Knocking beers after beers with his old ork buddy from the hood, George started to slowly unwind from his day. A few hours ago, the only thing on his mind was what sort of color he should paint the baby’s room… that was, if they got the house. He still needed to scrape a bit more nuyens to get a decent place. In a few more months, the baby would be born. He would have to take care of two beings now. And one very vulnerable.
As he tipped the beer back, his thoughts went back to the matter at hand. Hobbes’ hit would bring enough dough to cover pretty much all the big expenses he had coming his way. The fact that the team still had very little information, and next to no plan of action made him uneasy. That and they had to make their move in less than four days. No matter what the others would say, George felt like they’d need some decent firepower. The courier’s armed team was decked out in heavy combat armor and was sporting some serious arsenal. If push came to shove, George felt like he was the team’s only line of defense. He knew very well Markus could own his own in a fight… and Caitlin had a very cool and clear head when the lead was flying. He just couldn’t help himself but think that Markus was still a corporate suit through and through. Cold blooded murder was a different thing from body guarding execs.
The big ork rubbed the back of his neck, trying to undo a knot that had settled himself there. No matter what, they would have to stop that truck. If the nice way didn’t work, they’d have to stop it with brute force. What if the armed team sent back Hell their way? They’d have to reply with a superior amount of force. What if they got stuck and the Star showed up? They’d have to blast a way out.
George’s attention went back to Jaxon, who was still going on about some anecdote of his. Waving his big hand in front of him, George stopped his friend.
“Sorry chummer but it’s getting kinda late. Judith’s going to have my head if I get after the sun is up.”
He got up, picking his long coat off the back of his seat.
“I’ll drop by at noon, like you said.” He added, extending his huge paw in front of him to shake his friend’s hand.
“Thanks for the help chummer. You take care.”
To Miron
George permitted himself a slight chuckled when he heard Miron’s tone of voice change over the line. It probably wasn’t every day that the fixer got asked not only for some military grade heavy weapons, but also for enough ammo to start a war.
“Never mind the spikes and capsules rounds… I really need the heavy hardware. Two days sounds fine for the launcher… but I can’t wait for 5 days to the hitter. I need it in 72 hours, tops. I know you can do it Miron… I’ll make it worth your while. Just call me when you have the stuff.”
When George later got a hold of Jack, his mood only worsen. The Fort Lewis base was the very best spot to score some serious ammunitions. If anyone in the plex had AV or APDS ammo, it was the UCAS Army. The fact Hummins couldn’t get his hands on a few boxes really meant the place was dry. At least, he could offer him some basic things he desperately needed. If Miron came through with the Valiant, George would need all the recoil compensation he could get.
“You couldn't grab me a box of belted 5.56 for an Ingram Valiant while you're at it?.” Said George as he swung his leg over his chopper.
Full Version: Initial Shadow Offering 2
Caitlin calls Wilder first - he's usually a bit harder to get ahold of. Luck is with her, though, and she reaches him (after a half-dozen rings, but that's still good for him). Tuning out the blaring music in the background, she requests some data on their target, Dassurn.
"Really? That's cool. I'm only trying to get a better idea of what they're like, so I don't need any deep digging. Just a general profile. Yeah. Sure, I'll see you at Dante's."
Caitlin figures she will buy him and his buddies a few rounds - worth it to get a good general picture of the company, and better than wasting 6-8 hours on her telecom to get what Wilder will probably be able to snag in ten minutes or so. Of course, she will still have to waste a few hours at Dante's, but at least, knowing Wilder, it won't be boring.
Her next call, as she heads towards Dantes (which she, serendipidously, is already dressed for), is Spindler. The fixer is happy to help her - he has a case of splash grenades, and nothing makes a fixer happier than finally getting rid of old inventory. She cheerfully affirms her intent to buy all of them. It's a bit... much, but she figures the people buying the tech stuff and heavy weapons are probably spending even more, so she won't complain, even to herself. She may not have them for the next meeting, but she will have them well before they hit the armorred car. She will purchase a mix of the appropriate paint, and some slip spray, well beforehand.
As she wearily returns from Dante's ("Damn, it was so packed in there, and so energetic. Used to be, they were Penumbra's upstart rival, but looks like they have the crown now"), she checks her pager and finds a scrolling text message from Cortex. She waits until she gets home to her telecom to reply, since she hates using that little stylus with her cell phone. She sinks down onto her beanbag chair with a container of cold pasta salad, and types with the keyscreen in her lap.
"Message received. Let me know if you need that consultation before the group meets again."
"Really? That's cool. I'm only trying to get a better idea of what they're like, so I don't need any deep digging. Just a general profile. Yeah. Sure, I'll see you at Dante's."
Caitlin figures she will buy him and his buddies a few rounds - worth it to get a good general picture of the company, and better than wasting 6-8 hours on her telecom to get what Wilder will probably be able to snag in ten minutes or so. Of course, she will still have to waste a few hours at Dante's, but at least, knowing Wilder, it won't be boring.
Her next call, as she heads towards Dantes (which she, serendipidously, is already dressed for), is Spindler. The fixer is happy to help her - he has a case of splash grenades, and nothing makes a fixer happier than finally getting rid of old inventory. She cheerfully affirms her intent to buy all of them. It's a bit... much, but she figures the people buying the tech stuff and heavy weapons are probably spending even more, so she won't complain, even to herself. She may not have them for the next meeting, but she will have them well before they hit the armorred car. She will purchase a mix of the appropriate paint, and some slip spray, well beforehand.
As she wearily returns from Dante's ("Damn, it was so packed in there, and so energetic. Used to be, they were Penumbra's upstart rival, but looks like they have the crown now"), she checks her pager and finds a scrolling text message from Cortex. She waits until she gets home to her telecom to reply, since she hates using that little stylus with her cell phone. She sinks down onto her beanbag chair with a container of cold pasta salad, and types with the keyscreen in her lap.
"Message received. Let me know if you need that consultation before the group meets again."
Caitlin Only
[ Spoiler ]
Midnight was early for Cortex, but he figured getting a bit dayshifted would do him good in the coming week so he had gone to bed suitably early. Four hours later he was climbing out of the bed like a zombie -- he knew the sleep regulator would get him enough sleep in this time, but his body objected nonetheless. Some artefact of his alligator brain was fighting the modifications he'd received; it was strikingly difficult to outpace evolution.
After crawling to the shower in the hallway and back to his cramped, circuit-and-dish strewn kitchen, John began hatching ideas for breakfast and technological traffic control. One hour later he'd found a convenient exploit in the traffic lights based on the emergency vehicle strobes, an unimplemented gridguide frequency which still had security priveliges and a box of Aztech Pyramid Crunch. After that it was just a matter of soldering and finding non-curdled soy milk.
Four hours after sunup he found himself armed with remote controls for most of Seattle's traffic systems and a fairly full stomach. It was shaping up to be a useful day.
On checking his backlog of mail John found two useful messages. (John didn't like to be disturbed while working to the point of almost entering a trance. This in turn caused the growth of mail in his inbox.) The first was a bargain on voltage regulators which he giddily added to his shopping list for this Friday. The second was Caitlin's reply to his previous communication. In response John wrote the following message in language which was laboriously de-criminalized:
"False alarm on the consult. I found remote solutions which necessitate less physical (and magical) presence than I'd imagined initially. If you're not too busy, I'm willing to give a guided tour of the sites for a speedier magical appraisal."
After crawling to the shower in the hallway and back to his cramped, circuit-and-dish strewn kitchen, John began hatching ideas for breakfast and technological traffic control. One hour later he'd found a convenient exploit in the traffic lights based on the emergency vehicle strobes, an unimplemented gridguide frequency which still had security priveliges and a box of Aztech Pyramid Crunch. After that it was just a matter of soldering and finding non-curdled soy milk.
Four hours after sunup he found himself armed with remote controls for most of Seattle's traffic systems and a fairly full stomach. It was shaping up to be a useful day.
On checking his backlog of mail John found two useful messages. (John didn't like to be disturbed while working to the point of almost entering a trance. This in turn caused the growth of mail in his inbox.) The first was a bargain on voltage regulators which he giddily added to his shopping list for this Friday. The second was Caitlin's reply to his previous communication. In response John wrote the following message in language which was laboriously de-criminalized:
"False alarm on the consult. I found remote solutions which necessitate less physical (and magical) presence than I'd imagined initially. If you're not too busy, I'm willing to give a guided tour of the sites for a speedier magical appraisal."
George
[ Spoiler ]
“Sounds like a deal chummer” said the big ork over the phone, kicking his chopper off it’s leg stand.
“I’ll give you a ring tomorrow afternoon. Take it easy.”
With an impressive roar, the bike lunged forward into the night, heading back toward the streets of Carbanado, Puyallup.
The night was already pushing the early hours of the morning when George cracked open the door to his small apartment. Using his natural night vision, the ork used whatever light was filtering through the blinds to orient himself in the dark. His heavy boots taken off before entering, he made very little noise as he began to unload all his “work” gear into the large metal footlocker, sitting in the corner of the living room. Judith hated weapons… they had destroyed part of her life, and threatened, every day, to also take her husband’s away. But she knew they were part of what George did… there was just no way around that. George was punching the maglock back on when the living room’s light switch on, almost blinding him. A few feet away, in the half opened door leading to his bedroom, Judith stood, wrapped in a dark purple bathrobe. One hand on the light switch, the other one under he ballooned belly, she was doing her best to look angry through he still half asleep features.
“Do you know what time it is?” she said in a condescending tone, as if she was scolding a child.
“I know it’s not an hour should be up at.” replied George in a more playful tone, a warm smile playing on his lips.
Crossing over to her in a few large strides, George gave his wife a kiss, putting his two big arms around her.
“Come on honey, let’s go to bed.” he whispered in one of her pointed ears.
Truth be told, Judith was just relieved her husband was back home in one piece. He stunk smoke and cheap beer, but seemed sober enough. She kissed him back, turning off the light and dragging him to bed.
When she got up the next morning, George place in the bed was already cold. His coat was off it’s usual hook. On the kitchen’s counter, she was a rather impressive bouquet of flowers with a little hand written note.
“Gone shopping. Love you. G.”
She smiled and giggled to herself, picking up one of the flowers to smell it.
“I’ll give you a ring tomorrow afternoon. Take it easy.”
With an impressive roar, the bike lunged forward into the night, heading back toward the streets of Carbanado, Puyallup.
The night was already pushing the early hours of the morning when George cracked open the door to his small apartment. Using his natural night vision, the ork used whatever light was filtering through the blinds to orient himself in the dark. His heavy boots taken off before entering, he made very little noise as he began to unload all his “work” gear into the large metal footlocker, sitting in the corner of the living room. Judith hated weapons… they had destroyed part of her life, and threatened, every day, to also take her husband’s away. But she knew they were part of what George did… there was just no way around that. George was punching the maglock back on when the living room’s light switch on, almost blinding him. A few feet away, in the half opened door leading to his bedroom, Judith stood, wrapped in a dark purple bathrobe. One hand on the light switch, the other one under he ballooned belly, she was doing her best to look angry through he still half asleep features.
“Do you know what time it is?” she said in a condescending tone, as if she was scolding a child.
“I know it’s not an hour should be up at.” replied George in a more playful tone, a warm smile playing on his lips.
Crossing over to her in a few large strides, George gave his wife a kiss, putting his two big arms around her.
“Come on honey, let’s go to bed.” he whispered in one of her pointed ears.
Truth be told, Judith was just relieved her husband was back home in one piece. He stunk smoke and cheap beer, but seemed sober enough. She kissed him back, turning off the light and dragging him to bed.
When she got up the next morning, George place in the bed was already cold. His coat was off it’s usual hook. On the kitchen’s counter, she was a rather impressive bouquet of flowers with a little hand written note.
“Gone shopping. Love you. G.”
She smiled and giggled to herself, picking up one of the flowers to smell it.
Caitlin is relaxed as she comes back home to her apartment, after lunch, coffee, and some animated discussion of magical theories with Larry. She sets down the bags of paint and slip spray that she picked up at the hardware store - all that she needs is the splash grenades, now.
Checking her messages, she finds Cortex's innocuously-phrased reply. She 'hmms' thoughtfully, before affirming that she would like to see the sites, suggesting early the next afternoon (since she knows quite a few techies tend to be night owls). She nods to herself - it will be good to get a heads-up before the meeting later that evening.
Checking her messages, she finds Cortex's innocuously-phrased reply. She 'hmms' thoughtfully, before affirming that she would like to see the sites, suggesting early the next afternoon (since she knows quite a few techies tend to be night owls). She nods to herself - it will be good to get a heads-up before the meeting later that evening.
"Armor sounds good, I'll be around in the morning to pick it up, let me know as soon as you have the lowdown on the info." Markus cut the line.
Gathering his bits and pieces Markus left the room, hitting the light switch before closing the door behind him. The club was still pumping but this was not really his scene, he had seen the back side of too many clubs before, there were much better places to think.
Markus headed to The Pizza Palace, it was not exactly a palace, they did not claim to make "The Original Pizza" but the pizza's were good and had real food. He looked out of place in his fancy suit but he was used to looking out of place.
Early the following morning he headed over to Balentyne's to pick up the armor. Markus inspected the armor to see just how used used was. "So this thing come with any extra's?"
Gathering his bits and pieces Markus left the room, hitting the light switch before closing the door behind him. The club was still pumping but this was not really his scene, he had seen the back side of too many clubs before, there were much better places to think.
Markus headed to The Pizza Palace, it was not exactly a palace, they did not claim to make "The Original Pizza" but the pizza's were good and had real food. He looked out of place in his fancy suit but he was used to looking out of place.
Early the following morning he headed over to Balentyne's to pick up the armor. Markus inspected the armor to see just how used used was. "So this thing come with any extra's?"
Getting Caitlin's confirmation that the site tour would be tomorrow John was faced with a dilemma. Half of the working day was still available (John, like any honest criminal, at least tried to keep an 8-12 hour a day working schedule), but had not yet been budgeted. He figured some field testing of his new toy was in order and headed to Tacoma to try to determine the evening traffic report.
George slowly rode through the rather desolated streets of Carbanado. Although it was his home, the place where he had grown up and spent all his life, he still felt slightly out of place. For some reason, this was the place in Puyallup where all the orks had decided to congregate. Both of George’s parents were orks… and so was he. But he had never looked like one of them. By some genetic abnormality, George looked more like your average buff human. He couldn’t wait to leave this drek hole behind him… He couldn’t wait to take Judith off to some safer part of town. Most of Puyallup was completely abandoned, and what little decent part was left of it was still crime ridden.
Taking his bike around the empty and rusted shell of what used to be a car, the big chopper rounded the corner and into the decrepit parking lot of an abandoned mall.
Kicking the leg stand in place, George left the Harley’s motor running. In this part of town, you never knew when you had to make yourself scarce in a hurry. In a few minutes, Jaxon would make his presence known.
For the mean time, all George could do was wait and hope no trouble would come his way.
Taking his bike around the empty and rusted shell of what used to be a car, the big chopper rounded the corner and into the decrepit parking lot of an abandoned mall.
Kicking the leg stand in place, George left the Harley’s motor running. In this part of town, you never knew when you had to make yourself scarce in a hurry. In a few minutes, Jaxon would make his presence known.
For the mean time, all George could do was wait and hope no trouble would come his way.
George:
The Black Rains had made home to this mall for as long as George had known them. And from the interior of the mall someone was no doubt watching. Finally Jaxon came out, behind him two ork gangers were pulling shopping cart (label Food Lion on the side) with a heavy metal box with the symbol of the Salvation Army on the half cocked lid. Jaxon let's George look over the quality of the goods before speaking.
"Here's your stuff. Shotgun, smartlink, range finder, gas mask, 200 rounds belted, and shock-loc rounds for the shooter. total price comes to
4550. I know that sounds pricey, but we actually got a pretty good deal on the gas mask, range finder and the regular ammo. What you got going on anyway man? seems like you're loading for some serious drek?"
Caitlin
Caitlin arrives at the meet with Spindler with time to spare, but the skinny pale fixer is already present, hunched over a rapidly cooling cup of soykaf. He offers what passes for a smile as she sits down. Caitlin is perhaps wondering why the fixer chose the diner for the meet since it seems pretty visible, but when she feels the gentle push of a knapsack against her leg she realizes the fixer maintains his focus on subtlety.
"cost is 1250 for the the whole bag of 25. I know that's probably more than you were looking for, but what can I say... economies of scale equals better prices." The fixer sips his soykaf with one hand, is credstick is in his other hand, signalling yours for a payment transfer.
Markus
"Sure chum," Balentyne says, "Comes with all the extras you could possibly want, so long as you pay for 'em." He chuckles, than seeing Markus unamused, he relents. "Aight, I'll throw in the helmet for free. It's got a HUD display and multi-channel radio gear. Is there anything else I can get ya while you're here, if not, than let's get to the fun part." He says taking out his credstick for the transfer.
Cortex
A quick survey of the matrix and an analysis of traffic flow patterns available legally for view there in details a section of the downtown which is similar to the target area. Cortex sits at a sidewalk cafe overwatching a busy intersection, as he plays with his newly built device. After a few mintues of practice he becomes comfortable with his ability to manipulate the lights subtly enough that it doesn't appear to have been overtly messed with. And he avoids causing any traffic wrecks too.
The Black Rains had made home to this mall for as long as George had known them. And from the interior of the mall someone was no doubt watching. Finally Jaxon came out, behind him two ork gangers were pulling shopping cart (label Food Lion on the side) with a heavy metal box with the symbol of the Salvation Army on the half cocked lid. Jaxon let's George look over the quality of the goods before speaking.
"Here's your stuff. Shotgun, smartlink, range finder, gas mask, 200 rounds belted, and shock-loc rounds for the shooter. total price comes to
4550. I know that sounds pricey, but we actually got a pretty good deal on the gas mask, range finder and the regular ammo. What you got going on anyway man? seems like you're loading for some serious drek?"Caitlin
Caitlin arrives at the meet with Spindler with time to spare, but the skinny pale fixer is already present, hunched over a rapidly cooling cup of soykaf. He offers what passes for a smile as she sits down. Caitlin is perhaps wondering why the fixer chose the diner for the meet since it seems pretty visible, but when she feels the gentle push of a knapsack against her leg she realizes the fixer maintains his focus on subtlety.
"cost is 1250 for the the whole bag of 25. I know that's probably more than you were looking for, but what can I say... economies of scale equals better prices." The fixer sips his soykaf with one hand, is credstick is in his other hand, signalling yours for a payment transfer.
Markus
"Sure chum," Balentyne says, "Comes with all the extras you could possibly want, so long as you pay for 'em." He chuckles, than seeing Markus unamused, he relents. "Aight, I'll throw in the helmet for free. It's got a HUD display and multi-channel radio gear. Is there anything else I can get ya while you're here, if not, than let's get to the fun part." He says taking out his credstick for the transfer.
Cortex
A quick survey of the matrix and an analysis of traffic flow patterns available legally for view there in details a section of the downtown which is similar to the target area. Cortex sits at a sidewalk cafe overwatching a busy intersection, as he plays with his newly built device. After a few mintues of practice he becomes comfortable with his ability to manipulate the lights subtly enough that it doesn't appear to have been overtly messed with. And he avoids causing any traffic wrecks too.
Caitlin smiles back at Spindler.
"Well, I guess there's no such thing as being too prepared, and I'm sure I'll use all of them... eventually."
She casually slides her credstick out to transfer the nuyen over. She sips daintily at her coffee. It's a bit strong for her tastes, and has been on the burner a bit long, but it's still real coffee. It's a bit of a pricey vice, but it's one she refuses to compromise on. She suppresses a shudder as Spindler takes another long gulp of soycaf. She doesn't know how anyone can stand the awful stuff.
After some more inconsequential small talk, Caitlin takes her leave, with the duffel bag, listing to the side a bit from the weight. At least it's not as bad as the paint and slip spray was.
She freshens up at home, then checks herself out in the mirror. She is wearing a business casual suit such as a Hong Kong sarariman would wear - a white jacket and slacks, black shirt, and narrow white tie. Her hair is slicked back, and she has silvery lipstick that matches her mirroshades. The look would be too cold and androgynous for many, but she can pull it off without seeming too severe.
She wants to make a good impression for her meet with Cortex - her initial runner contacts will do a lot in determining the course of her new career. And while she feels she overcame the first impression that her club attire presented, she wants to emphasize her professionalism this time.
"Well, I guess there's no such thing as being too prepared, and I'm sure I'll use all of them... eventually."
She casually slides her credstick out to transfer the nuyen over. She sips daintily at her coffee. It's a bit strong for her tastes, and has been on the burner a bit long, but it's still real coffee. It's a bit of a pricey vice, but it's one she refuses to compromise on. She suppresses a shudder as Spindler takes another long gulp of soycaf. She doesn't know how anyone can stand the awful stuff.
After some more inconsequential small talk, Caitlin takes her leave, with the duffel bag, listing to the side a bit from the weight. At least it's not as bad as the paint and slip spray was.
She freshens up at home, then checks herself out in the mirror. She is wearing a business casual suit such as a Hong Kong sarariman would wear - a white jacket and slacks, black shirt, and narrow white tie. Her hair is slicked back, and she has silvery lipstick that matches her mirroshades. The look would be too cold and androgynous for many, but she can pull it off without seeming too severe.
She wants to make a good impression for her meet with Cortex - her initial runner contacts will do a lot in determining the course of her new career. And while she feels she overcame the first impression that her club attire presented, she wants to emphasize her professionalism this time.
Align the strobe, ease the slider from green to yellow The stoplight followed suit Make 'em sweat for a while. Cortex was testing the patience of the downtown drivers. The last group he'd stopped had waited for 3 minutes before starting to inch toward the light in stuttering bursts.
He'd been trying this for three hours. It had started with getting every red sports car to stop over the manhole cover. After that was mastered he'd moved on to time trials and other activities to get a feel for the system and had worked on subtlety. It had been a long afternoon, but successful. He was pleased with how the whole affair had gone. He tossed the styrofoam cup containg the dregs of his artificial tea and munched the last of his cardboard flavor cookies as he left the balcony of "The Tea Place" (whose only claim to fame was its open air balcony) and headed for home late in the afternoon. It was a long, cold walk.
Cortex returned to his apartment and idled. An unfortunate byproduct of being able to run for 20 hour days was that he tended to keep odd hours and the four hours he slept crawled around his circadian rhythm like ants on an Escher painting. He could keep a schedule if he needed and could certainly keep appointments by forcing himself to stay awake a little longer or shorter as appropriate, but his thalamus didn't lend itself to a social calendar. This meant he had nervous energy to burn which cooking cheap noodles and jogging certainly weren't taking care of. He finally settled on writing some open source software because, even as tedious as NeoLinux was, it was better than doing nothing.
After another four hour nap and zombielike awakening, hours more of operating system code and a hastily cooked breakfast it was nearing time for the meeting with Caitlin. Taking a cue from her club attire he dressed down for the meeting - a pair of torn up jeans and a T-shirt with a weak joke about signal rectification on it and a parka over the whole affair to ward off Seattle's November rain. Nothing flasy, just comfortable working clothes.
He shot a text message off to Caitlin saying: "Meet you at the corner of 6th and Webster, we can hike from there." And rolled out to the nearest subway station.
He'd been trying this for three hours. It had started with getting every red sports car to stop over the manhole cover. After that was mastered he'd moved on to time trials and other activities to get a feel for the system and had worked on subtlety. It had been a long afternoon, but successful. He was pleased with how the whole affair had gone. He tossed the styrofoam cup containg the dregs of his artificial tea and munched the last of his cardboard flavor cookies as he left the balcony of "The Tea Place" (whose only claim to fame was its open air balcony) and headed for home late in the afternoon. It was a long, cold walk.
Cortex returned to his apartment and idled. An unfortunate byproduct of being able to run for 20 hour days was that he tended to keep odd hours and the four hours he slept crawled around his circadian rhythm like ants on an Escher painting. He could keep a schedule if he needed and could certainly keep appointments by forcing himself to stay awake a little longer or shorter as appropriate, but his thalamus didn't lend itself to a social calendar. This meant he had nervous energy to burn which cooking cheap noodles and jogging certainly weren't taking care of. He finally settled on writing some open source software because, even as tedious as NeoLinux was, it was better than doing nothing.
After another four hour nap and zombielike awakening, hours more of operating system code and a hastily cooked breakfast it was nearing time for the meeting with Caitlin. Taking a cue from her club attire he dressed down for the meeting - a pair of torn up jeans and a T-shirt with a weak joke about signal rectification on it and a parka over the whole affair to ward off Seattle's November rain. Nothing flasy, just comfortable working clothes.
He shot a text message off to Caitlin saying: "Meet you at the corner of 6th and Webster, we can hike from there." And rolled out to the nearest subway station.
With the chopper’s motor still in a low constant roar, George swung his legs off the bike, greeting Jaxon with a firm handshake and a good tap in the back. The ork ganger was one of his only pals from the neighborhood still left alive. If George had ever remotely looked like an ork, odds were he would have been standing beside Jaxon at this moment. But faith had decided to give him a different path.
“Hey chummer, how you doin’.”
George greeted the two other ork gangers with a nod, unsure if he had ever seen them before. The human looking ork did a rapid inventory of the cart, check the shotgun over to make sure it was in working order, and turning on both the smartgun and rangefinder unit. Everything seemed in working order… and George knew that Jaxon wouldn’t stiff him anyways.
“You got yourself a deal chummer.” said George in his usual booming voice as he reached in one of his pocket for a certified credstick.
“If you guys” he continued, as he started to transfer the gear to a large duffle bag he had brought “ever need a hand to crack some heads, give me a call” he added with a huge grin.
A few minutes later, George’s bike was back on the highway, roaring through the barrens towards his home. Time was starting to run short… He had to drop his stuff back at his place, and leave to meet with Miron.
“Hey chummer, how you doin’.”
George greeted the two other ork gangers with a nod, unsure if he had ever seen them before. The human looking ork did a rapid inventory of the cart, check the shotgun over to make sure it was in working order, and turning on both the smartgun and rangefinder unit. Everything seemed in working order… and George knew that Jaxon wouldn’t stiff him anyways.
“You got yourself a deal chummer.” said George in his usual booming voice as he reached in one of his pocket for a certified credstick.
“If you guys” he continued, as he started to transfer the gear to a large duffle bag he had brought “ever need a hand to crack some heads, give me a call” he added with a huge grin.
A few minutes later, George’s bike was back on the highway, roaring through the barrens towards his home. Time was starting to run short… He had to drop his stuff back at his place, and leave to meet with Miron.
Caitlin mentally debates with herself over getting one of those slim one-person cars, like a VW Electro. The trouble is, in her neighborhood, it would get jacked in under an hour after she parked it. Public transit is really starting to wear on her, though. At least this time there's no one leaning on her as an excuse to cop a feel - just an old man carrying on an animated conversation with either a hallucination, or a sim with the RAS override turned off.
She flips open her mini-umbrella as she steps out onto yet another drizzly day. At least it's normal rain, and not the all-too-common wind-driven rain that would make an umbrella useless. She scowls as she glimpses Andante, but the thin spellslinger is focused on getting into a cafe, out of the rain, and doesn't notice her. Good. A few blocks later, she spots Cortex, who seems to have dressed down for the meeting. She smiles at the irony. Well, at least she's dressed business casual. She nods amiably at him, trying to defuse the awkwardness by being less formal than she originally intended to be.
"Hey, Cortex. I'm ready to see how this device of yours works. I'm afraid my own contribution is a bit more low-tech, but it still might be helpful."
She flips open her mini-umbrella as she steps out onto yet another drizzly day. At least it's normal rain, and not the all-too-common wind-driven rain that would make an umbrella useless. She scowls as she glimpses Andante, but the thin spellslinger is focused on getting into a cafe, out of the rain, and doesn't notice her. Good. A few blocks later, she spots Cortex, who seems to have dressed down for the meeting. She smiles at the irony. Well, at least she's dressed business casual. She nods amiably at him, trying to defuse the awkwardness by being less formal than she originally intended to be.
"Hey, Cortex. I'm ready to see how this device of yours works. I'm afraid my own contribution is a bit more low-tech, but it still might be helpful."
Cortex had been waiting under an awning in an attempt to keep out of the rain. It wasn't working especially well and he was soaked from the knee down. In addition, the store clerk had been getting increasingly grumpy because of his sparse patronage. It was a relief to finally see Caitlin rounding the street corner.
As he fell into step she said "Hey, Cortex. I'm ready to see how this device of yours works. I'm afraid my own contribution is a bit more low-tech, but it still might be helpful."
Her suit didn't escape his attention. It suited her well and she certainly seemed more confident in it that in the club gear.
"I'm more than willing to show it off. Let's get moving." He replied flashing his award winning grin.
Cortex found these sorts of conversations awkward. There was a sort of workplace formality about them, but their workspace wasn't some cubicle maze, it was the street. As such, the conventions he carried from his corp days were out of place here. However, he was pleased that Caitlin didn't feel a need to chat much during their trip to the first site he'd picked out. Small talk was quiet, easy and restricted to the inclement weather by in large. He made a few snippets of information about the workings of his device available, but he knew as wells as the next technical professional that no one outside of the trade ever really enjoys listening to electrical engineeriing jargon and his discussion of polarized field emission devices fell upon what he assumed were deaf ears.
On reaching the first intersection in question, where a slew of businesses were in full bloom even during the rain, Cortex said "This is the first site. I think we can use the pair of lights as a bottleneck, but we need cover for pointing electrical boxes at stoplights. Would you prefer shopping or some afternoon tea?"
As he fell into step she said "Hey, Cortex. I'm ready to see how this device of yours works. I'm afraid my own contribution is a bit more low-tech, but it still might be helpful."
Her suit didn't escape his attention. It suited her well and she certainly seemed more confident in it that in the club gear.
"I'm more than willing to show it off. Let's get moving." He replied flashing his award winning grin.
Cortex found these sorts of conversations awkward. There was a sort of workplace formality about them, but their workspace wasn't some cubicle maze, it was the street. As such, the conventions he carried from his corp days were out of place here. However, he was pleased that Caitlin didn't feel a need to chat much during their trip to the first site he'd picked out. Small talk was quiet, easy and restricted to the inclement weather by in large. He made a few snippets of information about the workings of his device available, but he knew as wells as the next technical professional that no one outside of the trade ever really enjoys listening to electrical engineeriing jargon and his discussion of polarized field emission devices fell upon what he assumed were deaf ears.
On reaching the first intersection in question, where a slew of businesses were in full bloom even during the rain, Cortex said "This is the first site. I think we can use the pair of lights as a bottleneck, but we need cover for pointing electrical boxes at stoplights. Would you prefer shopping or some afternoon tea?"
Markus pulled out his cred stick, dialed up the amount and hit the transfer button. Once the transaction was complete he packed the armor away. "Thanks man, hopefully this will keep my ass safer than the last wearer of it. Let me know as soon as you have any of the other information I need."
Caitlin smiles. "Tea would be fine. It will get us out of this rain for a bit. And I've already done my afternoon shopping, although it probably wasn't as interesting as the others'."
She makes innocuous small talk as Cortex demonstrates his device. She can see the possibilities. "Yes, that will get them to stop for a bit, and that's all we need to hit them. I have some splash grenades, some with paint and some with slip spray. Another vehicle to block them would help, too, but we might not be able to swing that. And George will be bringing the heavier armament. Hopefully we won't need to use it against the truck itself. And Markus will be trying to compromise one of the guards, although I don't hold out too much hope for that given our time constraints."
After the demonstration is over, as they are sipping the remainder of their drinks, she frowns slightly as she brings up something else. "One more thing, and I will say it at the general meeting too. A lot of companies would shrug, and consider a hit like this part of the game that they all play. I think Dassurn will take it more personally. They have a reputation for being vindictive, and we're going to be harming the core of their reputation. We should take care to conceal our faces and eliminate traces, and laying low for a while afterwards might be a good idea, too."
She makes innocuous small talk as Cortex demonstrates his device. She can see the possibilities. "Yes, that will get them to stop for a bit, and that's all we need to hit them. I have some splash grenades, some with paint and some with slip spray. Another vehicle to block them would help, too, but we might not be able to swing that. And George will be bringing the heavier armament. Hopefully we won't need to use it against the truck itself. And Markus will be trying to compromise one of the guards, although I don't hold out too much hope for that given our time constraints."
After the demonstration is over, as they are sipping the remainder of their drinks, she frowns slightly as she brings up something else. "One more thing, and I will say it at the general meeting too. A lot of companies would shrug, and consider a hit like this part of the game that they all play. I think Dassurn will take it more personally. They have a reputation for being vindictive, and we're going to be harming the core of their reputation. We should take care to conceal our faces and eliminate traces, and laying low for a while afterwards might be a good idea, too."
@ Markus:
Markus' fixer slaps his forehead with his palm as Markus broaches the subject of the data on dassurn personnel.
"if my head wasn't attached," he muttered, "I've snooped around at their personnel list, but things are buttoned up pretty tight. I couldn't find anything to tasty on the any of the security staff. But a little birdy told me that a DSI vehicle maintainence worker name Jack Frady has a tendency to visit a Yak brothel in the International District down town. Club's name is.. " he blanks for a moment, and than begins scrounging through his pockets, from which he pulls a card. "ah yes, here it is, the Steel Crane" The fixer offers Markus the business card, which advertises "Massage and Relaxation Therapy" It has a downtown address.
Markus' fixer slaps his forehead with his palm as Markus broaches the subject of the data on dassurn personnel.
"if my head wasn't attached," he muttered, "I've snooped around at their personnel list, but things are buttoned up pretty tight. I couldn't find anything to tasty on the any of the security staff. But a little birdy told me that a DSI vehicle maintainence worker name Jack Frady has a tendency to visit a Yak brothel in the International District down town. Club's name is.. " he blanks for a moment, and than begins scrounging through his pockets, from which he pulls a card. "ah yes, here it is, the Steel Crane" The fixer offers Markus the business card, which advertises "Massage and Relaxation Therapy" It has a downtown address.
"Laying low? I could have sworn someone was making fun of me for suggesting we find a safehouse last meeting. Could it have been you?" He said as a smile crept across his carefully controlled face.
"That aside, I was planning on bringing a box of ski masks and cheap gloves. My training in shaking magical tails is a bit shaky but I seem to recall it focusing mostly on not leaving blood everywhere. If things go well we shouldn't have to worry about that, but filling a splash grenade with bleach would go a long way towards cleaning up the site. That is, if you can spare one. We shouldn't leave a matrix trace and I trust that the general body meeting will produce some way to shake them physically."
"I confess that I don't know much about Dassurn. Is it possible that this hit will put them off balance enough to keep them off of our tails? They're not going to recoup any losses by making us dead (except in deterring future shadow action I suppose), which would make me suspect that we'd be left alone once we fenced the data. We'll need a good fence to take it off our hands though -- I'd hate to be holding onto it when Dassurn comes looking."
He looked at the sliding patterns the drizzle was forming on the plate glass window. Few things in this world left him more content that tea in the rain. He held onto that sensation to offset the growing worry that he'd neglected the most crucial part of their plan: getting away.
"That aside, I was planning on bringing a box of ski masks and cheap gloves. My training in shaking magical tails is a bit shaky but I seem to recall it focusing mostly on not leaving blood everywhere. If things go well we shouldn't have to worry about that, but filling a splash grenade with bleach would go a long way towards cleaning up the site. That is, if you can spare one. We shouldn't leave a matrix trace and I trust that the general body meeting will produce some way to shake them physically."
"I confess that I don't know much about Dassurn. Is it possible that this hit will put them off balance enough to keep them off of our tails? They're not going to recoup any losses by making us dead (except in deterring future shadow action I suppose), which would make me suspect that we'd be left alone once we fenced the data. We'll need a good fence to take it off our hands though -- I'd hate to be holding onto it when Dassurn comes looking."
He looked at the sliding patterns the drizzle was forming on the plate glass window. Few things in this world left him more content that tea in the rain. He held onto that sensation to offset the growing worry that he'd neglected the most crucial part of their plan: getting away.
Caitlin answers Cortex's slight smile with one of her own, then listens with a more serious expression on her face, before replying.
"No worries on the splash grenades - I have plenty for our needs. Hopefully, though, the only blood that we spill will be theirs. I've seen the two gunmen in action, and I can vouch for their speed and accuracy. I have a spell that will also help to remove any incriminating traces, and I am reasonably certain that I will have time to clean up my aura before we have to flee."
She drums her fingers on the countertop thoughtfully.
"As far as Dassurn goes, I think they are like the Aztechs - quick to use dirty tricks themselves, but petulantly vindictive when they get a taste of their own medicine. I agree that we need to expedite fencing the data, but we should still lay low for awhile, just to be safe. We can probably discuss the rest of the plan at the meeting."
Caitlin falls silent, as Cortex gazes out at the rain. She is thoughtful as she heads home. Later, she sits crosslegged as she chants her meditations, but the state of gnosis is far from her - the pre-job edginess keeps hovering over her thoughts. She will be glad when this one is over. Even if all goes well, it will still be a nasty fight.
"No worries on the splash grenades - I have plenty for our needs. Hopefully, though, the only blood that we spill will be theirs. I've seen the two gunmen in action, and I can vouch for their speed and accuracy. I have a spell that will also help to remove any incriminating traces, and I am reasonably certain that I will have time to clean up my aura before we have to flee."
She drums her fingers on the countertop thoughtfully.
"As far as Dassurn goes, I think they are like the Aztechs - quick to use dirty tricks themselves, but petulantly vindictive when they get a taste of their own medicine. I agree that we need to expedite fencing the data, but we should still lay low for awhile, just to be safe. We can probably discuss the rest of the plan at the meeting."
Caitlin falls silent, as Cortex gazes out at the rain. She is thoughtful as she heads home. Later, she sits crosslegged as she chants her meditations, but the state of gnosis is far from her - the pre-job edginess keeps hovering over her thoughts. She will be glad when this one is over. Even if all goes well, it will still be a nasty fight.
After the tea is finished Cortex shows Caitlin the second ste and the two go their separate ways before the group meeting.
While humming on the train ride home, Cortex realized that he had forgotten about the Gridguide camera at the second site. He needed to come up with a technical solution to that before the meeting or the team could go for the public bloodbath in the shopping center rather than the out of the way one way street. Cursing the time he'd wasted yesterday he vaulted into his apartment and began tearing his supplies apart in a fury of productivity ...
He barely had time to remeber to throw courdoroy pants and a tweed jacket on for the meet and was still tinkering on the train to Matchsticks. Soldering iron in one pocket and concealed pistol in the other; he was likely to have some explainig to do at the club's door.
While humming on the train ride home, Cortex realized that he had forgotten about the Gridguide camera at the second site. He needed to come up with a technical solution to that before the meeting or the team could go for the public bloodbath in the shopping center rather than the out of the way one way street. Cursing the time he'd wasted yesterday he vaulted into his apartment and began tearing his supplies apart in a fury of productivity ...
He barely had time to remeber to throw courdoroy pants and a tweed jacket on for the meet and was still tinkering on the train to Matchsticks. Soldering iron in one pocket and concealed pistol in the other; he was likely to have some explainig to do at the club's door.
George meets Miron in an underground parking garage the fixer identified, and has George roars in on his motorcycle he sees Miron leaning up against a long grey van.
"hoi George." Miron offer. "I've got some good news, and some bad news. I found the LMG but it's gonna cost ya. "Its all in here." He opens the back door of the van, and pulls out a large black canvas duffle bag, and a long thin cardboard box. "Total price comes in at 6160, about two-thirds of that is the Valiant, so if you don't want it, that's fine, I think I can find a taker. But do whatever ya feel."
(later)
George parked his bike outside a Fort Lewis club with garish lights. If the one sign which didn't feature a giant neon outline of a girl was any indication, the club was called "Sleaze". If the two gorilla sized goons in suits were any indication, the club was mobbed up. Stepping inside heavily...augmented ladies cavorted while men, mostly military types from the look of them watched on. Hummins had his feet up on a table in the way back, he waves George over. As George sits down Hummins kicks a small black knapsack over. "here's ya go chum. price is 850, which I think is a steal by the way..."
"hoi George." Miron offer. "I've got some good news, and some bad news. I found the LMG but it's gonna cost ya. "Its all in here." He opens the back door of the van, and pulls out a large black canvas duffle bag, and a long thin cardboard box. "Total price comes in at
6160, about two-thirds of that is the Valiant, so if you don't want it, that's fine, I think I can find a taker. But do whatever ya feel."(later)
George parked his bike outside a Fort Lewis club with garish lights. If the one sign which didn't feature a giant neon outline of a girl was any indication, the club was called "Sleaze". If the two gorilla sized goons in suits were any indication, the club was mobbed up. Stepping inside heavily...augmented ladies cavorted while men, mostly military types from the look of them watched on. Hummins had his feet up on a table in the way back, he waves George over. As George sits down Hummins kicks a small black knapsack over. "here's ya go chum. price is 850, which I think is a steal by the way..."
"Thanks, I'm sure that will come in handy." Markus bid Ballentyne farewell and headed back to his place, upon returning home he sent out a message, "Anyone familiar with vehicles, I've managed to locate one of the mechanics who works on their delivery trucks, he may be able to give us some good information, seems he likes to hang out at a certain Club Downtown called Steel Crane. I'm sure he'd just love to talk to a fellow mechanic, or posibly the lure of a lovely lady.
Parking the bike next to the van, George threw a large razor filled smile.
“ ‘Sup Miron. You got what I need?”
As the fixer spoke of prices and such, the ork gave the goods a quick once over. The Valiant was actually lighter than he had expected, and it could easily sport the external smart link he had just got from Jaxon. Zipping the bag back, he swung the sling around his head and across his back, the weight of the squad support gun barely making him flinch.
What did amaze George was the fact that Miron had also gotten his hands on the LAW. The thing was a fragging rocket launcher… and he had found it, in Seattle, in less than 24 hours.
“Null presp chummer; I’ll take the piece.” He said while securing the box to his chopper.
As he threw Miron his payment for a job very well done, George kicked the leg stand off his bike.
“I’ll probably give you a call again, in a few days… Goods to unload.”
The bike roar to life again.
“Take care of yourself chummer. I’ll see you around the plexe.”
And the ork was off again.
A few hours later, after having a few brews and stories shared with Hummins, George had gotten back home, locking everything safely away in his footlocker. Thankful that Judith wasn’t back home, at least not yet, the ork crumbled on the couch, turning the trid on to the local urban brawl game and sending a quick message to the rest of the team.
Like his usual self, he was straight to the point.
<<Heavy good to go.>>
It was only later that he actually took notice of Markus' message.
<<Not my field. Page me if you need me>>
“ ‘Sup Miron. You got what I need?”
As the fixer spoke of prices and such, the ork gave the goods a quick once over. The Valiant was actually lighter than he had expected, and it could easily sport the external smart link he had just got from Jaxon. Zipping the bag back, he swung the sling around his head and across his back, the weight of the squad support gun barely making him flinch.
What did amaze George was the fact that Miron had also gotten his hands on the LAW. The thing was a fragging rocket launcher… and he had found it, in Seattle, in less than 24 hours.
“Null presp chummer; I’ll take the piece.” He said while securing the box to his chopper.
As he threw Miron his payment for a job very well done, George kicked the leg stand off his bike.
“I’ll probably give you a call again, in a few days… Goods to unload.”
The bike roar to life again.
“Take care of yourself chummer. I’ll see you around the plexe.”
And the ork was off again.
A few hours later, after having a few brews and stories shared with Hummins, George had gotten back home, locking everything safely away in his footlocker. Thankful that Judith wasn’t back home, at least not yet, the ork crumbled on the couch, turning the trid on to the local urban brawl game and sending a quick message to the rest of the team.
Like his usual self, he was straight to the point.
<<Heavy good to go.>>
It was only later that he actually took notice of Markus' message.
<<Not my field. Page me if you need me>>
Night Fall, MatchSticks Night Club, Seattle
The crowd at Matchsticks is pretty good considering that its still relatively early, but it does help the team find a nice quiet corner to discuss their plans, now that each member has rounded up the goodies which they might need. This portion of the preliminaries has taken up two days, there are still two days remaining until the armored car would make its rounds... with hopefully one unscheduled delay.
The crowd at Matchsticks is pretty good considering that its still relatively early, but it does help the team find a nice quiet corner to discuss their plans, now that each member has rounded up the goodies which they might need. This portion of the preliminaries has taken up two days, there are still two days remaining until the armored car would make its rounds... with hopefully one unscheduled delay.
As usual, George had showed up early. As usual, he wore his grey stripped suit. Truth be told, it was his only suit. He could have very well bought another one, but he wore it on such a rare basis that he had never felt the need to diversify.
Both of his large paws set on the table, an untouched bottled beer siting between them, George decided to open the discussion. He kept his voice low enough just to be heard by the table.
"For my part, I've secured enough hardware to deal with anything we might be faced with: enough plastic to blow the doors off, modified shooter to take locks off, support shooter with enough ammo for days, capsules rounds to melt plastic and glass and..." he gave a small smirk of satisfaction "light anti tank rockets."
He leaned back, taking a first swig out of his beer.
"I do hope we use very little of all this... but I'd rather we be prepared for anything. Having worked with our employer before... we shouldn't take things lightly."
Both of his large paws set on the table, an untouched bottled beer siting between them, George decided to open the discussion. He kept his voice low enough just to be heard by the table.
"For my part, I've secured enough hardware to deal with anything we might be faced with: enough plastic to blow the doors off, modified shooter to take locks off, support shooter with enough ammo for days, capsules rounds to melt plastic and glass and..." he gave a small smirk of satisfaction "light anti tank rockets."
He leaned back, taking a first swig out of his beer.
"I do hope we use very little of all this... but I'd rather we be prepared for anything. Having worked with our employer before... we shouldn't take things lightly."
Cortex was surprised that the doorman had let him through. No one had batted an eye at the assortment of electronics and firearms he had dumped into the deposit box at the door and the troll bouncer had even let him through wearing less than designer shoes. Of course, by that point he was turning on the charm and was pleased that it had paid off.
He wasn't surprised to see that Pliskin had arrived first. It seemed in character. He eased into the booth across from the hefty gunman and made the most engaging small talk he could with his wall like compatriot.
After the meeting proper started and Pliskin make his statement, Cortex chimed in with, "I've found a couple of sites along the truck's route where a little bit of technical magic can stop it dead. One of them has a very nice firing position and the other has room for a getaway car to be easily concealed. On the downside, one has camera coverage -- which I can take care of given a bit more time -- and the other is a busy street."
"I think our basic plan is simple enough: stop the van, take everything inside at gunpoint, head for the hills. However, I'm concerned about how precisely we're getting away from the scene."
He wasn't surprised to see that Pliskin had arrived first. It seemed in character. He eased into the booth across from the hefty gunman and made the most engaging small talk he could with his wall like compatriot.
After the meeting proper started and Pliskin make his statement, Cortex chimed in with, "I've found a couple of sites along the truck's route where a little bit of technical magic can stop it dead. One of them has a very nice firing position and the other has room for a getaway car to be easily concealed. On the downside, one has camera coverage -- which I can take care of given a bit more time -- and the other is a busy street."
"I think our basic plan is simple enough: stop the van, take everything inside at gunpoint, head for the hills. However, I'm concerned about how precisely we're getting away from the scene."
Caitlin is dressed in sharper attire this time, a matching dark skirt and jacket with a paler lacy blouse - looking like a slumming corporate shark out for chum.
She grins at George. "Yes, we definitely don't want to take things lightly. My own contribution is a bit more modest - some splash grenades with slip spray and paint to make sure the van is briefly disabled after Cortex stops it, along with a few more filled with bleach to help clean up the evidence. Although hopefully, if any bleeding is to be done, they will be doing it."
She nods at Cortex's last statement. "In my experience, simple usually works best. And you've put your finger on the one part we haven't worked out yet... how we're getting away. The optimal solution would be a disposable getaway car, one that we can drive just far enough to throw off pursuit, before splitting up and going to ground. The car could also do double duty in helping to block their way right after we stop the van."
She turns to Markus. "I got your message late last night, so I decided to wait until the meeting to discuss it. We can all hash out what we might want to do if we can subvert this mechanic you've located, or what information we might need from him."
She grins at George. "Yes, we definitely don't want to take things lightly. My own contribution is a bit more modest - some splash grenades with slip spray and paint to make sure the van is briefly disabled after Cortex stops it, along with a few more filled with bleach to help clean up the evidence. Although hopefully, if any bleeding is to be done, they will be doing it."
She nods at Cortex's last statement. "In my experience, simple usually works best. And you've put your finger on the one part we haven't worked out yet... how we're getting away. The optimal solution would be a disposable getaway car, one that we can drive just far enough to throw off pursuit, before splitting up and going to ground. The car could also do double duty in helping to block their way right after we stop the van."
She turns to Markus. "I got your message late last night, so I decided to wait until the meeting to discuss it. We can all hash out what we might want to do if we can subvert this mechanic you've located, or what information we might need from him."
Markus rocked up shortly after the others but not late. He quietly listened to what everyone had to say.
"Sounds good, I'm not sure what sort of information we might get out of him, my best bet would posibly be location of alarm/monitoring systems which we might then be able to disable to prevent suspicion, seeing as we are supposed to try make the switch without them knowing. Which might put a dent in the whole stopping part if the vehicle is unable to complete its route. Prehaps if we're lucky some weakness in the vehicles construction or prehaps some known fault, or prehaps a frequence which it operates on grid guide with or even a transponder code if it has, that might open a couple of options without having to physicaly stop it."
"Sounds good, I'm not sure what sort of information we might get out of him, my best bet would posibly be location of alarm/monitoring systems which we might then be able to disable to prevent suspicion, seeing as we are supposed to try make the switch without them knowing. Which might put a dent in the whole stopping part if the vehicle is unable to complete its route. Prehaps if we're lucky some weakness in the vehicles construction or prehaps some known fault, or prehaps a frequence which it operates on grid guide with or even a transponder code if it has, that might open a couple of options without having to physicaly stop it."
Caitlin nods at Marcus.
"That sounds promising. However, we only have two days before the job. That's not a lot of time to subvert someone. I draw the line at out-and-out torturing someone, although I don't have a problem with using some strong-arm tactics if needed. There's also bribery.
But extortion and bribery are both pretty unreliable if you don't have something to hold over them, or some kind of handle to manipulate them with. So as promising as the information sounds, we may need to pass on it, if getting it will jeapordize the entire mission.
Unless there is some kind of handle we can use on this guy? Resentment for his employers, gambling debts, unsavory habits that he doesn't want his superiors to know about?"
"That sounds promising. However, we only have two days before the job. That's not a lot of time to subvert someone. I draw the line at out-and-out torturing someone, although I don't have a problem with using some strong-arm tactics if needed. There's also bribery.
But extortion and bribery are both pretty unreliable if you don't have something to hold over them, or some kind of handle to manipulate them with. So as promising as the information sounds, we may need to pass on it, if getting it will jeapordize the entire mission.
Unless there is some kind of handle we can use on this guy? Resentment for his employers, gambling debts, unsavory habits that he doesn't want his superiors to know about?"
"I suppose that I could sit down with the tech and just pump him for information. Technicians talking shop can lead to a lot of insight," Cortex offered. "However, that's not as likely to lead to anything really valuable as some sort of phsycial or financial violence is."
As he listened to his fellow runners discuss the fine points of the operation, George's eyes kept roaming around the club, trying to keep out for curious patrons.
"I agree that we need some sort of vehicle to make our getaway... and to haul back anything we get from the hit. Hobbes mentionned that the van would be carrying other valuable items. Issue is; we have no idea how big they are, how heavy and what their sizes are... Which means we have to plan in accordance."
The discussion went on, and the big ork finally took his mirror shades off... only to polish them on his suit.
"Alright... I don't know about this talk of trying to turn a guy. Takes too much time and it's too flaky. Frag all this tip toeing through the fragging tulips. I say we just stick a block of plastic on one of the front wheel while it's at a light and just blow it the frag off. With three wheels, that truck won't be going no where. We have to keep this as simple as possible..."
Putting his shades back on, George leaned slightly forward, hushing his booming voice.
"Here is what I say we do. Cortex here makes sure that the van stops at a light. We block it's front view with our own vehicle. Someone pulls next to the truck, stick the plastic in place. Boom it goes, the truck is stuck where it is. We use Caitlin's paint grenades to blind the drivers. Now, at that point, two things can happen, and one will for sure. What will happen is that they will call for help. Lonestar, their own security, KE, whatever. Once they send their distress out, the clock starts to run."
George took a brief pause, downing part of his beer.
"As I said; from there, two things can happen. One: they all stay in the van and wait for us. Or two: they come out to meet us. If they come out, we gun them down. If they don't... then we blow the van's back door out, toss in a smoke and fill the thing with as much lead as possible. We then make the data switch, grab some stuff to throw them off track and peel out. I didn't mention it, but I got us some police spike strips to lay across the street... "
"I agree that we need some sort of vehicle to make our getaway... and to haul back anything we get from the hit. Hobbes mentionned that the van would be carrying other valuable items. Issue is; we have no idea how big they are, how heavy and what their sizes are... Which means we have to plan in accordance."
The discussion went on, and the big ork finally took his mirror shades off... only to polish them on his suit.
"Alright... I don't know about this talk of trying to turn a guy. Takes too much time and it's too flaky. Frag all this tip toeing through the fragging tulips. I say we just stick a block of plastic on one of the front wheel while it's at a light and just blow it the frag off. With three wheels, that truck won't be going no where. We have to keep this as simple as possible..."
Putting his shades back on, George leaned slightly forward, hushing his booming voice.
"Here is what I say we do. Cortex here makes sure that the van stops at a light. We block it's front view with our own vehicle. Someone pulls next to the truck, stick the plastic in place. Boom it goes, the truck is stuck where it is. We use Caitlin's paint grenades to blind the drivers. Now, at that point, two things can happen, and one will for sure. What will happen is that they will call for help. Lonestar, their own security, KE, whatever. Once they send their distress out, the clock starts to run."
George took a brief pause, downing part of his beer.
"As I said; from there, two things can happen. One: they all stay in the van and wait for us. Or two: they come out to meet us. If they come out, we gun them down. If they don't... then we blow the van's back door out, toss in a smoke and fill the thing with as much lead as possible. We then make the data switch, grab some stuff to throw them off track and peel out. I didn't mention it, but I got us some police spike strips to lay across the street... "
"I've got a jammer and if we've got a commuter car we can use the battery and antenna on it. We can kill any cries for help they put up and probably the local cell phone grid if we get a big enough car."
Pausing a bit, Cortex said:
"I'd rather gas the people in back than shoot them. If they come out to us we don't have much of a choice, but if we replace your smoke grenades with some neurostun we can even get away from this with only aggravated assault and grand theft auto. Keeps us out of the line of fire too. Of course, I'll defer to the tactical types on this decision."
Cortex assumed his statement would fall on deaf ears, but it was worth a shot. He could sleep with his conscience clear as long as he spoke up at least once.
"Also, where are we getting the car and which site are we going to use for the hit?"
Pausing a bit, Cortex said:
"I'd rather gas the people in back than shoot them. If they come out to us we don't have much of a choice, but if we replace your smoke grenades with some neurostun we can even get away from this with only aggravated assault and grand theft auto. Keeps us out of the line of fire too. Of course, I'll defer to the tactical types on this decision."
Cortex assumed his statement would fall on deaf ears, but it was worth a shot. He could sleep with his conscience clear as long as he spoke up at least once.
"Also, where are we getting the car and which site are we going to use for the hit?"
Caitlin listens to the others before chiming back in herself.
"I agree that two days probably isn't enough time to subvert someone... again, assuming that Marcus hasn't found out some kind of leverage we can use against this guy. Some knowledge of the van's internal security would help us get the loot out more quickly and with less worries. At this point, though, it falls under the "nice if we can do it" category. Getting a getaway car is our main concern right now.
I was hoping one of you might have some contacts that could get us a getaway vehicle quickly, but if not, we could always pick up a junker from one of the less reputable used car lots - they usually take certified cred, and it'll probably only cost a few hundred nuyen. After all, we don't need to outrun police cruisers in it, and we'll be getting rid of it soon after the run.
As far as where to hit them, I think we will probably wind up using the spot with a good place to hide the car. And George is right. We need to hit them fast and hard. If anyone can get some neurostun, that stuff is damn effective - but they are wearing full-body suits, and their helmets might have respirators, so we can't rely on it. I'll be ready to stun them - packed in tight quarters, I should be able to get them all at once. But I'm not as fast as the wired guys are, so their will probably be some gunfire exchanged, and we can't afford to pull any punches. Sorry, Cortex. If we are lucky, we will pull this off without killing anyone, but only if we're lucky.
The jammer is a good idea, and might keep the police away a bit longer, but the van probably checks in on regular intervals, if they aren't in continuous radio contact with their own security. So once we hit them, the clock does indeed start ticking."
"I agree that two days probably isn't enough time to subvert someone... again, assuming that Marcus hasn't found out some kind of leverage we can use against this guy. Some knowledge of the van's internal security would help us get the loot out more quickly and with less worries. At this point, though, it falls under the "nice if we can do it" category. Getting a getaway car is our main concern right now.
I was hoping one of you might have some contacts that could get us a getaway vehicle quickly, but if not, we could always pick up a junker from one of the less reputable used car lots - they usually take certified cred, and it'll probably only cost a few hundred nuyen. After all, we don't need to outrun police cruisers in it, and we'll be getting rid of it soon after the run.
As far as where to hit them, I think we will probably wind up using the spot with a good place to hide the car. And George is right. We need to hit them fast and hard. If anyone can get some neurostun, that stuff is damn effective - but they are wearing full-body suits, and their helmets might have respirators, so we can't rely on it. I'll be ready to stun them - packed in tight quarters, I should be able to get them all at once. But I'm not as fast as the wired guys are, so their will probably be some gunfire exchanged, and we can't afford to pull any punches. Sorry, Cortex. If we are lucky, we will pull this off without killing anyone, but only if we're lucky.
The jammer is a good idea, and might keep the police away a bit longer, but the van probably checks in on regular intervals, if they aren't in continuous radio contact with their own security. So once we hit them, the clock does indeed start ticking."
"Well the other thing we might be able to get out of him is posibly a radio frequency or maybe the transpoder override or disabler in case of a hijacking. Disabling the car from be able to start till we're gone might be usefull. As for bribery material, not much unless he's open to a few freebies on our account."
As for stunning them, stun grenades in a confined space work just as well as neurostun."
As for stunning them, stun grenades in a confined space work just as well as neurostun."
The night is continuing to wind on, Matchsticks is getting tighter with more people looking for business, or pleasure or both. Once the sun comes up you'll have two more days to make your final arrangements before its time to 'run.
Caitlin looks around as she senses the conversation dying down, and sees that the plan is about as clear as it's going to get.
"Well, looks like we've hashed things out pretty well. Cortex, why don't you give us the details about the location. I'll pick up a disposable junker tomorrow and pick you all up, say at that corner a few blocks from here, the one with a Mochajino's and a Maximart? After the run, we'll clean up any traces and get rid of it. Heh, all we need to do is park it for a few minutes in some neighborhoods, and some punks will boost it."
She shrugs.
"Markus, maybe you and Cortex can talk shop with that mechanic, and get a few tidbits of nice-to-know information. But let's not count on it. We'll keep things nice and simple, and do it fast and hard. Anyone else have any last minute ideas or questions?"
Later, the next morning, dressed way down, Caitlin haggles with a greasy mechanic over a venerable Ford Americar, which she explains is for her stupid cousin to drive for a few months, until his uncle gets a new car, and gives him his old one. She is wearing gaudy sunglasses, which will hopefully be the main thing this guy remembers about her. As she drives the clunker off the lot, she reflects that she will probably have to park it in a parking garage tonight... she wasn't kidding about how fast a car can get boosted in her neighborhood.
"Well, looks like we've hashed things out pretty well. Cortex, why don't you give us the details about the location. I'll pick up a disposable junker tomorrow and pick you all up, say at that corner a few blocks from here, the one with a Mochajino's and a Maximart? After the run, we'll clean up any traces and get rid of it. Heh, all we need to do is park it for a few minutes in some neighborhoods, and some punks will boost it."
She shrugs.
"Markus, maybe you and Cortex can talk shop with that mechanic, and get a few tidbits of nice-to-know information. But let's not count on it. We'll keep things nice and simple, and do it fast and hard. Anyone else have any last minute ideas or questions?"
Later, the next morning, dressed way down, Caitlin haggles with a greasy mechanic over a venerable Ford Americar, which she explains is for her stupid cousin to drive for a few months, until his uncle gets a new car, and gives him his old one. She is wearing gaudy sunglasses, which will hopefully be the main thing this guy remembers about her. As she drives the clunker off the lot, she reflects that she will probably have to park it in a parking garage tonight... she wasn't kidding about how fast a car can get boosted in her neighborhood.
The car salesman, a sniveling midget of a man, initially offers a 5 year old Ford Americar for 15,000. When Caitlin balks, the man backpedals furiously. They find a 15 year old ford americar. It its left rear window appears to be taped into position. It's speedometer indicates 260,000 miles, and a impressive gash has been made across the bumper. Twp red fuzz dice dangle from the rearview mirror.
After doing a little bit of hunting she happens upon an underground parking lot which local group of young aspiring gangers accept scrip in exchange for keeping the car safe.
15,000. When Caitlin balks, the man backpedals furiously. They find a 15 year old ford americar. It its left rear window appears to be taped into position. It's speedometer indicates 260,000 miles, and a impressive gash has been made across the bumper. Twp red fuzz dice dangle from the rearview mirror.After doing a little bit of hunting she happens upon an underground parking lot which local group of young aspiring gangers accept scrip in exchange for keeping the car safe.
Cortex left Matchsticks and immediately placed a call to spinner.
Getting the inevitable voice message he said:
"Spinner, I'm going to need a place to go to ground in the near future. Are there any safehouses immediately available? I'll pay for the next week, ideally in some festering hellhole with a matrix uplink."
Thinking a bit he adds, "Also, a dodge scoot and some neurostun grenades would be nice. I know the gas is a stretch, but the scooter shouldn't be too hard to find."
He took the train home with a worried expression on his face, the tactical details the team had hammered out over the last round had involved him running electrical warfare (which he was fine with, in fact slightly happy about) and serving as a getaway driver, which scared him shitless. John knew he had trouble on icy roads, fleeing from the police seemed like a stretch for his level of expertise.
On the bright side, he mused I'll be busy until the hit.
Getting the inevitable voice message he said:
"Spinner, I'm going to need a place to go to ground in the near future. Are there any safehouses immediately available? I'll pay for the next week, ideally in some festering hellhole with a matrix uplink."
Thinking a bit he adds, "Also, a dodge scoot and some neurostun grenades would be nice. I know the gas is a stretch, but the scooter shouldn't be too hard to find."
He took the train home with a worried expression on his face, the tactical details the team had hammered out over the last round had involved him running electrical warfare (which he was fine with, in fact slightly happy about) and serving as a getaway driver, which scared him shitless. John knew he had trouble on icy roads, fleeing from the police seemed like a stretch for his level of expertise.
On the bright side, he mused I'll be busy until the hit.
Skidding around the corner in the beat up Americar, Cortex narrowly avoided colliding with a motorcyclist then zipped into an alley to park for a deep breath. It wasn't the first person (or tree) he'd narrowly avoided in the past 36 hours...
After he got home from Matchstick's, John had decided to tackle the driving problem the only way he knew how and dived into every technical manual on car operation he could find. He was a bit dissappointed to discover that cars were much more complicated than he anticipated; there might even have been as much to the field as computers.
Hours of study later he had called Caitlin to affirm that the junker was available and he mentiioined that he'd need to test drive it to be best able to serve as a wheel man. She had, of course, turned the vehicle over to him. He even managed to get out of sight in the Seatlle traffic without causing a stir.
He started in the parking lots, learning to feel out when the tires were skidding and figuring out the best way to accelerate. A few jumped medians and missed trees later he was raising hell on the back roads, learning how to speed, how to weave through traffic and how to lose a tail (a go-gang had taken a distant interest, but Greg had only needed to turn a few corners before a slower moving target came along.)
Then came the freeways and highways and the near disasters of rush hour and finally this godfosaken cyclist, but John was going to make it back home.
John arrived in Auburn safely and after using the gas station, managed to find a parking ramp near his apartment and some street kids willing to keep an eye on the car in exchange 300 of his rapidly diminishing cash supply. He happily rotated tires and poked at engines trying, with his limited experience, to figure out why the vehicle kept belching black smoke. He didn't make much headway, but felt accomplished.
The hit was looming large, but he could at least feel prepared for his role. Now there was only packing, sleeping and installing the electronics in the car before he was good to go ...
After he got home from Matchstick's, John had decided to tackle the driving problem the only way he knew how and dived into every technical manual on car operation he could find. He was a bit dissappointed to discover that cars were much more complicated than he anticipated; there might even have been as much to the field as computers.
Hours of study later he had called Caitlin to affirm that the junker was available and he mentiioined that he'd need to test drive it to be best able to serve as a wheel man. She had, of course, turned the vehicle over to him. He even managed to get out of sight in the Seatlle traffic without causing a stir.
He started in the parking lots, learning to feel out when the tires were skidding and figuring out the best way to accelerate. A few jumped medians and missed trees later he was raising hell on the back roads, learning how to speed, how to weave through traffic and how to lose a tail (a go-gang had taken a distant interest, but Greg had only needed to turn a few corners before a slower moving target came along.)
Then came the freeways and highways and the near disasters of rush hour and finally this godfosaken cyclist, but John was going to make it back home.
John arrived in Auburn safely and after using the gas station, managed to find a parking ramp near his apartment and some street kids willing to keep an eye on the car in exchange 300
of his rapidly diminishing cash supply. He happily rotated tires and poked at engines trying, with his limited experience, to figure out why the vehicle kept belching black smoke. He didn't make much headway, but felt accomplished.The hit was looming large, but he could at least feel prepared for his role. Now there was only packing, sleeping and installing the electronics in the car before he was good to go ...
The Day Arrives...
The team is picked up by Cortex, their new wheelman extraordinaire. Everyone is loaded for the worst case scenario, especially their ork street sam George. There are about 3 hours remaining before the target is supposed to leave the DSI building, giving them plenty of time to disable cameras or make final preparations on site.
The team is picked up by Cortex, their new wheelman extraordinaire. Everyone is loaded for the worst case scenario, especially their ork street sam George. There are about 3 hours remaining before the target is supposed to leave the DSI building, giving them plenty of time to disable cameras or make final preparations on site.
Leaving the meet at Matchstick, George had gone straight home. There was always a chance that in two days he might never come home… And so, he had spent all his waking hours with Judith.
When the first night finally swung around, and Judith, all glad her husband wasn’t on the job, went to bed quietly and content. It was during that time the big ork prepared the two explosives charges he’d need in 24 hours… quietly and content on the kitchen table.
Not far from his working table, he could see the Ingram’s barrel poking out of the open giant gear trunk. Once the baby was born, he’d have to be slightly more careful about where his stuff laid.
Rubbing his tired eyes, George went back to work.
----
Barely fitting in the back seat of the car, George felt twice as heavy as usual. The Ingram and LAW were simply lying down on the floor, at his feet… with the hope of not having to be use. As for the ork gunner himself, he was sporting more firepower than a tank, which was pretty much how he felt today. The Ares High Velocity Assault Rifle that hung under his long coat made the ride very uncomfortable. Shifting it to his lap, George started to subtlety drum his nervous hands on the weapon.
Soon, things would kick into gear.
When the first night finally swung around, and Judith, all glad her husband wasn’t on the job, went to bed quietly and content. It was during that time the big ork prepared the two explosives charges he’d need in 24 hours… quietly and content on the kitchen table.
Not far from his working table, he could see the Ingram’s barrel poking out of the open giant gear trunk. Once the baby was born, he’d have to be slightly more careful about where his stuff laid.
Rubbing his tired eyes, George went back to work.
----
Barely fitting in the back seat of the car, George felt twice as heavy as usual. The Ingram and LAW were simply lying down on the floor, at his feet… with the hope of not having to be use. As for the ork gunner himself, he was sporting more firepower than a tank, which was pretty much how he felt today. The Ares High Velocity Assault Rifle that hung under his long coat made the ride very uncomfortable. Shifting it to his lap, George started to subtlety drum his nervous hands on the weapon.
Soon, things would kick into gear.
Caitlin seems calm, although her stomach still seems knotted up with nervousness. Planning energizes her, and there is no time for anything but action when the job goes down - it's the waiting that's the hardest part. She goes over the final details of the plan, then continues in a subdued voice as she passes splash grenades to Markus, explaining how the ones with red dots of paint are the paint grenades, and the other ones are the slip spray grenades.
The team drove in silence, each member preparing mentally for what they have to do. Cortex arrives on the site, and finds an out of the way place to hide the car temporarily while he works to fix the grid guide camera. The other team members have an opportunity to examine the grounds and look for decent fields of fire while Cortex does his business with the camera.
Cortex quietly chewed on his tongue in the alley. He was splicing the switch into the Grid Guide camera while it was live and one slip of the wire cutters and the camera could be cut out. The chances anyone was watching this particular feed in a quiet neighborhood in Bellevue, especially given the thousands of GridGuide cameras scattered throughout the Seattle Metroplex, were small. However, the slim chance that someone could catch any mistakes that Cortex made kept him absolutely focused on the wire cutters and the device he had in his gloved hand.
The engineering solution was simple, really. As long as Cortex cut onlly one of each of the differential color lines at a time, the camera would only show minor static, which allowed him to splice the switch in safely. Shortly, he had an operational camera deactivaton device.
Pocketing the gloves he stepped back out into the afternoon sun and headed to the car. He cracked his fingers nervously; five minutes until hell broke loose.
After the first bomb went off he couldn't control the situation, it was left the the hulking, missile-toting behemoth and the armored suit who were sweating in the back of the cheap hatchback. This heist stopped being a logic puzzle and started being a game of chance where he wasn't even playing a hand.
Arriving at the car he made sure that he was scanning the police frequency and any likely security bands in the are one last time, ensured that the jammer was fully operational, buckled into the drivers seat and set his hands on the wheel.
He exhaled slowly.
...five minutes.
The engineering solution was simple, really. As long as Cortex cut onlly one of each of the differential color lines at a time, the camera would only show minor static, which allowed him to splice the switch in safely. Shortly, he had an operational camera deactivaton device.
Pocketing the gloves he stepped back out into the afternoon sun and headed to the car. He cracked his fingers nervously; five minutes until hell broke loose.
After the first bomb went off he couldn't control the situation, it was left the the hulking, missile-toting behemoth and the armored suit who were sweating in the back of the cheap hatchback. This heist stopped being a logic puzzle and started being a game of chance where he wasn't even playing a hand.
Arriving at the car he made sure that he was scanning the police frequency and any likely security bands in the are one last time, ensured that the jammer was fully operational, buckled into the drivers seat and set his hands on the wheel.
He exhaled slowly.
...five minutes.
Caitlin has finished handing over the grenades, and is now donning her mask and gloves. The duffel stays unzipped - she will need to get to its contents quickly now. She goes over the last details of the plan with the others - once the hit goes down, she will stand near the rear of the van, just a bit off to the side, invisible, ready to stun any remaining guards after the intitial burst of fire. That is where the opposition will be most clustered, so that is where she will do the most good. She will still be in contact with the rest of the team by transceiver - her call sign will be One, George Two, Markus Three, and Cortex Four. As the car comes to a stop, she steps out, and turns invisible.
His imposing frame seated in the back seat, next to Markus, George watched the city go by silently, all his thoughts going out towards the woman he loved and cared for so much. In a few minutes, all hell would break loose. Maybe all there was left was a few minutes...
The combat vest, under his buttoned up long coat, felt terribly stiff, cold, and heavy. The ork was carrying enough ammo to take care of the very worst of problems... to take care of the very worst of situations. George hoped deeply all would go well. They had kept the plan rather simple to avoid any mishaps. Keep it simple and stupid. Boom once. Boom twice. Switch the data. Be gone before the cops arrive. Straight and to the point.
But then again, a million things could go wrong. Bystanders could get in the way. The truck might not stop. The explosive might not work. They might not be able to break the back doors. The van might have extra security measures or personnel. Spirits could be on call. Maybe they had a magician on their staff.
Too many things.
George tried to concentrate as hard as he could on something else. Overthinking before a hit was never a good thing. In his line of business, it was even most of the time quite deadly.
As Cortex rounded the corner, he stopped a second to let the big ork out. George would be standing close to a simple bus stop, on the sidewalk, with a block of plastic explosive in his pocket... remote in the other hand. When the armored truck came to a stop at the controlled light, he'd be the one opening the waltz. He had left the Ingram and LAW on the car's back seat... since just what he already was lugging around made him feel two tons heavier. At least, he was once thankful for his size. Under his heavy bulk and the longcoat he was wearing, hiding an automatic assault rifle wasn't too difficult.
Both arms crossed on his chest, the ork was leaning agaisn't the bus sign post, trying to look bored. The position was actually to help "squash" all the gear that was bulging out forward.
Slowly, he breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down.
Soon.
Very soon.
He turned to watch the road.
Two. Four; as soon as the party starts, you click the clock. Three minutes and we leave. All; sound in when you're good.
The combat vest, under his buttoned up long coat, felt terribly stiff, cold, and heavy. The ork was carrying enough ammo to take care of the very worst of problems... to take care of the very worst of situations. George hoped deeply all would go well. They had kept the plan rather simple to avoid any mishaps. Keep it simple and stupid. Boom once. Boom twice. Switch the data. Be gone before the cops arrive. Straight and to the point.
But then again, a million things could go wrong. Bystanders could get in the way. The truck might not stop. The explosive might not work. They might not be able to break the back doors. The van might have extra security measures or personnel. Spirits could be on call. Maybe they had a magician on their staff.
Too many things.
George tried to concentrate as hard as he could on something else. Overthinking before a hit was never a good thing. In his line of business, it was even most of the time quite deadly.
As Cortex rounded the corner, he stopped a second to let the big ork out. George would be standing close to a simple bus stop, on the sidewalk, with a block of plastic explosive in his pocket... remote in the other hand. When the armored truck came to a stop at the controlled light, he'd be the one opening the waltz. He had left the Ingram and LAW on the car's back seat... since just what he already was lugging around made him feel two tons heavier. At least, he was once thankful for his size. Under his heavy bulk and the longcoat he was wearing, hiding an automatic assault rifle wasn't too difficult.
Both arms crossed on his chest, the ork was leaning agaisn't the bus sign post, trying to look bored. The position was actually to help "squash" all the gear that was bulging out forward.
Slowly, he breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down.
Soon.
Very soon.
He turned to watch the road.
Two. Four; as soon as the party starts, you click the clock. Three minutes and we leave. All; sound in when you're good.
The last few mintues seem to take an eternity, but finally, the team can see the large lumbering armored car coming up on their position. Somehow it looked smaller in the photographs, or perhaps that was just a trick of the light, as the heavily armored vehicle approached them head on.
Cortex Only
For a moment it seems like the truck has no intention of stopping, but finally wheels begin to squeal, and the vehicle comes to a pause, inches from the bumper of Cortex's americar.
Cortex Only
[ Spoiler ]
For a moment it seems like the truck has no intention of stopping, but finally wheels begin to squeal, and the vehicle comes to a pause, inches from the bumper of Cortex's americar.
Immediately after the scanner crackled Cortex radioed.
Four. All: Target suspicious of road blockage, no police noise.
Cortex gently gripped the pistol squeezed between the seat and the door next to him and hoped that the frequency he'd picked was obscure enough to be off of any counter scanners; the fucking FCC kept making his life hard. He was proud of deciphering out the teams' callsign system though. It made sense. He'd have to congratulate whoever made it up.
Four. All: Target suspicious of road blockage, no police noise.
Cortex gently gripped the pistol squeezed between the seat and the door next to him and hoped that the frequency he'd picked was obscure enough to be off of any counter scanners; the fucking FCC kept making his life hard. He was proud of deciphering out the teams' callsign system though. It made sense. He'd have to congratulate whoever made it up.
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