upstairs and grabbed himself a couple of beers. "2 and a half mil? You're slam crazy Princess. If I had that kind of loot, I'd build myself a real Fortress." Speaking of Crazy, Norgal fit in pretty well with the dangerous but crazy atmosphere of the Tin Gods.

"Think we need to walk the streets. Make sure people know we're around and not to drek with us? Or we just going to party like it's 2099."

[BlackHat]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:30pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Pusher slinked from the corner, keeping his eyes on Norgal as he passed the walking anachronism on the way to the stairs. "I'll get my jacket," he said quietly. Pusher didn't think any of the others would really care, or wait up for him, for that matter. He would have to be fast. He wouldn't want to miss anything.

[J. Packer]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:32pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

"C'mon, you guys. Even Pusher'd like them. Top of the line, limited damage to magical potential, and slinging spells at a furious pace!" She looks over at Pusher and then looks away. Seemed like he was always staring at her...

When nobody offers to play pool with her, she pouts a little, but when things start to look up for heading out, she perks right back up again.

"What'd'ya think guys? Is it rifle weather, or sword weather?" She holds up her sheathed sword and her Remi 950, and bites her lower lip like she's deciding which color of purse to take.

[Digital Heroin]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:32pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Kid sits up with a weary grunt, and cants his head over Norgal's way. He arches a brow, and considers just what kind of fortress old man crazy would build. Probably something all spartan and stone and moody, with all sorts of armor in the hallways and tapestries. Not even AR tapestries. The real honest to someone spent way to much time weaving them type.

`You're right, we need to remind people we're they're new neighborhood watch now. Well, neighbourhood watch, pharmacy, and orgasm facilitators. Hell, we're their Stuffer Shack. One stop shopping.`

He stands, and looks on over to Pusher. Kid nods, and gestures for him to head to pick up his jacket. `Go on, Pusherman, we'll wait for you.` A look over to Princess, and he puts some thought to it. `Why not both?`

Seriously, he never did understand why anyone would not kit up to the nines for a walkabout. You have to rep hard in the streets, and you never know what you are going to need. He picks up his own jacket from where he had tossed it on one of the tables and sluffs into it.

[BlackHat]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:32pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Pusher returned shortly, ready to head out for the night. Unlike the others, he didn't seem to be heavily armed at all. In fact, most of the Tin Gods knew he didn't even own a gun. He knew how to use one, but he wasn't that good a shot. According to reputation, he didn't need one. He could just sort of make your brain go 'pop'. Of course, to anyone who didn't know him, he didn't look that intimidating at all.

[sabs]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SiN = Drek You Lone Star!

Norgal gruffly went downstairs into the basement. "Gimme a kuplamins." About 8 or 9 minutes later Norgal came back up dressed up to 'Represent'. He had on a suit of chainmail, a helm, and a cloak. The cloak was grey, and trimmed with the colors of the Tin Gods, he'd just gotten it made special before they expanded down into the warzone. He was strapping pretty seriously, Dragon Spitter, and Scorpion were clearly visible, as well as that rediculous axe he was so fond of.


"Alright, les go make ourselves at home." He says, followed up with a really impressive belch.

[klinktastic]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

The only local gang to contest your new territory is an all Amerind gang known as the Dog Warriors. They run the block north of you and were looking to expand into your block before you came in and snatch it up before them. The Dog Warriors aren't your typical sprawl gang. They don't sell drugs, flesh, or anything. They're brutes. They mug, murder and steal to make a living. They've encroached on your territory a few times, just to beat up some street urchins. You've never had a direct confrontation with them, but you've heard they like to unleash semi-rabid dogs on their victims to run them down, like a hunt.

[Isinghar]

The Marquis
[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SIN = Alphonse Francois


The Marquis slowly walks into the main living area of the rundown apartment, a young woman in a tight synthleather bodysuit, a spiked dog-collar and leash crawls on all-fours behind him. He sneers at Princess as he strolls by her and lightly touches her chin and trails a sharp fingernail along her jawline. Stopping behind the pool table he chains the "bitch" to a hook hanging from the ceiling, that stays taut, choking her slightly, "Do not stand, Bitch" he whispers and dismisses her from his mind as he turns to the rest of the gang.

"Getting ready for a night out", it's a statement not a question, as he buttons-up the shiny silver clasps on his leather overcoat and ruffles the lace shirt that's tailored to poke out from under the coat. While he waits for Norgal he takes out his little make-up kit and touches up his face and eyes.

[Digital Heroin]

The Kid
[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SIN = None

There were a lot of things in the world that Kid just did not mind. Lifestyle is lifestyle, and people are what they are. Pusher's mind games might mess with a lot of people, but Kid does not worry; Norgal's layered up in armor straight out of the middle ages, yet packing heat, but Kid just finds that quirky; Princess is, well, Princess, but she's true to who she is. Marquis on the other hand grinds Kid the wrong way on some level. It is not enough that he cannot stand the guy, but there is something about the whole d/s thing that struck Kid wrong. Yes, the sub in such a relationship is supposed to be the one with the true power, but Kid grew up around ladies of the night, and he has seen enough assholes take things who did not know the power dynamic, or who frankly did not care. He has watched the fallout of guys ignoring safe-words, hell, his first time pulling a trigger was putting a rabid asshole down who went too far and flayed flesh off the back of one of his 'aunts.' In the Warrens it is all too easy to find women who forget that they have power, and who are willing to take abuse. He still has not known Marquis enough to know if he is the type to step over the line, but if he is, well, there might be trouble in the future, fellow Tin God or not.

Kid shakes off the thought, and picks up the rig for his concealed holster. After he secures the holster in the small of his back he draws and checks his Manhunter for load out and laser sight battery - a manual check, because with a firearm it just seems the right way to do thing. When he has re-holstered the pistol, he looks to the others. `We see any Doggies, we gonna put them down?` They were new on the turf, the Dog Warriors were the more established, but they were assholes, and they were prime targets for sending a message.

[J. Packer]

Princess
[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:42pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SIN = Rachel Stevens

Princess hated it when Marquis did things like that to her. And she hated how much she loved it. She wasn't sure just how much of her story Marquis knew, but he was one of very few in the gang that treated her - well, not like a lady, but... She extended and retracted her hand razors, a nervous tic.

To hide her discomfiture, Princess jacked a round into her rifle, the manual action of the bolt a comforting familiarity to cling to. Slinging the rifle, she called down the stairwell into the basement "Shag it, short stuff. We don't have all night!" The sword belt went on overtop her skirt, hidden under the long jacket.

[sabs]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SiN = Drek You Lone Star!

Tromping up the stairs. "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Princess" Norlag settled the goggles over his eyes. "Lets go stomp some doggies, or who ever else shows up." He had that look in his eyes. "Marquis, you gonna have any new meat that needs some good dwarf lovin' Havent gotten to break the basement in yet.."

[BlackHat]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:40pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

"I wonder," Pusher says quietly, as though simply thinking aloud. "...how different is a dog's brain from one of ours, really." When he got to the door, he added, "I think I would like a pet dog."

[klinktastic]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:45 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

You hit the block to show face, see how the hookers are doing and make sure the dealers are well stocked. You aren't on the street long before you get a commcall in, one that blows up all of your commlinks at the same time.

<<Jellybean@Bosses - The Dog Warriors are harrassing the joytoys. They're killing business up here. Too many of them for my to drive off.>>

[sabs]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:45 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
Norgal laughs. "Well that didn't take long." He winks at Princess. "I call dibs"

He turns towards the area of the block where the joytoys practice their trade. "Lets go kick some Doggie Ass"

[BlackHat]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:45pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Pusher struggled to keep up with the others as they headed toward the disruption. He wasn't in the shape that most of them were in, but he knew if he fell to far behind, there wouldn't be any Dog Warriors left when he got there.

[J. Packer]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:45 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

<<[Princess]@Jellybean: We're inbound, keep us posted. And let the rest of the boys know. I want eyes on the situation so we don't walk into an ambush.>>

Princess's long legs let her keep up with Norgal easily. "How about I just sidle in with the rest of the girls and see if I can draw some of them out? Sounds like there'll be plenty to go around, but Jelly's not necessarily a reliable witness." She liked Jellybean well enough, but he lacked the killer instinct, and it made him too cautious for her tastes.

[Digital Heroin]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:45 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]
PAN = Hidden | SIN = None

Kid is as enthusiastic as anyone about putting the Dog Warriors to heel, but he lingers, and sticks with Pusher. He is not the front line combat type anyway, and he has not had a chance to skulk the neighborhood as thoroughly as he wants quite yet. The defenses of long ago are dead, but he still wonders if anything is lingering. Kid adjusts his sunglasses, and pulls a set of gloves from his pockets. He slides the gloves on, and with a thought opens an AR window. He reaches to his belt and thumbs on the radio signal scanner, mentally interfacing it with his commlink. While he has programs that can sniff out signals, nothing it quite as robust as the Sniffer onboard the scanner. While they walk, Kid reaches up with one of the gloves to manipulate the AR window, and open up a search for nearby devices.

`Pusher, man. If I need to go full VR you mind covering my back?` He does not expect it, but it would be good to know he has someone who wears the colors aware me might to suddenly fall over.

[klinktastic]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:50 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

You round the corned to see Jellybean, a fat ork wearing odd sex fetish clothing (mainly black leather and chainmail) with a knife out, standing in front of girls. Across the street you see three of the Dog Warriors, two of them holding rabit-looking dogs on leashes. They're yelling at Jellybean, calling him also sorts of names. They're blatantly disrespecting your crew and their girls look really scared. Jellybean, notices you guys and cracks a smile despite his weary face.

Kid notices a handful of signals, but they're transmitting from your side of the street. The Warren's don't have any traffic cameras, or well at least not that many. You've noticed some cameras, but they're mostly along the borders of the Warrens, so the rent-a-cops can make sure you don't get into actual civilization.

[J. Packer]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:50 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Kicking in her wired reflexes, Princess shudders at the sensation that runs down her spine. Walking - no, sashaying - over to stand next to Jellybean, she puts her hands on her hips.

"Aw, look, they're on a double date!" she yells at the two holding the dogs. "How sweet of you to bring your bitches along with you, puppy boys. And you, poor thing," this to the third ganger, "fifth wheel on date night. Tsk, tsk."

[sabs]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:50 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

Norgal sighs, "By Kazak's Beard. They're pissin me off." He doesn't bother to go stand next to Princess or Jelly. He just walks right towards the group of gangers, turning on his wired reflexes as he does. "Hey Dog Breath. I don't like it when you bring your bitches into my territory. Get them the hell out, before I beat you senseless." What's.. amusing.. if you want to use that word, is that he's talking to one of the Dogs, and not the Dog Warriors holding their leashes.

[klinktastic]

[Monday April 4th, 2072 | 6:50 pm | Denver, Warrens, Warzone]

They start to direct their insults to you, as Norgal approaches them. "Frag you! Your whores...they look like trogs. Wouldn't pay nothing for one of them!"

The one not holding a dog leash brandishes a pistol once Norgal's had his say. ""You're on our turf stubby! You step the frag back, or I'll blow you away!" You all start getting a sense that your beef with the Dog Warriors might be reaching a crescendo.