Misanthrope's Masterplan [IC] Options

[SleepIncarnate]

Thinking on it, IC Princess sends an encrypted message back. I assume the legit copy has had its copy protection broken. Sure, send it my way. I'll send the creds yours.

Turning back to the others, she examines the map once more. "It would seem that the Spikes are the only target out in Tacoma, the furthest from us all. I suggest ignoring them for last to do a clean sweep of the closer targets. That way, we don't waste half our hour just in transit to and from their location. I would suggest hitting Humanis first, working our way to the Crime Mall to deal with the Chin, time permitting, moving on to the Skraacha for a more peaceful solution, all while I work the truck's systems in VR. That's a solid four targets, and if time allows, we can still hit up the Spikes after." She pauses, looking the others over. "Any counter suggestions?"

[pbangarth]

Willie does some figuring on his fingers. He doesn't really have to, but old habits die hard. "It sounds good for the close ones, but won't we be out of time for the Spikes for sure if we hit the truck where Belial said we can?"

[Crossbow]

@Smiley - The bartender shrugs and begins to mix and serve your large order as per your request while Sting and company leer at you from the other side of the bar like you're an intrepid mosquito that's about to be swatted. To your enjoyment he lines up a plate filled with shot glasses of the Daisy's finest whilst also setting up a case of a dozen bottles of generic brand vodka. After you slot him 480 (IMG:style_emoticons/default/nuyen.gif) that is.

Smiley slots the barkeep 600 from his new stick and passes him a shot. "I'll grab the case as we leave." Then he gives a toast, downs a shot and blows a kiss to Sting while giving her team the middle finger over his shoulder as he walks back to the table with the plate.

[SleepIncarnate]

IC Princess turns and looks to Willie. "Not if I hack the truck and have it meet us wherever. But yes, trying to hit all five is unlikely to succeed, since we can't split up."

[Koekepan]

Can Opener sighed again, and rubbed her forehead with one hand while slowly shaking her head.

"Time isn't the reason I wouldn't hit the Spikes, but fine. Whatever works. If Willie's OK with Smiley zapping the Skraacha, then I'm willing to patch his hide back together after the fact if it goes bad. You know they have shamans of their own, too, right? If the Queen of the Matrix here can jack a truck remotely, obviously that doesn't involve a lot from me, so I'll be on hand to patch up anyone who gets hurt whoring. Remember to wrap it well and tip your server. I'm pretty sure I can hit Humanis remotely in less time than it would take to drive there, but I might be tired afterwards so you better figure that in. I'd guess that a go-gang like the Ancients would prefer to drive everywhere with their engines screaming like angry sirens, so we might steal a march on them there. That means the only ones that require our presence in person are the Skraacha - and the pimp, if Smiley can't tempt him out with a bevy of elf girls for delivery - which might still be the lower risk and effort plan. But you know what? If they have the same targets, I can warn the Skraacha and the Spikes both faster than the Ancients can drive there, and we can concentrate on whores, junk food and bigotry."

Almost as an afterthought she says to herself: "Honestly, I know some people for whom that sounds like the perfect Friday night. Especially if the whores aren't getting paid."

[Mulcarn]

@All - As you finish with your preparations and battle planning the five of you leave and gather together towards the front of the stage. The lights in the Daisy Chain brighten a bit just a minute or so before midnight, and you’re surprised to see how the place has emptied out. It hits you a moment later that almost no one is left except for surly, serious-faced elves in Ancients green… and you! Scanning the crowd again as you hear the Chain’s heavy doors swinging shut, you do spot a knot of elves that don’t quite match the rest of the crowd. Most of them are in flashy urban wear, the comfortable jumpsuits that are popular with city couriers. Even as the rest of the club’s elves are paying attention to Belial and Sting as they hop on stage, you notice that the other group of outsiders seem to be eyeballing you right back; sizing you up a little, if you’re not mistaken. One gives your group a dismissive sneer, and one with bright blue hair shoots you a wink before turning her attention to the action on stage.

Sting’s been a leader of Seattle’s most infamous go-gang for over two decades, so you’d expect this sort of stare down to be totally dominated by her; at a glance, though, almost the opposite seems to be true. Belial is big and strong where she’s leaner and lankier than most elves. He looms almost half a head taller than she does, and there’s an infectious energy to him as he bounds onto the stage that Sting just doesn’t seem to match. Everyone knows elves don’t get old and weak very quickly, but there’s an undeniable youth and enthusiasm that Belial’s got and Sting… just doesn’t. The crowd of Ancients responds to it, too, with more than a few of them pumping their fists in the air and howling encouragements to him as the pair square off.

Sting’s flashing Opticon cybereyes sweep the crowd a heartbeat later, and silence falls. “Li-goro?” Belial beats her to the punch, cutting off whatever she may’ve been about to say. “Llayah,” she says with a nod. “We’ll stick with English where possible, to be polite to our guests.” Sting clears her throat, and continues. “You declared a chal’han, and I accepted an hour past. The terms of the challenge have been agreed upon, and our proxies prepared.” You can’t help but feel a little less than “prepared,” given the circumstances, but why nitpick? Her canine implants gleam as she gives Belial a wicked grin, interrupting the solemnity. “Last chance to back down, kiddo.” “I declared a chal’han and you accepted. My proxies are ready.” Belial’s trained singer’s voice carries smoothly, effortlessly. “And it’s nice of you to ask, granny, but I ain’t quittin’ now.” “Accepted and confirmed,” a dark-haired, dark-eyed Ancient says from just in front of the stage. “So let it be done.” “So let it be done,” the murmur of dozens of Ancients echoes the proclamation.

“I present my seconds,” Belial says, lifting one powerful arm to point at your group. Removing any doubt, a spotlight illuminates your section of the dance floor, lighting up your crew for every elf to see. “Goronagee but professionals, paid honestly for services to be rendered. I declare them Milessaratish for one hour. They are my arms and legs, my beating heart and clutching grasp. They stand for me, and I trust them to bring me glory.” “I present my seconds.” As Sting’s voice rings out, a second spotlight fires up and rings that group of non-Ancients you spotted earlier. “Our Laesa cousins, paid fairly for services to be rendered. I declare… ” You can’t hear the rest of her formal proclamation, as the Ancients in the crowd respond with a wave of muttering. There’s an audacity to bringing in soldiers of a rival syndicate to take part in an Ancients rite, and it’s obviously not sitting very well with the crowd in green. Belial might have youthful enthusiasm on his side, but Sting’s showing she’s still as bold and cunning as ever.

“You don’t own every elf in this city, kid,” she says to Belial when the mutters stop. He doesn’t seem fazed by her choice of seconds though, still sound in his confidence in his chosen team. Sting takes his silence for assent and continues the challenge. “Let them go forth and serve as our own, garbed in our colors, doing our will. Let them strike down our foes, lift up our friends, and bring riches to this ranelles.” “Let them go forth … and kick ass!” He says in response, stabbing his fist in the air, to the laughter and cheers of the crowd.

Belial peels out his Ancients cut, holding the worn leather up for everyone to see, then swings his arm in a wide arc to toss the vest towards your group. “I say if they’re doing Ancients work, so let the Ancients take the heat for it. Who’s in?" Sting’s faintly glowing cyberoptics roll at his gesture, and she makes no move to follow suit, herself. “These people are standing in for us, and doing our jobs tonight. I’m not lettin’ ‘em catch the flak for it, or go out there without showing the world who they’re working for.” Belial’s tone carries a bit more serious ring to it, now, and you can hear the leader he’ll grow into with just a hair more maturity. “We’ve only got a couple minutes before the rubber hits the road, people. Who wants to do the right thing, and lend our proxies some armor?” That bit of cajoling is enough to get a heap of jackets shucked off and sailing your way, and in a few moments each of you can take your pick—some of these Ancients obviously take their muscle implants and steroids very seriously! Even your Laesa rivals have all slipped Ancients green onto their elf-thin frames. Belial has hopped off stage and is slapping the bare arms of every Ancient who’s surrendered his cut, favoring them with smiles or fist bumps, handshakes or quiet nods.

“Thirty seconds to go-time,” Sting whoops out from under the spotlights, canines and cyberoptics flashing, light catching her chrome-gleaming nails as she waves towards the doors. “Everyone, out front! Proxies, get onto your wheels!” The race is almost on.

[pbangarth]

As is usually the case, Willie is first off the mark, grabbing a jacket that amazingly manages to fit him and his added armour, if just the slightest bit tightly.

"I guess for tonight I'm an elf! Hah! Never woulda thought that."

He starts for the door, then turns to wait for the others. "Their ride, too, I guess, huh?"

Hmmm. Whut's this inside the jacket?

[Thanee]

Selina

"I like that one," Selina had mentioned, when they noticed that other team, pointing her head towards the blue-haired girl. "She looks like she is having fun with it. Not so oh, I'm so serious like that other guy there." She gave her a friendly smile and a nod back.

"Take a good look at that group for me, Fiona. We need to know what we are up against."

Fiona started assensing the other team.

[ Spoiler ]

Assuming they are five as well...

#1 ("sneer") 1 hit
#2 ("blue") 6 hits
#3 4 hits
#4 5 hits
#5 5 hits

When the spotlight turned on them, she curtsied theatrically accompanied by a big smile. Looking at the offered Ancients garb, Selina wrinkled her nose a little. Did they even wash those over the last week? She picked a jacket, that looked small enough to fit her frame and, much more importantly, mostly clean.

[ Spoiler ]

What's in the pocket? 4

"And, while you are at it, maybe take a glance at our boss for tonight as well."

[ Spoiler ]

Assensing Belial 3 hits

As they went outside, she said to Willie: "Yes, tonight you are not standing tall, you are standing pretty!" Looking up to him and giggling slightly, the small elf added. "Though, I guess, you are still standing tall, too."

[SleepIncarnate]

As the crew moves out toward the performance, IC Princess sends a command to the Rover, telling it to open the rear hatch where she has her drone bay set up. She then sends commands to the fly spies and roto-drones, commanding them to take to the sky over the area and inform her of any other drones active nearby. Finally, she commands the Rover to close back up once more as she pulls up AR windows giving her feed from the drones.

I have eyes, and guns, in the sky. Once we know their ride, I can shoot out the wheels. This was sent as a message to the others on her team. Slotting you into the tac feed. Make sure your links have their video and audio recording on so it can better assist you. Any other sensory data you can feed it, like smart link, from other devices will help as well.

As the other team is revealed, she scans for signals, trying to identify any implants they may have, or see who is most likely to be her competition. Mental note, try to get to know blue hair better after the job is over.

And then, jackets are being thrown at her and she's back in the meat, looking for one that fits fine. Green is so not my color. Ah well, at least I can get by without the helmet tonight. It's a bit too identifiable as me. Going with the shades. What's this in the pocket?

[Thanee]

Selina

<< I would prefer, if we would not open any hostilities towards the other team. That would mark us as the spoilsports here. If they come at us, sure, just don't invite them. >>

[pbangarth]

Quick Willie

<<But if they do start something, I get to blow out their tires, right? And the radiator? And slice off their rear-view mirrors with pinpoint accurate full-auto fire?>>

[Crossbow]

Smiley takes a moment to consider the jackets, not for any style, but for a comfortable lining. He does keep hold of his though and puts it over the case of liquor as he hustles out. He knows a few places near where they are going, he tries to think of the one that probably has the seediest element. He is planning to incorporate it into his line.

<<Yeah, if they shoot, blow them to hell. Just get in the car, we have no time and places to be.>>

Smiley stows the case and gets in the ride.

[Koekepan]

Can Opener listened to the spiel impassively, looking rather like a broad-shouldered mushroom shaded by the brim of her bowler when the spotlight fell on them. A few sparkles glinted from the hardware on her jacket, and that was about it for fireworks from her. She barely spared the other team a glance.


"Well, whaddya know, it's mercs on that side too. Figures. We're just the entertainment in their stupid circus. If they posture any harder someone'll need a physiotherapist before the night's over. Oh yay, honourary elven gangster for the night. How super. I'm touched. And now I feel dirty."

She took one of the jackets thrown in their direction, and hooked it over her shoulder on a finger while hustling as quickly as dwarven legs would permit for the door; keeping up with others would always be a higher priority and a greater effort for her. One thing would help, and that was Quick Willie's broad wake, so she followed right behind him to the door.

Once just outside the doorway she turned and said: "Oi, Willie, that offer of a ride still open? Easier for me to cover you from nearby, and you said you had useful hardware in yours as well." She digs in a pocket of her own jacket with a free hand and pulls out what looks like a pack of cigarettes in neon hues, but doesn't do anything with it beyond holding it. "Besides, I hear you're real quick. Are your wheels quick too?"

[pbangarth]

"Yeah, well I don't know whut we ridin' in right now. The Ancient's boosted ride, the Princess's rigged Rover or my beast. I gotta get my SMG from mine if we go with some other truck. An' mine ain't any faster than hers, but on my bike, that's where I fly!"

Willie pops open his ride and slings the automatic over his shoulder. "Whutever we ride, stick close to me, C.O., and we'll bust sumthin' tonight. Yuh, know, this could be the beginnin' of a beautiful friendship, girl." He pats Can opener, about to on the top of her head, then redirects to her shoulder. One of those rare moments of sensitivity from the gutter punk.

[SleepIncarnate]

"Mine won't fit five. The backseat has been replaced with my rigger's black box, and the rear is the drone bay. I suggest we take theirs to make it clear we're working for the Ancients to our targets."

IC Princess makes her way out with the others, slotting a clip of SNS into the fichetti. "If you've got a secondary weapon, I suggest loading it with non-lethal rounds in case we run across our competition." She then sends an image of the five members of the other team to one of the fly spies, with a command to follow them covertly. The rest of the drones are commanded to follow her. Turning to the mages, she asks, "Did either of you get a read on them? I can update our information on them for that inevitable interaction."

With another set of commands, the Rover opens its rear hatch, the doberman gets out, and then after grabbing her go bag with the guardian, B&E gear, and the helmet, the Rover closes once more. "Let's load and go. The drone and I will lay out in the back."

[pbangarth]

Willie grins, "OK. Looks like I drive!" He grabs the rest of his gear and jumps into the driver's seat of the Ancients' stolen Rover. SMG stowed neatly and easily reached beside him, Ceska easliy reached in its holster, seatbelt well connected, Willie is ready.

The Rover's engine roars into life, and life gets a little better for Willie.

"Let's go," he shouts out the window. "Uhh," he speaks more softly. "where to, first?"

[Mulcarn]

@All - You all receive pats on the back, encouraging nods, and good-natured shoves towards the front of the pack as you and a tide of Ancients all rush for the doors at once. Carried along in a sea of green leather and pointed ears, you soon find yourself deposited by your loaner van which is emblazoned with an assortment of Ancients decals, stylized names and Celtic knotwork-even as every elf in sight is clambering onto their own iron steed. Racing bikes whine and shriek, Harleys let out their low-down growls, and headlights and honking horns ring through the air as the hunt draws nearer. There's a palpable energy in the air as you and the Laesa team saddle up, with Ancients lining the streets and roaring their encouragement.

Every sound dies as Sting's wiry form and Belial's powerful one take to the center of the street. They stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, with Belial facing you and Sting looking at her own proxies a short distance down the block. Sting's chrome hand razors catch the light again as she lifts her arms, and the monofilament edges of Belial's huge claymore shine in the gathered headlights. He chants under his breath for a second, and then Ancients-green names crawl along the blade, and you see Sting shake her head and sigh at the garish display. Then, suddenly, Sting and Belial sweep their blades through the night air, and every horn and engine blare at once: the race is on!

@Selena - "None of the Laesa team are augmented or awakened. At least, not as far as I can tell. I sense confidence within them. Pride. Determination. Steadfastness. Willfulness. They aim to win Skye. They're bringing their A-game, and so should you. Blue-haired one in particular doesn't seem all that worried. This is conjecture but I feel as if she knows she's already won and is simply enjoying the ride as it were.

Belial is about the same since I last assensed him. If anything he's even more confident than the Laesa team in his victory. Interesting, that claymore is a weapon focus from the looks of it. And from the way his aura shifts and moves along with it's particular "brightness", I'd say he's a magician like you. His proficiency in the Art is less than mine and yours though. Same with that weapon focus. Can't tell you it's actual force other than it's lower than mine."

[Thanee]

Selina

"Thank you, Fiona!"

<< Well, that's interesting. The Laésa all seem to be unaugmanted mundanes. However, they appear extremely confident in this, as if they had already won. Our boss is pretty darn confident himself, though. Anyways, that is all I can tell you about them at the moment. >>

[pbangarth]

As the two leaders drop their arms to signal the start, Willie shifts and fuels just right to make the Rover leap forward, just shy of spinning the tires and thereby wasting time. No cheap show tonight, we got a race to win, and we got the best driver.

[Mulcarn]

March 14th, 2073, 12:05 AM

@All - Ah, the Crime Mall. At times a bustling black market in a very literal sense, at others it's a vacant wasteland (for at least a few days after a dedicated Knight Errant sweep). For the last several months it's been busy as can be, offering up an assortment of stolen goods, "fell off a truck" discounts on electronics, second-rate street doc services, and all while putting a roof over the head of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of squatters.

Around back, at what used to serve as loading docks with big, truck-sized, bays, is where Jimmy the Chin does his work. Or, rather, where his girls work, and he reaps the benefits. Known as a dwarven Golden Gloves boxer with delusions of mob grandeur, Jimmy lost his Mafia connections to the Chicago ugliness years and years ago. The Chin was freelance muscle and enforcement for a while after that, getting his whole extended family into the business. Right now, they've all semi-retired from the overt violence racket, deciding that it's easy to snatch pretty girls off the streets and make them do the hard work.

As you pull around the ash-covered expanse of the Crime Mall parking lot, you spot him just inside one of the loading bays, dapper in black Actioneer suit, standing next to a space heater. About a half dozen girls hobble back and forth in front of him in spiked heels and little else. Another dwarf built just like Jimmy, all shoulders and no neck, squat and powerful-stands next to him, looking around and checking his watch while one of the girls is no doubt on the clock with a customer behind some "privacy" curtains hanging in the loading dock. The two dwarves have too much in common to not be related, so it looks like you'll have a pair of brawlers to deal with one way or another.

[SleepIncarnate]

After getting the doberman and herself laid out in the back of the Rover, IC Princess gives it a command to protect her, then dives into VR, flipping into hot sim.

<<That's good to know. I'm going to get to work identifying our specific truck and hacking it. I'll keep an eye through the feeds, and update target data as it comes in. Let me know if something comes up.>>

And then she begins a data search, trying to find what specific truck will be at the specified location at the specified time.

[pbangarth]

Willie

<<Drek. This looks too easy. I could kill him where he stands. Would that do?>>

[SleepIncarnate]

IC Princess

<<That could invite more trouble. Want me to get the drones on it?>>

[Thanee]

Selina

Forcing women into this kind of work was one of the worse things, Skye could imagine. It was right up there with a number of other atrocities. It might not take the top spot, but certainly somewhere within the top ten. She valued freedom and choice and those poor girls had neither. In conclusion, this put Jimmy rather low on her list of people she respected. She valued life, and he was still a metahuman, like everyone else. But this life could not quite measure up to that of others.

Still, there was a struggle inside her, between her personal outlook on life and her rapidly growing hatred for the dwarven pimp.

"So, how do we want to do this?" The words sounded a bit harsher than what the others were used to from her in the club.

[Mulcarn]

@IC Princess (Data Search from earlier) - They’re mostly Tír exiles. Every elf kid in Seattle that wants that type of life wants to be an Ancient, but the Laesa offer a second home to folks who’re on the run from Tír Tairngire. The Laesa are smugglers, particularly of drugs, like laes, which is almost their namesake. They make most of their money off old chemical narcotics, not BTLs. Never take a cigarette from one. Lots of their members used to be terrorists down in the Tír. When the revolution ended and they still weren’t happy, they took their skills and went freelance, instead of fighting for a cause. The mafi-elfies are starting to crowd the Ancients in parts of Puyallup, and neither group’s real happy about it. Laesa and the Ancients haven’t gotten into an all-out fight yet, and they’ll still band together against the Spikes or some other external threat… but the leadership of both groups are just too hungry for the same resources—Tír exiles, Portland smuggling routes, Tarislar turf, for this stand-off to last forever.

The autotruck is currently on the I-5 in Snohomish. Making it's course all the way down to Puyallup.