[X] My Assistant

[Bastard]

Karma locks eyes with the man as he is pulling his knife. They start to widen as they see two barrels pointed at him, but before he can fully shit his pants, he is pelted with a burst of gel rounds in the face.

[Koekepan]

The man with the knife disappears behind his partition. At a guess, if he's not unconscious, he has a freshly broken nose. His stricken buddies around the floor continue to moan and vomit.

The staff and customers are doing their best to hustle out of the line of fire. The old couple are heading for the door to the moorings again (fortunately for them, not far off) and the two earlier patrons are legging it, heads down, for the front door.

The man on the left, nearest Blue, pops up with something that looks a lot like a cross between a flashlight, a vacuum cleaner attachment and an airhorn in his hands. It makes a meaty THWUP sound, and a tangle of weighted paracord flops over the booth where Blue is hiding. Then he starts to clamber over the partition to try to approach Blue, not apparently making the connection that he has utterly failed to disable Karmakaze, and that he makes a pretty nice target.

Blue, on the other hand, while not entangled (given that he had his hands in his pockets) would definitely have to work at it to move away from where he is. Nets; they don't do much, until they do, and then they're pretty effective.

[pbangarth]

Blue had his heart set on making a fashion statement about that t-shirt. Then the damn fool ducked behind cover, making it hard to hit him with a newly-cast-in-the-daytime spell that only stunned. Powerbolt it was going to be.

Then, miracle of miracles, the guy in the booth to the left decided to make himself a clean target! An ordinary man would have switched to shoot at the nearest, easy target. But not Blue. Let Karmakaze take care of this idiot. Will of steel, focused on t-shirt boy, he let a Powerbolt fly at the harder target.

[ Spoiler ]

-OOC- Powerbolt item #1. #2 would likely be better, but this makes a teachable moment for Blue: use the better casting of the spell on a difficult target.

[Koekepan]

Mister Fancyshirt is having a very bad day. He had a cunning plan all worked out. It was going to involve using the table as a mantlet of sorts, to reposition himself more favourably and thereby turn the tide of battle from a rough start to an epic victory, which would surely lead to his glorious recognition by various forces as a true master of the art of impromptu street combat. Plaudits, money and sexual partners would only be a matter of time.

Then Blue sent a powerbolt right up his leg. The full consequences are shielded from Blue's and Karmakaze's immediate sight because the table falls over Fancyshirt, but Blue sees the clothing and flesh shred away from bone as if the claws of a gigantic owl had raked along his body. The other foot, visible in its spastic motions from under the wobbling table, smears shredded flesh residue on the tiles to the sound of a sort of gargling howl of agony.

The shirt's image glows somewhat from beneath the shade of the table, helping to illuminate a spray of blood that paints the tiles a startling shade of bright crimson.

[pbangarth]

Blue grunts in amazement at the effect of the spell. """Huh."""

[Bastard]

Karma spots the last target, who looks like he thinks he successfully snagged a shaman. Technically the attacker did have Blue snagged in a net, but technically, he also was just blasted with a 3-round burst from a Savalette Guardian.

[Koekepan]

The latest burst of gel rounds catches the climber right in the solar plexus. He makes a sound like a basketball hit with an axe, and pitches forward into an empty booth with a crash of breaking plates and crashing silverware.

The score now tilts to even; even, that is, if one discounts Blue under a web of synthetic fibres, and assumes that the fellow who took gel rounds to the face is substantially undisturbed, and just waiting to spring his trap on Karmakaze.

[Bastard]

Karmakaze holsters the Savalette, whips the folding stock out on the Ingram and brings it to a shouldered position.

"""Alright drekkers. Have you all had enough? Move if you want to get hit again. I'm just about out of the soft rounds, then it is killing time,""" she bluffed.

She scans the group ready to fire at the first one who moves.

"""You good, Blue?"""

[pbangarth]

"""Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. I'll summon a spirit to help get this net off of me, while you keep an eye on the boys. I'm not sure of the status of the one you shot in the face."" Blue chuckles to himself. Isn't that what 'runners do? Shoot people in the face for money? Except, this was to stay free.

While Karmakaze watches the attackers, Blue conjures a hearth spirit. Task number one: ::: take this net and drop it on the booth over there. :::. He points to the booth hiding face-smashed-in.

[Koekepan]

The staff of the diner shows no inclination whatsoever to stop Karmakaze. The other customers have left. The only third parties present are the goons that came to snatch a sea urchin, and got a hand full of spikes.

These worthies are, none of them, offering Karmakaze any resistance right now. The first two are still prostrate, and the last two are still in booths, one way or another. The wearer of the fancy shirt is now lying still in a spreading pool of red, still reflecting the shirt's glow beyond the lip of the table that lies over him.

When the spirit manifests, it manifests as a woman, all white as snow except for ice-blue eyes, wearing a grubby set of coveralls, and a rough jacket over the top. A fender hangs from one belt loop, and a long sailor's knife and a marlinspike from another. She shows preternatural skills at net-handling, flipping up the weighted rim to free Blue in a couple of swift motions, before turning and dumping the net where indicated. There's a moaning sound from behind the booth, but no protest.

[pbangarth]

Blue never ceases to be amazed at the variety and complexity of spirits. But no time now to ponder such things. As the spirit pulls the net away from Blue, he calls to her, ::: Thank you, White Lady. Your help is a comfort in my storm. :::

While Karmakaze provides overwatch, as soon as the net lifts away from him, Blue yanks the old credstick he used as Connor and rushes to place it on the counter. Quietly he says to the staff, """ Sorry for the trouble. I didn't think anyone could find me here. There's about 600 Nuyen on that. I think it covers meals and damage. If you agree there's a few extra nuyen in there, I would appreciate it if your outside video didn't function for the next few minutes. """ He doesn't stop at the counter but continues quickly to t-shirt boy, and checks pulse etc. to see if he is still alive. If there is hope, he plans to cut off the worst of the bleeding (tourniquets, shreds of cloth stuck into the bigger holes, etc.) and do a quick Heal to tide the man over till other help arrives.

As he investigates, he speaks loudly to the room, hoping at least one of the assailants can assimilate his words. His tone is cold. """ Spread the word. Hunting me is bad news. Especially if the next batch of fools risks innocent bystanders the way you did. T-shirt boy here is what they can expect. """

[Bastard]

Even with the warning the sudden manifestation within a few feet causes Karmakaze to flinch. She regains her composure quickly.

"""I know we have to get out of here, but I want to make things right - """ Blue starts to tell Karma quietly, but she cuts him off, as she is in agreement and he doesn't need to explain.

"""Agreed. Let's also make sure these guys spend a few nights in the slammer."""



She then raises her voice to direct their would be captors, """Alright idiots. If you don't want your fancy-shirted-friend there to die you will follow my every direction without question. If you resist, you will get slimed by the nice spirit here, or shot by me. Or worse, you will end up like your leg-shredded-lackwit buddy here."""

She doesn't wait for a reply.

"""Good. Fragface.""" She aims her gun at the goon on the floor that looks most able. """Take off your shoe laces and tie up, Drekdick,""" she says, pointing to the other moaning goon on the floor, "Be quick about it, or I will subdue you with another three-round burst."""

[Koekepan]

Karmakaze manages to urge the bruiser who blew back his coffee to co-operate, although he's trembling pretty hard. When he pushes the table off Fancyshirt, he throws up again. The flesh has been stripped from the bone in ragged slices from ankle to hip, gleaming bone and white tendon peeping through a marinade of arterial blood. Some blood is still fitfully, feebly spraying out and mixes with the vomit.

While this occurs, Blue slaps down his credstick. Most of the staff are shell-shocked, but a grim old tattooed line cook who looks as if he would gut a marlin with a machete and a boathook takes the credstick, drops it in his apron, and wanders over to the main counter. He reaches under it, grabs a hand's worth of cables, and yanks them hard. Then he jerks his thumb at the road. "Git gone 'fore th' heat gits here, omae."

Blue can assess the damage at a glance. Without immediate help, Fancyshirt is dead meat in a couple of minutes at best. Of course, that DocWagon bracelet has probably already called in the cavalry, and they do have some pretty wizzer tech. Even so, maybe a Heal would help.

If it's an HRT team under way, they're probably in a boomer already, with gunpods armed and fireteam loaded.

Or maybe he didn't keep up the payment on DocWagon. That could have happened, too.

[pbangarth]

Blue steels himself for the pain to come. Healing something this bad is gonna hurt. He pulls t-shirt boy's belt off and makes a quick tourniquet around the worse injured thigh. """ This will take about a minute, """ He says to Karmakaze.

Then he lays on hands and concentrates. Magic flows through him like a dam-burst flood, but, amazingly, it doesn't scour him as it passes through. At the end of it he says, """That's the best I can do. """

[Koekepan]

The blood spray stops, and some of the flesh seems to wriggle back together.

Well, that's why they make cyberwear.

Is that sound a distant horn, or a distant siren?

[pbangarth]

Blue surveys his work. """ Not bad, all things considered. """ The noise outside intrudes.

""" We should get out of here. """ He says to Karmakaze. """ You have a vehicle? """

He turns to the line cook and gives him a nod. Then heads to the door, pulling out his burner. Talking to his friends must have been how they traced him. As he prepares to ditch the burner in the bay, it dawns on him why help might have been sent his way, and why the week-long time frame. He will run it by his new friend once they are clear.

[Koekepan]

The poor vomiting slob, on realising that he'd misinterpreted Karmakaze's instructions, and moreover been shouldered aside by Blue, started to tie up the ankles of his comrade in arms. It's a fiddly, messy business, but it happens.

[Bastard]

After his comrade is tied up, Karma directs the goon with her SMG to take his buddies shoelaces. After doing so, she quickly ties his hands behind his back with a simple half-hitch. Satisfied, she looks to Blue, who appears to be done with his healing of "One-Leg," given by his "all things considered" comment. He asks her about a car, before she can ask him about his magic or astral read of the place.

"""Yeah. Let's make sure the staff are safe, then we will hot tail it."""

She looks at the other two men, laying in their booths, making sure they are no longer a threat.

"""Which one of you idiots has the keys to the truck?"""

[Koekepan]

The staff, mercifully, look pretty safe. The goons made no attempt to hassle them, and now they're mostly sullenly nursing their wounds.

One, while holding his hand to a wound carved by broken crockery, points with his other finger at Fancyshort One-Leg lying on the floor. This worthy doesn't respond. Well, he's unconscious.

[pbangarth]

As Blue steps out the door, he calls back to Karmakaze, """ While you get their keys, I'll dump this burner into the bay. I think that was how they traced me. Meet you outside. """

Outside, he takes aim and tosses the burner into the drink. +++ Costs are adding up. +++

[Bastard]

Karma searches the fancy-shirted body for keys, or anything else of worth, besides the shirt. +++ Well.... that shirt is pretty fancy.... +++

[pbangarth]

Blue sees the burner leave a few bubbles as it sinks. Turning, hoping to see Karmakaze coming out the door, instead he sees her rifling through t-shirt boy's possessions.

+++ I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. +++

[Koekepan]

Karmakaze's long-experienced hands are good at performing searches for weapons, ID, all that good stuff. It's part of what police officers have to do.

Not that she's really in the police any more.

She turns up a long knife (15 inches of butchery), a set of shock gloves (why isn't he wearing them? Maybe they'd have been too obvious), a snuffbox-style chip wallet, a 'link ... no keys.

Wait a minute. She pops the top on the wallet, and rattles out the chips. Two are credsticks, several are datachips, and there are three keychips. One of them is bound to work on that truck.

On the other hand, that shirt is soaking up the pool of blood, and will need specialist cleaning.

[Bastard]

Time to move. Karmakaze's ex-coworkers will be arriving soon. She pockets the findings, pulls out her 'link and opens the video app.

"Hey drekbirds, smile."

She takes a smooth panoramic video making sure to get good images of the goons faces. If Fancy-Shirted Shredded-Pants' ID doesn't turn up any leads, maybe somebody knows these ugly faces.

She exits the building and heads for the truck to do a quick search. Hopefully a vehicle registration, some weapons, and a vehicle registration card turn up, and not just some old Bubba Johnson troll country music tracks.

[Koekepan]

Karmakaze's video takes in the stained, bloodied faces, and the surprising lack of wreckage, compared to their condition.

Not bad; minimal collateral damage. OK, done.

Outside the weather is cool, with a stiff breeze wafting from the west. It smells of seaweed, and that line of rain is splatting a few fat droplets on the paint of the truck.

The basics of the truck are actually easy to grab from her 'link. Now that the electronic signature of these vehicles is mandatory, it's a quick click-beep. Now, to check inside ...

It's actually pretty nice, and according to the brochures in the cab, it belongs to HuangBilt. A bit out of their area, but maybe the truck was volunteered by the thugs? Seems unlikely, because messing with Chin-Ho's stuff is likely to have ugly consequences. Still, it is what it is.

Overt weapons aren't obviously visible, but there're a few of the usual dual-use technologies, such as a crowbar, a few powertools and of course loops of rope.