Doc Chase
Jul 29 2010, 06:21 PM
Taqueria de la Rosa; Nueva Caracas; 12:21 PM
"La Alianza, of course."
Sonora smiled. Some days, meets were like fishing trips. You cast your line, waited a while, maybe had a sandwich and a beer, and then reeled the line in once you felt a nibble. Coatl had drank enough beer for the both of them, and Loco was nibbling.
"You've heard the rumors, as have I. They may be pushing, overextending. Someone may be hunting them. Someone is certainly hunting their Cartel backers, and they're nervous. When they're nervous, they get violent. They expect to lose people, so we may...help that along."
She glanced at Coatl, then continued.
"There are...other targets. Some smugglers, the Yanqui Drowners. Hit them hard enough and they'll think it was Alianza. Hit Alianza the right way, they'll think it was the Drowners. Both of them get angry, hit one another, and we make off with the valuables. Move it through our people, and pocket enough to fix--well, anything."
Sonora sipped at her beer, willing her features to remain steadfast even as they screamed at her to make a face. She hated cheap beer. Stick with the Oaxaca, fine wines, or at least a decent cup of coffee.
"Of course, whoever is after the both of you can be thrown on the list. Get them all fighting with one another, and when the dust settles...eh. We stay on top. We'll need better Matrix support to clean accounts out, probably a magician since Alianza has a few spirits. I don't expect Carne to slice them all in half, just the ones summoning them."
Rastus
Jul 29 2010, 08:47 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
"Oooh, La Alianza. For a second there I thought you were going to suggest something really suicidal, like General Marón or Frederico Carmona."
Smiley swirled his beer a bit while trapped in thought. La Alianza. That name comes up a lot... Why do I feel I should remember these guys more? He shakes his head, "Well, while I agree it wouldn't hurt to get those two guys watching our back, we should keep in mind is that neither are all that reliable in this city. Hell, the shoddy grid is one-third of my matrix defense. As for magic, well... You have heard that Amazonia's magical assets make up like, about a whole quarter of their total forces? Keep that in mind when you remember that they won't even look in this cities direction unless some pollution is spilling out into the rainforests."
While tapping his fingers against the table, Smiley looks over to his beat-up car out on the street. "I could probably use some repairs to that car of mine. It really did fly last night, but it don't fly by design. Heh." Without looking away from the car, he then jerks his thumb over at Sangre and adds, "That guy could probably use some body armor that doesn't feel drafty too." After waiting a moment for an answer, he looks back to Voz, "So, aside from who else to hire and what we need, do you actually got a plan or a first move in mind? I mean, if these assholes are on the ropes there's probably contracts on them. Open bounties on members and assets alike."
Doc Chase
Jul 29 2010, 09:41 PM
Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM
"Probably," Sonora agreed, "And we'll see what my people have for contracts. If they don't, we can backtrace one of their lieutenants."
She looked over Sangre again, frowning. "Is he going to need something more than a vest and an AK knockoff? I'll make a call, and we'll see what we can do about fixing your aerocarro and getting some hardware."
Sonora grinned. "Once you're done, we'll go get some religion."
Combat Mage
Jul 29 2010, 09:58 PM
Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM
After his short speech, Sangre had left the talking to Smiley again, content that the negotiations had gotten down to the point. What the women said actually sounded pretty good. He would need resources and contacts to suceed in his search for his past and it looked as if he could find both through working with them. Then the conversation came down to equipment. Taking this as his cue he spoke up again.
"I got armor, but it needs to be chemically cleaned and repaired by a professional, it has some holes in it. Also I'll need someone who can put a few modifications on my weapons and armor or alternatively just arrange for new and better ones. Then a few small things like special ammunition.
We're going up against a whole lot of nasty people with big weapons, if I'm taking them on I need gear that is customized to my specifications, not some third-rate street shit. Get me a good armorer and hardware dealer that can supply the stuff and I'm ready to do whatever you need me to make this thing work."
Rastus
Jul 29 2010, 10:17 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
Smiley claps his hands together as he stands up from the table, "Alright then. Let's just get a case or two of beer from here for the fellow religion-seekers we'll be meeting and I'm ready to go whenever you guys are." Looking over to Carne, he adds, "You might need to take the bus, though. Don't think my busted shocks can handle all of us plus you."
Lamhslea
Jul 29 2010, 10:58 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; El Decanso Último, Nueva Caracas, 12:07 PM]
[Commlink: Hidden]
Chaske grins mildly and takes a sip from a bottle that materializes in his hand, <<Alianza, eh?>>. He lets the cervesa sit in his mouth for a bit as he considers the offer, then looks Stephen's icon in the eye.
<<Alright, but so long as we're being honest>> he says with a slight smirk on the last word, <<I've ran into a spot of trouble myself, or rather the trouble has ran into me. While I'm digging up info on them some fire support would be welcome indeed. So I help you with this Alianza and you help me with what I'm looking for. If that's agreeable to you then let's discuss our options, starting with the name of the guy you need and what you want me to do. If you'd prefer to discuss that in the flesh then I have just the place in mind.>>
Another message scrolls across Chaske's visor:
:::Need a secure place to meet. Might be a trap, might be our lucky break. Suggestions?:::
Mister Juan
Jul 29 2010, 11:24 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Just in front of Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
I ain't ever been too good at talking on phone and driving at the same time. About twice in half a block, I almost hit some dog. Not that it would do much damage to the van. The thing feels like a tank with a pretty dress. Not the most subtle of all rides, but it don't stand out too much. Even with the AC cranked up all the way, I can feel the heat radiating from the windows. Spent about two minutes outside, and I'm already covered with a film of sweat. Last time I saw a real Doc, he said the humidity wasn't all that great for my bones. What the hell does he know anyways. Like a fuckin' degree really mean anything. That and my bones ain't exactly off the rack. Actually, they are from a rack… well, a catalog. I've got Morris' voice piping in the back of my head, and it ain't helping my driving skills.
"I'm gonna need a place to crash, and soon, Morris."
"What are you looking for exactly?"
"Something off the grid. Out in the boondocks where there ain't no one to peak around. It don't need to be anything fancy… Just fancy enough for me to play dentist if we need to get some intel from a few Azzies."
I grab a paper cup from atop the console. Spit some tobacco in it.
"Anything else?"
"Tell me when you've got them OP funds loose."
My stomach grumbles again. I haven't had any real decent food in some time. I start fumbling around with my parallel parking skills. Never was much of a car man. Still ain't one. So yea; I'm a clumsy fuck with a van… Should've moved to Venice. Least they got boats over there…
I'm about to hang up on Morris, before he does. But I don't. Got one last thing to ask him. I realize that every time I ask something, Morris probably notes it down and will remember to ask something back from me. As far as I'm concerned, with the amount of people he's asked to bag, I'm pretty sure I'm allowed a few favors.
" 'fore I forget; got any way I could get in touch with them Bolivar folks? I can't go to town with the Azzies by myself, and they look like the type o' folk who might come in handy."
Morris starts to say something but I get distracted. The van comes to an abrupt stop as I bump pretty harshly into a parked car. Well fuck me! What a fuckin' day.
I hang up before Morris can put in another word and I get out. Hopefully there ain't no one around who saw me bump that car. I look 'round real quick. Ain't nothing but four folks eating their lunch.
Although one of them is looking at me like I just killed his fuckin' dog.
Rastus
Jul 30 2010, 06:36 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
Just as he turned to get the attention of the server named Elena to get a few more beers for the road, he heard the loud smash of metal on metal. He knew what happened before he turned his head to look, and he knew what happened long before the AR windows popped up to warn him of the damage. Smiley flopped back down into his chair, letting out a small chuckle. "Hah, would you look at that? Those shocks ain't as much of a problem anymore." Without waiting for a reply or even a look he bolted back up and out of his chair and threw one of the nearby empty bottles at the van.
"What the fuck is the matter with you!? The hell did my car do to deserve that you fucking asshole!?"
Smiley began to approach the van with anger on his face and an accusing finger pointed at the van and it's owner, "You better pay for that shit, you motherfucker!"
Martin_DeVries_Institute
Jul 30 2010, 07:36 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
As talks begin to wind down to some sort of conclusion that everyone was satisfied with, Coatl relaxed slightly. It didn't seem whatever was in those duffel bags was going to be brought to bear on him or Sonora, so he wasn't going to have to act as a brick wall to protect her while he taught some lessons. But plans were coming together. Payback was being planned.
The mouthy one had just made some smart remark about the bus, and Coatl was trying to think up some sort of comeback, when a van crunched into the guy's car. With a thrown bottle and shouted words "Loco" was on his feet.
"Shit," the troll muttered darkly, and got up. He headed after Loco, not sure what was coming--was he going to have to cut up the errant driver? Or was he going to have to restrain his new pal?
Of course, a van would be pretty good transportation for him if Loco couldn't deign to squeeze him into his car...
Combat Mage
Jul 30 2010, 09:13 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:22 PM]
Just as everything seemed to come together some idiot hits Smiley's car. Of course Sangre would have to back the rigger up, he owed him his life after all. The elf pulled his assault rifle out of the duffle bag and followed the angry human out to the offender's van.
At least it's never boring around him, he thought with a sarcastic smile.
DrZaius
Jul 30 2010, 03:12 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Apartment, El Zamural, 12:07 PM]
Stephen looked at Chaske's icon, and nodded.
<<Yes; I think a meet in person would be agreeable. I wouldn't call myself 'fire-support', but I can help out in a pinch. My talents lie in the more subtle aspects of my art. Subtle, yet very effective. Where and when?>>
Stephen got up and started to prepare to leave his apartment, going into the kitchen to feed the dog who somehow managed to sneak back in.
Doc Chase
Jul 30 2010, 05:51 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:23 PM]
Biomonitor: Stable
Ay. Men.
The beeping of Sonora's biomonitor brought her attention away from the brewing confrontation to check her vital status. So far, everything looked to be green, though the 'suggested dose' timer was firmly in yellow territory. After the shocks of the night before, Sonora resolved to keep a calmer outlook on things. She hadn't heard much from her doctors at RAM since she got the last doses to keep her heart stable...
Sonora saw the assault rifle come out of one of the duffels. She bit back a groan. She also peeked inside the bag as everyone's back was turned - this is how the game worked. You catch details when misdirection is afoot. Details about these men that were walking to the car, the one in the van itself, what was inside, what to expect.
Sangre was definitely half metal, half meat. She could smell the combination of chrome and dried blood, read the miniscule twitches in his arm, see the ease at which he carried a rifle. He was an exact counterpart to Loco, so full of life and energy, to change emotions as easily as he shifts gears in his sagging car.
And then there was Coatl. A freight train, slow to start but impossible to stop. She could tell he was no stranger to violence, but why would anyone try to double-cross him? These Drowners were idiotas, and they sounded like they might have some hardware that the boys would like.
The boys. It was dangerous, thinking of these three like that. It suggested familiarity, closeness. She couldn't have that right now; she barely knew these three. They had come together for the promise of blood and mutual profit, but Sonora wasn't a killer. This was business, nothing more. Get the money, get the repair, get the hell out of Caracas.
The one inside the van piqued Sonora's interest for a moment. What little she could see of him confused her. What was a gringo looking like Death warmed over doing down here?
The obvious answer is 'hitting Loco's car,' she thought. I'll have to talk them all down. A six-pack and four burritos for them should solve the problem. Gringo gets one and one, the boys take the rest.
Elena quickly noted down the details and skittered off, grateful to be out of the way and leaving an honest-to-goodness paper bill on the table. Sonora would go out there as soon as she had gifts to soothe the savage hermanos.
As to the method of payment, well...There was an opened duffel bag. Lunch was on Sangre.
Mister Juan
Jul 31 2010, 01:13 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:23 PM]
I ain't quite sure if the guy misses me on purpose, of if he's just too fuckin' drunk to actually aim. I just stand there as the bottle smashes against the side of the van. Right. I doesn't even make a dent. The armour is rated for 7.62 rounds, so I ain't too worried. So yea; Paco comes barrelling down on me like an overstuffed taco spilled over with meat. From the greasy look of his spick beard, he's gotta be the owner of the car I just dented. I look him over once. I look up at the rooftops and windows. I look at both sides of the street. I look back at him. When he gets up close and starts flapping his mouth, I chew the tobacco in my cheek.
He ain't real tall or real wide, so he doesn't really bother me. I still feel kinda confident from the two guys I offed back at my old place. Worse comes to worse, I can always duck back in the van and let the machine gun chew him out. But I ain't really in the mood for that. The two Azzies I bagged earlier sorta cheered me up. I feel almost generous.
Over his shoulder, I can see one of his friends grab a fuckin' assault rifle out of a bag. Seriously; who does these guys think they are? Who the hell waves around a combat rifle, at fuckin' noon, for a dented bumper. Either these guys are jumpy as fuck, or just insecure like a bunch of teenagers discovering their sexuality. I keep both of my hands in my pockets. Don't want to make the daisy eater too nervous.
I did just dent this taco eater's ride... I decide to play the diplomatic route.
"Listen Paco; I'm real sorry I dented your pussy wagon. It was a sorta of weird angle, you know."
I peer over my shoulder. There are no other car parked in the street.
I sorta shrug. Friend finally comes next to us. I chew my tobacco and spit on the ground. I nod toward the elf.
"You mind tellin' your girlfriend I'd much appreciated if she put her dick back into her pants? I mean, if she really wants it, I can pull mine out and we can compare sizes, but I'm sure that ain't necessary. Right?"
I spit some more tobacco.
Combat Mage
Jul 31 2010, 01:50 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:23 PM]
Seriously? Seriously? Sangre's face is cold as he watches the newcomer, the rifle casually draped on his shoulder.
"It won't be necessary if you stop talking trash to me right now! I'm not in the mood for any more shit today."
The guy was pretty disgusting with the whole tobacco-spitting shtick. He was big, with the tired, washed-out vibe of someone that has lived too long. But there was something about him that told the elf not to take him lightly. Call it want you want, sixth sense, warrior's instinct, whatever, but there was more to this old man than what was apparent at first glance. In addition the van seemed to be heavily armored and Sangre was pretty sure it had some nasty suprises hidden beneath it's inconspicuous exterior.
"I'm just here to ensure the conversation stays civil. It's my friend here with whom you gotta work things out. He likes his ride. A lot."
Rastus
Jul 31 2010, 02:02 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:23 PM]
Smiley couldn't help but stand there dumbfounded for a moment as he looked at the old man. "Paco? Pussy Wagon? You got quite a bit of nerve for an old man driving some windowless pedo-van!" There was something about this old man that seemed oddly familiar. The accent was way too uncommon to this area, but he could swear the slight twang in his speech was from somewhere in the Confederated States. But there was something more important, more prominent to Smiley: The way that man stood, even relaxed... It was too sure-footed, too proud. He's seen this back home, this guy had to be a military type. Probably former, judging by age.
Turning to look back at Sangre, he raised an eyebrow at the elf. "Okay, why did you choose now to pull that out now? This isn't a guy trying to jump us, it's an old man who can't drive for shit! I'm wantin' to know what the fuck, not shake him down! You wasted a perfectly good trump card, man." Shaking his head, Smiley looked back to the old man with a sigh. "Okay so excluding the possibility that you was lookin' for fetching underage boys and girls to invite into your van... Why. The Fuck. Did you hit my car? It's the only one on the street! There is almost nothing for traffic save a few shitty bikes!"
Mister Juan
Jul 31 2010, 06:55 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
I probably make a face that's something halfway between a smirk and a frown. Was never really great at expressing my feelings.
"I'm just here to ensure the conversation stays civil. It's my friend here with whom you gotta work things out. He likes his ride. A lot."
I'd say I turn my eyes to look at the daisy eater, but I can't, on the account my eyes don't move in my head. Just two big chunks of chrome. So instead, I turn my entire face. The air taste's like rust.
"Listen Toots; last time I checked, I was planning on being real civil. That was, until you decided you were scared enough of a little old man to start waving your shiny new toy around. Do us all a favour Toots, and go put it away. I promise I won't make any scary faces to spook you."
I look back at the taco eater.
"Seriously buddy, you gotta keep a tighter leash on your pet there. People tend to put down rabid dogs when they seem 'em."
He sighs and smiles. The guy doesn't look half as stuck up as his girlfriend. Even sort of funny for a greasy spic.
"Okay so excluding the possibility that you was lookin' for fetching underage boys and girls to invite into your van... Why. The Fuck. Did you hit my car? It's the only one on the street! There is almost nothing for traffic save a few shitty bikes!"
I spit some more tobacco. If this guy thinks he's going to get a raise out of by calling me a pedophile, he's got a really long fuckin' way to go. If only he'd heard half the shit I've been called, his ears would be bleeding.
"Quite frankly Paco; must've been the hangover. Or maybe I'm just tired from banging your mom."
I yawn and take a small roll of cash out of my jacket.
"Just how much do you want for the scratch? 100?"
I look down and start thumbing through a few bills. I look back up to ask him something and I finally see it. Across the street. Sitting at the table. Well fuck me! What's the word… Serendipity? This shit just ain't possible. Of all the dingy food dump in Caracas, I stop by one and there it is: bait. Two of 'em. Now, if these two clowns don't force my hand into bashing their skulls open, my day just gotten a little bit better.
Rastus
Jul 31 2010, 09:48 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
This man's got a whole lotta balls where his manners oughta be, thought Smiley as he looked the old man in the eyes, which allowed him to catch the man's attention shoot to the table far behind Smiley for a split second. The temptation to press the muzzle of his fourty-five pistol against the old man's jaw and open fire just to teach the bastard a lesson was strong, but he relented.
"First of all, stop calling me Paco, you redneck pendejo. Secondly, stop taunting the other guy. He's some sort of bio-android from the future or something, it might end badly. Besides, only I may taunt him."
Smiley rcrosses his arms as he steps aside, waving to Sangre to do the same. "Don't bother paying, you probably only got ancient US Dollars. Completely worthless, unlike my car." He looks back to Sangre, jerking his thumb at the bags by the table. "Hey, go get the bags so I can put them back in the car, yeah? They aren't helping anymore just sitting out in the sun."
Mister Juan
Jul 31 2010, 10:15 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
"First of all, stop calling me Paco, you redneck pendejo. Secondly, stop taunting the other guy. He's some sort of bio-android from the future or something, it might end badly. Besides, only I may taunt him."
I chew on my words a bit. Taunting? Yea right. Just calling things as I see them. I wave dismissively at him.
"Hey; you two love birds do whatever ya want. I ain't the judging kind."
"Don't bother paying, you probably only got ancient US Dollars. Completely worthless, unlike my car."
I shrug and fold the bills back into my jacket.
"Suit yourself kid."
I run my tongue over my gums, switching my tobacco to my other cheek. I push pass the man without a glance back. If these guys want to start shootin', there's nothing I can do to stop 'em. If trouble is what they want, they're bound to start it. I sure as hell don't have neither the time, nor the patience for it.
I ain't never been know to be real subtle. I also ain't the kind of guy to pass up a nice opportunity. Like these two sitting at the table.
I stop a few feet short of their table. I double check the list through the commlink still jacked in my brain. I look at the elven woman, and then her partner. Seriously. What were the odds.
"I'd hate to break it to you two, but you both look like shit. And I'd hate to worsen your day, but I hope you know this town is about to turn into a shitstorm real soon."
I spit once more and wipe my mouth with the back of my arm.
"Your olds friends are in town for payback."
Combat Mage
Aug 1 2010, 02:31 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
Sangre felt frustrated. He didn't know for sure of course but he had the feeling that this was happening to him a lot. He just wasn't good with words. If someone annoyed him, the only way he knew to deal with them was through violence and that apparently wasn't an option here.
"Just shut the fuck up you washed-up old motherfucker," he responded before he turned towards Smiley. "And you, stop ordering me around, asshole." Of course he then went back to get their bags anyway, if just to get away from that stupid bum in the van before he kicked out whatever teeth the old sucker had left. But he noticed the guy got out of the car and followed him towards the table.
"What a shitty day..." the elf grumbled while getting their money back into Smiley's armored car.
Martin_DeVries_Institute
Aug 1 2010, 07:35 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
It had seemed odd that, of all the streets this guy could have come down, of all the places he could have chosen to park, the old man had chosen this street and that spot. Causing a scene just as the four of them were trying to get down to brass tacks. That had been odd, yes. And now he approached Sonora and Coatl, and said "old friends." And "payback."
The troll looked up, expecting to see snipers watching from the rooftops. To be cut down and killed before his quest could even start.
But there were no snipers. Coatl looked back to the old man and said, "You better start explaining yourself, real quick." A cyberspur extended from his right hand to punctuate his words.
Mister Juan
Aug 2 2010, 01:14 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
I snort and look over at the troll. The guy looks mighty fuckin' jumpy. Guess I'd be too if I met myself for the very first time. I ain't the most friendly looking guy in the neighborhood. But that's beside the point. So yea; I talk, and he gets all fuckin' nervous and defensive. Even goes as far as popping some spur to make sure I understand he means business. Just what the hell is up with everyone these days? Why is everyone so fuckin' insecure with themselves? When it ain't a daisy eater pulling an AR on me, it's a trog pulling some steel. Maybe they're both dating. I bet I know which one bends over.
I keep my hands well into my pockets, not too worried. If he wants to gut me, he'll just do it and there ain't a thing I can do about it.
"There ain't much to explain. We don't know each other, but I'm your enemies' enemy. Meaning I'm your friend. And trust me, you two need a friend like me right now."
I look straight a the troll.
"I know exactly who you are, what happened to you and why you're here. And I know who doesn't want you to be here."
I look at the woman.
"And I know who you are to. I know you want to make the best of what you've got left. But trust me; with the people coming after you, your days are numbered."
I take my hands out of my jacket. The sun bounces of my chromed hand.
"I ain't the kind to sound dramatic, but I'm the only person who can keep you alive."
Doc Chase
Aug 2 2010, 03:20 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
Waiting for the extra food with a casual air, Sonora watched the altercation between the three across the street. You could tell a lot from a person's stance, how they carried themselves, and how they reacted in the face of certain stimuli.
The stimuli, in this case, was a chromed gringo who looked old and tired, far too old and tired to deal with the antics of the other two. It took a certain kind of huevos to stare down an assault rifle, and it looked like the old man was willing to pay to the damage to Loco's car. His actions betrayed danger, but not an outright threat. As long as the crazy pair didn't continue to escalate, there shouldn't be a problem.
Sangre returned to the table, swearing under his breath as he grabbed the duffel bags and stalked off towards the car. Sonora could only smile at him and make small mention that she'd pass him another beer once they were off.
About that time, she glanced at the gringo again, and saw it in his expression. A certain twitch to the eye, a miniscule tilt of the head. The expression of wrinkles changed as he squinted at the table where she and Coatl sat. Recognition.
As he approached, she studied his movements and came away with the impression that he had something to say, but that was all. He came to a stop before the table, and then the cryptic speech came out.
Sonora burst out laughing.
What were the odds, indeed? They had to managed to close what passed for a deal in this hole of a town, in a hole-in-the-wall restaraunt, to fill others with holes and hopefully retain the correct number of holes in theirs. Upon completion of this deal, signed by the sharing of several beers and good food, this...Cromo Blanco runs into Loco's car, gets into an altercation with the two, and then tells them somebody wants them dead and he's not trying to be dramatic?
It was nearly too funny for words. She took a good minute getting that out of her system, waving Coatl off from the metal sliding out of his arm, and beckoning Sangre and Loco over to the table after loading their lucre.
"Ay, all right," she replied in English. "There are better ways to go about this, so we'll set things right with you and my amigos, apologies will be had, cerveza will be shared, and you will tell us who else is looking for us, yes?"
Mister Juan
Aug 2 2010, 09:27 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:24 PM]
The chica goes out of her way and offers me beer. I'd also be much obliged if she bought me lunch, but you can't always get everything you want out of life. Whereas Paco, Loco and Gordo all wanted to fuckin' kick my ass for no reason, this little lady sure seems to have her anger management problems under control.
As much as the situation is fucked up right now, I feel my mood sorta lighten. I still half wish someone would give me a real excuse to shoot 'em. Maybe later.
Her English ain't too bad. Sort of surprise she decides to answer me in my mother tongue. Not as if I could pass for a real local though…
"Well, I ain't the kind of man to refuse a drink from a lady."
I grab a chair and sit down. She wants to know who's coming after them. I don't feel like saying too much. Don't know how much everyone knows. There's that, and the fact that people usually don't like to have their dirty laundry washed in public. So I decide to remain sorta cryptic. I fuckin' hate this clock 'n dagger shit. Never was much good at it.
So I decide to go the short 'n direct route. I look at the girl… since I'm pretty sure she's the brain behind of this couple.
I just say one word.
"Aztechnology."
I spit some tobacco.
Doc Chase
Aug 3 2010, 04:16 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Sonora's smile faded on mention of the Big A. Anyone with brown skin and living in Caracas had a beef with the Azzies, unless they didn't know about their ubiquitous hold on the food market. Or they worked for the Azzies.
Her response was forestalled by the placement of two brown paper bags on the table that sat next to the six pack of beer she'd ordered. The bags were gone, and she knew that Loco y Sangre were getting anxious to move on. Kill two birds with one hand grenade, perhaps.
"Cryptic. And you say they're after the both of us. All right, then I have a different proposal."
Sonora smiled anew, adding a touch of brightness to the heating day. "Carne and I need a ride to pay our respects to Cristo. Loco y Sangre are taking their vehicle there as well, and on to get repairs which you added to. If you truly are who you say you are, then give Carne and I a ride, where these two upstanding gentlemen will follow, and tell us more along the way."
She hefted one of the bags. "In return, you'll get lunch."
Rystefn
Aug 3 2010, 07:31 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; El Decanso Último, Nueva Caracas, 12:07 PM]
What the fuck? Did this guy want El Mono to stick his head in the helmet or just yell at it? And if he was in a meet with someone, why would Mono want to get his voice in on the conversation? I mean, maybe it was a pipe just to Chaske, but it could just as easily be broadcasting all over the Matrix. No, the offer had been to jump in on the convo, and that meant at least one other person would hear. Wouldn't that be tipping their hands? If this could be a trap, shouldn't they hod onto whatever advantage they could get... like, I don't know, the fact that there was fucking two of them, and not one? Whoever the fuck this hombre was, he clearly wasn't going to last long in Caracas. Not without some help. Fuck... who had saved whose life more times, now? Damnit. Mono had lost count. Shit.
Picking up a scrap of cheap paper and nub of a pencil (why did hotels still have things like this in the rooms? probably for situations like this...), Mono quickly wrote down a note and held it in front of the helmet, hoping Chaske could read it.
If it is a trap, secure means lots of escape routes.
If you can get away, you live.
If you can't, you die.
Someplace wide open, but with tall buildings, so they can't shoot from far away so much.
Hopefully that would help.
Lamhslea
Aug 3 2010, 10:07 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; El Decanso Último, Nueva Caracas, 12:07 PM]
[Commlink: Hidden]
Chaske sighs inwardly as Mono writes his suggestions down rather than speak them. and then sends another message to his helmet.
:::Well I was hoping for suggestions, not criteria. No time now though.:::
Time in the Matrix moved at a different pace than time in the real world. His little exchange with Mono was starting to turn into an awkward pause in his VR convo. Before he wastes any more time and changes the Garcia's impression of him changed for the worse Chaske runs a quick search of the Caracas mapsoft he had picked up when he first got into town.
Within microseconds Chaske sends the coordinates to Stephen's icon along with a time, 12:20, and disconnects from the chat room. Opening his eyes with a weary sigh he looks to Mono.
"Alright, I got a place. But man, all you had to do was talk and I'd have heard you. The Matrix operates at the speed of light. Watching you look for the paper was like watching a lead weight sink through a vat of molasses. Anyways, no time to dwell on that now. Just keep it in mind for the future." As Chaske continues to talk he speaks faster and faster until he catches himself and sucks in a breath of air to steady himself. He reaches into his tac-vest and takes out another pinch of snuff. "Right.." he says slowly, "We need a way to stay in contact, assuming you want to stick together. The heat has died down..." Chaske says as he puts his racing armor back on. "Personally I'm a little intrigued by the Garcia's offer, he might be able to help me out in finding who wants us dead. Wants me to help him search for something first, though."
Chaske flexes his fingers as he pulls the gloves on and smiles to El Mono before he replaces his helmet. "Whatever you wanna do, amigo."
Martin_DeVries_Institute
Aug 4 2010, 06:06 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
This gringo is not to be trusted, Coatl could see that right away. He might have huevos the size of grapefruits but that did not put him on their side. Sonora seemed unconcerned by him, or at least interested in hearing what he had to say; so Coatl slid the spur away, but his misgivings didn't wander far. And the fact that those two began jabbering in English didn't help any. The troll couldn't follow the conversation at all--although the man's big contribution, "Aztechnology," didn't need any translation.
His spur itched and wanted out. But although alarmed, la Voz wasn't in danger, so he kept it in its place. Popping it now would just mean having to put up with shit later.
Mister Juan
Aug 4 2010, 08:32 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
I can't help but grin a bit. Lunch and beers after a few seconds? I bet she's the sort of gal who puts out pretty easily.
"Sounds like a plan lady."
I get back up and stick some more tobacco in my cheek.
"Beer and lunch. Almost sounds like a first date." I say to no one in particular.
I grab the keys from my jacket.
"You can sit up front with me. Your angry Mexican meat shield will have to sit in the back. Ain't got a seat big enough for him."
Rystefn
Aug 5 2010, 12:44 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; El Decanso Último, Nueva Caracas, 12:08 PM]
"Hey, man. You said if I wanted to talk, the other guy could hear me. I don't know who this dude is, so the less information he's got on me, the happier I am...
"Still, if he might be able to help us figure out who those assholes were and why they're trying to kill us, I'd be happy to hear what he's got to say."
Fuck. All of a sudden Mono was talking about "we." Yeah, fighting for your life tends to form tight bonds pretty quick, but this hombre was a liability. Hell, everyone was a liability. Sometimes, though, you needed help, and Chaske had helped a lot in the time he'd known the guy. May as well stick out for the moment. Shit, wasn't that usually the turning point in the trids? The hero finds some guy willing to help. Some guy with the same enemies. Working together, they kick ass and take names. Sure, it ain't real life, but don't ideas like that come from somewhere?
"Alright, man." El Mono grabs up his gear. "But if we're doing this, there's one rule: I don't care which of us the sidekick, but either way, this is one of the ones where we both get hot chicas. Deal?"
Abschalten
Aug 5 2010, 04:28 AM
Dexter
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Right as Dexter invited Sonora up into the front seat with him, he received a text message, from none other than Morris himself. It was brief and to the point, with none of the man's usual taunts or flourishes:
<<Got cut off there. Anyway. Might have a way for you to get in with Bolivar '49. We have an informant inside. He might talk with you. Interested?>>
----------------------------------------
Stephen
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Apartment, El Zamural, 12:07 PM]
The dog, indeed, had managed to find its way (somehow) back into Stephen's apartment. It was notable, however, that the window out to the fire escape was wide open, allowing a rank, humid, and stifling blast of hot air to blow inside. The dog was busy ripping the garbage bag out of Stephen's trashcan and tearing holes in it to get at the leftovers inside. Garbage was strewn all across the kitchen floor, and the mutt chased it with his snout as he licked at it hungrily.
But as soon as Stephen entered the kitchen, the dog stopped all this messing around. He looked up at Stephen attentively, with a tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth. His tail wagged furiously, the thick appendage swishing and thumping on the floor.
Rastus
Aug 5 2010, 07:09 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Leaning back in the familiar-feeling driver seat of his car, Smiley impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he peered at the van behind him via the car's rearview camera system. Without turning his head, he starts speaking to Sangre after he gets into the passenger seat. "Man, does any of this shit make sense to you? Old man dings my car, gives us all lip, doesn't even break a sweat doing so despite the fact he's outnumbered and one of us already had a rifle at the ready."
He pauses a moment to light up a fresh cigarette with the cars built-in lighter. Fuck me running... Haven't smoked since I got locked up in the pen, now look at me. He taps the first bit of ash into the tray before continuing on. "Then this old man, whom is not only likely to be ex-military judging by his stance and posture alone but also a goddamn Confederate redneck; and he is a Confed, you had to of noticed the slight twang in his speaking pattern. Anyway... He goes up to Carne and Voz and drops Aztechnology's name, then Voz thinks to bring him along. What the fuck, man? Why the hell is he here telling people about Aztech? He trying to right past wrongs and take back The Alamo?"
After taking a long drag from his cigarette, he adds, "Man... We are so not bringing along anyone else who hits my fucking car. Fuck that, just shoot them and keep moving."
Combat Mage
Aug 5 2010, 01:38 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Sangre stuffed the last of the money bags into the back of Smiley's slightly damaged car before het got on the passenger seat.
"Yeah the guy is definitely a gringo. I think English is my native tongue too, despite my looks, when he started talking English it felt natural to me. But he's a fucking asshole in any case. The guy must have some business with the hot elf chick and the troll, it can't be a fucking coincidence that he just appeared here. I don't trust him one bit. He makes the wrong move and I'll enjoy putting the sucker down."
Abschalten
Aug 9 2010, 04:49 AM
Group Two
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
The motley crew of people in front of the Taqueria de la Rosa moved towards the vehicles; Sonora, Dexter, and Coatl towards the big black van, and Smiley and Sam moving towards the well-beaten sedan. The trunk of Smiley's car was buckled in a bit from the impact of Dexter's van plowing into it, causing the lid to pop open. The deformation to the back of the sedan made the trunk unable to be closed, the door just hanging upright and bobbing a bit in the wind.
That same wind brought to Dexter's enhanced olfactory senses a familiar smell, one that usually preceded danger or an ambush: that of polished, blackened shoes and of fresh gun oil. The wind was blowing down the street from the east.
It was at that time that Sonora, catching a glint of light in that direction, looked more closely at figure on top of a building down the block, wearing some sort of material that caused the very light around it to bend and ripple. The glint of light, she saw quite well even at that distance, was sunlight reflecting off of the scope to what appeared to be a quite large rifle, steadied at the edge of the building by way of a bipod, the barrel being lowered down in their direction.
((Initiative, everyone))
DrZaius
Aug 9 2010, 06:11 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Stephen parked his bike a block or so away from the meet, his normal paranoid self taking over.
No reason to get careless, even though I'm going out on a limb.
He turned his commlink to hidden mode, confident that if this hacker was up to snuff, he'd be able to find Stephen rather quickly in the crowd. His appearance had changed significantly before he left his apartment; instead of a weathered ork, he looked like a slick, no-nonsense elf.
What they look like on the trids these days.
He cracked his knuckles and scanned the crowd for the hacker, his colt heavy underneath his jacket. If there was going to be an ambush he wanted to be prepared, but he wasn't 100% sure how he'd react if there was one. His fixer was a pretty stand up guy, but you never knew down here. These meets were always the toughest; never sure what the other guy wanted, or if he was worth working with. Risks, everything down here was risks. If he wasn't careful, Stephen was going to get himself killed before he had finished what he started. Of course, it wouldn't be for lack of trying.
Lamhslea
Aug 10 2010, 02:22 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Nueva Caracas; 12:08 PM]
[Commlink:Hidden]
Chaske gives Mono a bewildered smile before answering with a laugh, "Fair enough, amigo. Anyway here's the info on the place: Plaza with lots of old style homes around it and a cantina with a patio, a few sellers along the edges. As Chaske gives a brief rundown of the area he inspects his gear for any damage or scuffs from the night before and rubs a cloth over his helmet's sensors. "There's a fountain in the middle but no water-should provide some cover if needed. A bit of a crowd, but nothing too bad. Drinks are cheap and mostly water. Figure I make initial contact while you stay on the outskirts and keep on eye on things, or have a drink at the cantina. Also, we're going to need a way to stay in contact so if you don't have one we can pick up a disposable commlink on the way there. Have a subvocal mic?"
Doc Chase
Aug 10 2010, 02:41 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]Biomonitor: Heart rate elevatingThe day was shaping up to be a decent one. Free lunch on
Sangre,

1500 in her pocket and the makings of a decent(if not melodramatic) team.
The heat was starting to really rise, the cracked asphalt outside of the taqueria giving way to actual waves of heat. The street was quiet; the type of silence you get at twenty past or twenty 'til the hour, when the whole world just
stopped for one fleeting moment.
The moment struck when they were crossing the street to the vehicles.
Loco and
Sangre were already in their hoopty, their gestures consistent with smouldering annoyance.
Coatl and
Cromo Blanco were close by, savoring what little wind blew in from the east.
Sonora turned her head to face the gentle breeze when she noticed
Blanco doing the same.
Sniffing.
The flash of optics on a building down that direction caught her attention. Blur suit, rifle, the tell-tale scope.
Blanco wasn't lying.
"
Tirador!"
Combat Mage
Aug 10 2010, 04:25 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
"Tirador!"
Sonora's shout was still hanging in the air when Sangre's wired reflexes already kicked in and catapulted him behind the beaten Sedan. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins while previously unknown knowledge popped up in his mind again.
Sniper detected. Seek cover, confirm the enemies location, pin him down with suppressive fire while your team sneaks up on him over the flanks.
Pressing his body against the armored metal of Smiley's car the elf readied his assault rifle and looked for the aggressor. There, light warping in a slightly wrong way, small unsteady movements, the glint of a long barrel. His cybereyes zoomed in on the sniper's location.
You fucked with the wrong elf today, asshole!
Abschalten
Aug 10 2010, 06:40 PM
Group Two
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
The sniper spotted, those in the know quickly began to act. Sam wasted no time reacting according to some training he must have had long ago, his augmented reflexes enabling him to respond to threats at near-digital speeds. He took cover behind Smiley's car and quickly singled out the sniper. Fortuitous was his timing as he fired a burst from his assault rifle; though he did not score a hit, the sniper jerked in his aim. The barrel rose up prematurely in the sniper's haste to avoid being shot, and an enormous boom was heard, like a thunderclap that rattled windows and caused the very air to vibrate. The front driver and passenger side windows of Smiley's car both exploded into showers of glass, followed by Elena. She had been rooted in place when panic erupted in the people who had just been eating, and she had had no time to react. She made a fine, stationary target for the .50 caliber round to slam into, and she went from a person to a shower of blood, meat, and assorted body parts splattering all of the team. The blood felt hot and burned like acid.
Rodrigo, having just seen his daughter taken from him in such a traumatic and gory fashion, fell to his knees and began shrieking, the sudden grief and horror he felt tearing out his lungs like some sort of canivore eating his flesh.
(Smiley's Turn)
Rystefn
Aug 10 2010, 06:43 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Awake: 35 hours 55 minutes
"Alright, I'm in place." El Mono grumbled into his new subvocal microphone, looking around the cantina for any suspicious characters. This was actually kind of cool. Disposable commlinks, subvocal mics, clandestine meetings with unknown players... If it wasn't for the fact some some seriously scary people were out there trying to kill him, it might almost be fun. At least Chaske was smart enough to have a reserve watching his back. The fact that the plan kept Mono out of the limelight suited him just fine.
Sipping his watered cervesa, Mono surveyed the crowd. Pretty normal for Caracas in the early afternoon, not that that said much. Anyone who stood out would likely be a diversion. Sure, there were guns here and there, some more concealed than others, but that was normal. Caracas was a rough town, and a good piece of hardware could be the difference between life and death. Still, most of the really dangerous types were indoors, trying to sleep through the heat. Hell, anyone with half a brain was out of the heat if there was any way they could swing it. What that said about Chaske and Mono was left unexamined for the moment. "It looks clear, amigo. You find your contact yet?"
Rastus
Aug 10 2010, 11:27 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
When he noticed Voz yelling a warning, Smiley reached into the backseat to retrieve the shotgun from the bagful of money it was hidden inside and jump out the driver-side door about the same time Sangre lept out his door, but he was slower to move and as a result got showered in glass. With a curse uttered he crawled out through the door opposite of the snipers position with his shotgun in hand and crept to the edge of the cars frontside while laying on his side, mindful not to expose himself too much.
Goddamnit, why is God intent on destroying my car one piece at a time!?
After taking a minute to see where Sangre was shooting, he brings up his SPAS-22 to bear and fires of a quick burst of 12-gauge Ex-Ex shells. He wasn't expecting to hit, but the loud BOOM-BOOM-BOOM sound would hopefully keep the sniper hiding until he could think of a better plan.
Fucking sniper probably has friends on the way too...
Abschalten
Aug 11 2010, 12:05 AM
Group Two
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Harried by bursts from Sam and Smiley, both of which seemed to come a little too close to their location for comfort, the figure lifted its .50 caliber rifle from the top of the building and withdrew, running back from the edge of the building to avoid taking any fire. For several heartbeats the figure was unseen, even insofar as it could be seen with that rippling, light-bending effect concealing him.
Dexter practically charged Sonora when the lead started flying, after Elena had been turned virtually into the chunky tomato paste now covering everybody, as well as seeping into the seats and floorboards of Smiley's car interior. The cybered man hefted her up over his shoulder, regardless of any struggling or protestation on her part, and he bellowed out in Sam's direction, "Daisy! Suppress that motherfucker!!" Dexter practically clawed at the handle for the van's side door. When he finally managed to keep his blood-covered hand from slipping on it, he engaged the catch and slid open the door, allowing him inside the armored interior.
The figure on the rooftop emerged again, but only for a split second. A ripple slashed through the air, and an object started sailing towards them in a parabolic arc. It landed hard on the asphalt, bounced, and then began rolling, rolling towards them... ultimately coming to a stop underneath Dexter's van.
From somewhere to the south, behind their vehicles, came the sounds of an engine being pushed to its limits, accompanied by the screeches of rubber catching the road hard on difficult turns. Somebody was approaching their position, and fast.
(Coatl's Turn)
Martin_DeVries_Institute
Aug 11 2010, 06:43 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Coatl barely had time to parse what Sonora yelled before the gunfire started, and suddenly there was a sudden burst of warmth across his back. The sort of warmth you might feel when stepping from cool shade into a sunbeam on a hot day except that its from a spray of blood, a deep arterial red of the sort that sunsets only show on rare special days.
No more of those days for Elena. No more of them for this crew, either, if something went wrong here.
For a moment Coatl suspected a set-up--maybe Sangre and Loco brought pals, maybe the old man, or hell maybe both did--but that's put to rest fairly fast. The way everyone reacted once the sniper was spotted just didn't add up. So the troll didn't waste time suspecting his newfound compatriots, and instead wasted it wondering where he might find a gun with a trigger guard big enough for his fingers.
And while wasting that time, he caught the blur of something arcing through the air towards them, the throw perfect and admirable for it. He admired it even as he dove towards the van, reaching out his arm to grasp the grenade--least it won't be no gutterpunk killing my ass today--cursing as clumsy fingers only nudged the explosive further. He hunched forward, shoulder up against the edge of the van, and grasped the grenade, then pulled it out as he rolled onto his back.
A motor from the south. Coming too fast for it to be coincidence. He craned his neck to try and see. Working off of no more than instinct Coatl whipped his arm, hard, throwing the grenade away before it turned them all in to pico de gallo, and hoped for the best.
Abschalten
Aug 11 2010, 04:24 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Coatl reached his enormous, troll-length arm underneath the van and scooped up the pineapple. Time seemed to slow down and turn to jelly, as the troll looked at this device in his hand, which in seconds would detonate and turn anything nearby into more paint for the walls. It was burning hot to the touch, though in the midst of all this haste it was hard to tell whether it truly was or if it was some sort of psychosomatic, subconscious message from the depths of Coatl's own mind, a message saying, "Hey pendejo! What the fuck are you doing holding a live grenade in your hands?!"
Coatl reared back and chunked the pineapple far to the south, as far away as he could get it, and it sailed away, smacked on the pavement, and bounced around a couple of meters.
The sound of the vehicle's motor was getting closer. The tire screeches were getting closer. Whoever it was, was almost here.
(Sonora's Turn)
Doc Chase
Aug 12 2010, 01:23 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Biomonitor: Heart rate elevated. Exceeding nominal parameters.
Some unwashed, South American, makkanagee morkhan sped up the countdown.
From the moment she shouted out the sniper, Sangre and Loco started laying down fire on the rooftop. Sonora heard the shatter of glass, felt the hot spray wash over the side of her face as she turned away from the busted windows, turned enough to see Elena's life snuffed out like one of the candles her family would light at her shrine tonight.
Sonora would have to light one too, if John Browning's legacy didn't enter her mind first.
Even as her heard sped up, time seemed to slow. She felt heavy, as if looking at the world through a thick stained glass plate. There was a dull impact as she noticed her perspective tip, looking over Blanco's shoulder as he bolted to the car. Even the gunfire was subdued, a dull thumping as rounds exited the chambers of their automatic weapons.
Her head rocked back as she got tossed bodily in the dark van, smacking the sheet metal and reinforced armor inside the cab. Time was still...slow. She could hear Blanco[/b[ yelling, felt the van rock again as [b]Coatl scabbled for something underneath it, heaving it down the road. She could also hear the roar of a car, growing closer.
Sonora could do nothing against the sniper, but maybe she could get a lucky hit on the car, if it was who she thought it was. Drawing her pistol, she flicked on the laser sight and waited for it to round the corner.
((Holding action.))
Abschalten
Aug 12 2010, 02:00 AM
Group Two
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Rodrigo is on his hands and knees in the middle of a puddle of what used to be Elena. The grief rendered him incoherent to the dangers going on around him as he clutched a pile of meat and rags that may have been a woman's torso.
The close by sound of screeching tires heralded the appearance of the motor vehicle from around the corner of the block, flecks of rubber and smoke kicked up by the hard braking. A black sedan of a model that looks much like Smiley's own (in better shape, of course) begins barrelling down the street towards the team. Men lean out of the windows on both sides - figures with heads shorn on the sides, and faces belying grim, murderous intentions. Each of them holds in their hands some sort of submachine gun, and automatic fire begins spraying towards everyone in front of the Taqueria.
(Sam's Turn)
Lamhslea
Aug 12 2010, 03:13 AM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
[Commlink:Hidden]
<<I think this is him.>> Chaske says to Mono as he tags the urbane elf with a brief flash of light only Mono would see over the link he had established. <<Not unusual to be ghosting in this area, but this guy looks a little too professional, neh? I'm going to see if he's the Garcia.>>
Chaske heads to the derelict fountain and leans against the rusted artifact while staring pointedly at the potential Garcia. When he meets the elf's eye he casually glances away while flickering his icon to that of the trid star he used for the Matrix meet. It lasted less than a second but long enough to register if this elf was the man.
Damn well hope this is the dude... Chaske grumbled to himself while keeping on eye on his helmet's sensors even while looking away from the mark. It's getting fucking hot out here, but no way I'm wearing less than my full riding armor after last night.
Doc Chase
Aug 12 2010, 12:05 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
(Held Action)
The car came screaming around the corner before Sonora could get her weapon ready. It took a moment, but the gun was out.
Only a second to aim...There!
Taking a bead on the front tire visible to her, the laser sight flashed against vulcanized rubber, and she squeezed the trigger.
Combat Mage
Aug 12 2010, 01:06 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
For the second time in as many days, Sangre was covered in blood. The nickname the elf chick had given him seemed to be fitting but at least it wasn't his own blood this time. He barely gave the dead girl next to him a second glance. Hadn't known her and definitely had better things to do right now. Their enemies seemed to be professionals.
Wonder if they're after me or after one of the others. Didn't the old asshole mention Atztechnology in his conversation with Voz and Carne?
The vehicle noise closed in and a split-second later the black sedan came speeding around the corner. From the corner of his eye he saw Voz taking a shot with her pistol while he took aim with his own weapon. The reticle in his cybereyes locked onto the gunmen leaning out of the car's window and he pulled the trigger two times in short succession, the recoil pressing the rifles's stock into his shoulder.
Abschalten
Aug 12 2010, 04:39 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Though not normally used to intense combat situations, Sonora knew the benefits of taking the time to do something right, even when the pressure was on. She took aim on the car bearing down on them from the south, and though the moving target kept moving out of her aim she constantly made adjustments, estimations, and refocused on her desired target: the driver's side front wheel.
Squeezing off a round, the slug slammed into the front of the wheel. The hubcap popped off in a shower of sparks as the rim suddenly was grinding directly the asphalt, causing an ear-splitting, agonizing metallic squeal.
The driver, attempting to compensate for the sudden loss of control, jerked the steering wheel and caused the car to veer off to the side; this sudden motion concealed the target that Sam was aiming at. He fired, and the bullets just smacked into the reinforced armor on the hood of the vehicle amidst plinking sounds and small showers of sparks. But this exposure gave him a better view of the second man leaning out of the window. The burst was largely absorbed by the shorn-headed man's armored jacket, but a round was seen penetrating the jacket around his upper chest, just below his shoulder. Depending on where that bullet went, it could be harmlessly inside a muscle, or it could've made it into his heart or lungs. Regardless, a small spurt of blood ejected from the entry wound, and by the grimace on the man's face it had done something to him.
Rastus
Aug 12 2010, 09:10 PM
[Tuesday, 17 November, 2071; Taqueria de la Rosa, Nueva Caracas; 12:25 PM]
Smiley could hear the screeching tires, the growling motor. He heard it over the short pauses in gunfire. Not only was he right about reinforcements, he could tell from the sound of the engine alone they were using a similar model of car. He figured they can't be too well-armored, otherwise they'd be moving slower than normal.
He reached up to the hood and pulled himself up to a knee so he could see overtop the hood and through the windows as opposed to under the car. With the shotgun ready, Smiley took a moment to carefully aim and fire off a single slug into the enemy cars engine block before it passed them. Hopefully it'd cause the car to stop, or stall, anything aside from moving forward at full-speed.