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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Done.
I gave you that intro... though I didn't react much to Blake. I figure Wyatt would be more prone to react to Willow's reaction, than Blake's introduction, and since I didn't have that...well, I didn't react.
It was 1,000 credits.
Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:44:18.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: OK, a little to go with...
“Good Evening Gentlemen,” Wyatt looked over to the dandy as he spoke, a deadpan expression on his weathered face, “My name is Blake. James Blake. I was asked by an associate of mine to come here to inform you that the coast is now clear. The bird has flown. The owl has left the nest. The eggs are back in one basket. The Alliance ship just….” His voice trails off as he spots Willow. Once he sees her, it is like no one else is in the room except her and him. His eyes take in the doctor with a smoldering desire, and his lips curl into a smile that is both dashing and demure at the same time. He walks directly over to Willow, looking deep into her eyes and says, “I have never had a dream come true before, until now.”
Softly under his breath, the Kid muttered, “Mighty pretty words… almost as pretty as dem shoes.” Asher let out a little cough. The Kid takes another swig from the bottle, his eyes stay on the newcomer, waiting for a word from the Captain or Miss Willow.
Sung remained still, staring at the man in his pressed suit, his obvious upbringing. He immediately didn’t trust him. Of course, Wyatt didn’t trust most people, and he’d long ago learned to trust Willow’s assessment of a man’s mettle, so he just watched while Willow responded, looking for the sign of acceptance that she’d give should they trust the man’s word.
(OOC: assuming Willow accepts Blake.)
“All right, Mr. Blake,” Wyatt drawled. “I appreciate your message-bearing skills an’ all. Now, might ya be willin’ to impress me something more by tellin’ me where ol’ J.W. is?”
(OOC: Following Alacrity’s lead here we’ll do just as he suggested in the QA thread and hunt down J.W. Upon encountering him…)
Wyatt approached the man with a brief nod of acknowledgment. “J.W., I’m sorry to be interruptin’ your evenin’ activities, but there’s a small matter that needs addressin’ before the shadows get too long.
“Our man was on his way t’ the bank with yer pretty miss to receive payment fer our…delivery. We’d already arranged with Miss Brigit for the pick up, but I’m gonna need the payment ‘fore that can go down—a matter of one thousand credits. I’m sure you understand. We appreciate all that’s been done since, and ‘afore, but a man can’t run a business by lettin’ things like that slide.”
Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:42:58.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell
Subject: Some orders.
"Lt. Kernan, Sir, could you put that chair on this table so I can hang up this drip and get his ribs taped ."
Monty sets his rifle down on the top of one of the desks and silently proceeds to comply with the field medic’s request. Once the table is in position he locates anything he can to give the drip elevation, and something to secure it with while Johannsen proceeded to address Lee’s wounds.
"Get this down with the equivalent of a full glass of water.” Johannsen’s instructions were soft as she spoke with her patients. Kernan shifted about her to make sure he was providing what assistance he could while Blake worked her magic on the computer and Kane watched the door.
"How are your ribs and are you having trouble breathing?” Inga checked his ribcage even while she asked the question.
"Lt. Kernan, Sir. I could use your help with taping up Pearson's ribs and mine, Sir."
Monty silently moved to her side and proceeded to offer what assistance he could with the patient, and then with Inga. It was all business with the man, straight forward, dour business.
When Inga sat down and pulled out her log book to take note of all she’d done, Monty moved back to his weapon and settled into a chair. He was feeling fatigued despite their rest. A good portion of it, he knew, was the results of adrenaline leaving his system. Rubbing his eyes, the Lieutenant’s gaze fell on Blake as she worked and he wondered if she’d be able to live up to the expectation. They were all relying on her to get through those damnable computer defenses and show them just what they were dealing with. If she failed…Monty took a deep breath. What would he do then? How would he get these people out alive, and find those that were MIA? He’d be the one to brave the cold and get that satellite link set up if it came down to it. It would have to be him, or Kane. The others were too specialized in their fields, too important to the mission. No, he’d get the message out if it killed him.
"SSGT Kane," Inga’s voice broke the Lieutenant’s contemplative silence. "I just thought that the area of the observatory keeps switching about and different times and places keep popping up there. Perhaps you could keep trying to call the others and if they return, tell them to get out of that area."
Without sitting up or even turning his head Pearson spoke, painfully, "Corp'ral? I don't think ... they're there anymore ... If they were in ... the cave, that thing ... would'a got them too ... an' they weren't there ... that I saw, but ... they might be where ... the 'servat'ry went ..." Here, Pearson was wracked with coughing. The coughing subsided relatively quickly, leaving the private weak and breathing raggedly, grimacing in pain but silent except for an occasional soft grunt.
Corporal Johannsen looked over worriedly when Cpl. Pearson began coughing. While Kernan watched she quickly checked on Lee and then moved over to Pearson to help him out.
"How are you doing Corporal Pearson?" Inga asked while taking up his wrist to check his pulse. "I want to get you into a reclining position and not on your back but I don't want you to do anything but lie there.
"Lt. Kernan, Sir I need you assistance. I need something to prop Col. Pearson up on so he is not on his back like this and I need a hand getting him up into a reclining position."
“Sit back and take some time to rest, Corporal,” Monty ordered Johannsen. “I’ve got it.”
That said, Kernan snatched up Pearson’s pack and moved to position it underneath the grenadier in such a way as to receive Inga’s nod of approval. “Hold tight, Ranger,” Monty said in a low tone to Pearson as he gave the man’s should a soft pat. “We’re all getting’ the hell outta here as soon as we can.”
Turning from the injured man, Lt. Kernan made his way slowly back to where he was sitting and hoisted his weapon. “Kane, take a seat. No use in wearing yourself out further just watching a door. And for whatever it’s worth, keep trying Hatherford and Hart on the radio…just in case.” Moving about the room, Monty contemplated what Inga had said a little further. Perhaps what had happened in the Observatory was going to happen all over the facility and perhaps it was rotating realities, just like she’d suggested. Unfortunately, there was no way to be absolutely positive until Blake broke that code, and even then it was just as likely that whatever was happening wasn’t documented. Hell, he was sure that the results weren’t what they’d planned.
All they were supposed to do was get in, determine the condition of the facility’s staff, get all of the information on the operation, and get out. Now they were trapped in some extradimensional shell where reality took a side seat to fiction. Shaking his head, Monty returned his attention to searching through the contents of the room. Perhaps he’d find something to help Blake out, to help them all out. Perhaps not.
Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:27:17.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: A future? What future?
I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:50am
“You order online, no?” Kremlin said, still smiling. “Not soon enough? There are plenty-enough stores through city. You find with no problem. Now, tell me, Mr. Spiff, how is it that I do not know of you? Who’s shadow are you emerging from? We could use business associate with your gift of…how you say? Gab?”
"I will tell you, but if it's not to much trouble, could we stop by one such place on the way back to The Docks. I'd hate to be walking around Night City carrying this thing."
Kremlin chuckled and motioned towards the blackened windows where the freeway lights were barely penetrating the tint in a feeble attempt to illuminate the storm swept darkness. “It is not morning even, Mr. Spiff. There will be no store open at this hour. But I will do you another favor, yes? I will provide duffle bag from ship. Then you can break rifle down and pack it from sight.” If the man were perturb that Spiff seemed to be avoiding the offer for employment, he wasn’t letting on.
Spiff picked up his drink to take another sip. Before he pressed the glass to his lips, he paused and raised it up so he could see the clear liquid and the swirls of translucency that proved it to be alcohol, rather than water.
"Where do you get your vodka Mr. Kremlin?"
“I have imported from Motherland, Mr. Spiff. It is well worth the endeavor, no?”
"And why wouldn't you buy it from somewhere else?"
“Ha!” Kremlin practically coughed as he laughed. “There is no other place to buy real vodka!”
"And how do you know it is good vodka?"
Kremlin’s eyes glinted and a smile played at his puffy lips. “You tell me, Mr. Spiff.”
"You see, good vodka is hard to come by. It must be properly fermented, properly flavored, and most definitely properly filtered. But looking at good vodka, you can see a very big difference between it and bad vodka. Cheap vodka tastes thick, and the swirls of alcohol mixing in it are very prevalent. Expensive vodka is smooth. You can look at it, as I do with this glass, and see through it clearly. You have to focus on its appearance to find the swirls and even then many miss it."
Spiff took a sip of his drink and smiled, licking his lips.
"Good alcohol is subtle, Kremlin. So is a good speaker. In fact, I'm so very subtle, that you may have even heard of me before, and yet this day you are looking me in the face as though a stranger. I don't showboat my abilities unless it pays off to do so." He set his glass down and smiled. "Now, I already told you: if you want use of my gift, it doesn't come cheap. I work for myself and myself alone, but I like you guys. Helping gentlemen like you all for a bit of cash is not out of the question. I just wouldn't count on me being around forever. If that's reasonable to you, then we can work something out. If it's not, then I appreciate your business transaction and thank you for your time."
“How does that American song go?” Kremlin tilted his glass towards Spiff in a toast. “The desperado, he is sitting on fences for so long…
“Every man finds his start somewhere, Mr. Spiff. Even those who sit on fences as it were must choose a side eventually. Lone wolves are a danger to organizations; they are chaos in an organized society. Who would trust a lone wolf when it is better to trust a comrade? We,” Kremlin spread his hands wide to encompass the whole of the vehicle in his reference. “Are not a small people. We are the Russia, and we are offering you a home, Mr. Spiff, not a job.”
I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:55am
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:50pm
“This is not good,” MDK whispered to Peacekeeper. “This place is heavily guarded.”
The bounty hunter had come to that conclusion as well. Her heart had sank when she’d witnessed the veritable fortress they surveyed. How would they be able to break that? Especially without bringing the whole of the facility down around them.
“I hope that boyfriend of yours has some connections,” MDK drawled with a little humor in his voice that prickled Jaimy’s skin, “we are going to need some serious hardware in order to penetrate their security field and take on this kind of muscle.”
“Better give him a call and report our findings.” He told her as he kept an eye out for any outer perimeter patrols.
With a slight shake of her head, Peacekeeper dropped behind the girth of a tree trunk to shield the light of her phone from those below. Croaker didn’t have a cell, but Firewind did, and they’d shared numbers to facilitate communication, so it was his number that she dialed. Placing the receiver to her ear she waited as it rang. Eventually it picked up and a strange voice answered.
”Hello?”
Peacekeeper paused, her voice caught in her throat for a moment. Had she entered the wrong number when she’d taken note of Firewind’s contact information? No, she had called him to verify.
“Who is this?” she asked in a low, guarded tone.
”Who is this?” came the returned query.
Peacekeeper abruptly hung up.
“I think there’s a problem,” she whispered to MDK as she sidled up next to him again, the phone still held in her hand. “I don’t think that was Firewind that answered the phone, and it sure as hell wasn’t Croaker, or Bull’s Eye.”
“I got a bad feeling about this,” MDK said, “I get the impression someone knew we were coming.”
He turns to her and sitting on the ground in the brush he lifts up his battle mask and pulls down the armored bandana and his silvery metallic orbs lock on her.
“Roving patrols apparently looking for someone,” he says in a whisper, “a lot of heavy security here, and we have to assume for now that the others have been killed, or at best captured. Either way, that leaves us here alone.”
He raised an eyebrow as he watched the expressions of worry upon her face for Croaker and the others, “So, do we go back and verify the condition of your boyfriend and the others? Or do we make a new plan?” He sat there waiting for her reaction and suggestions.
Jaimy glanced away from those unnerving eyes and studied the compound. Her heart was being twisted and her stomach was filled with butterflies. Was Croaker dead? She agreed with MDK in that the facility had received a warning of some sort. They had, after all, been looking for a threat when the patrol had been ambushed. What if another patrol had found Croaker, Firewind, and Bull’s Eye? Would they have been as capable as MDK had been at dispatching the enemy? She knew Croaker was tough, and he was a decent shot, but she didn’t know much about Firewind and Bull’s Eye. That voice meant that at least Firewind was no longer with his phone, and that meant…Peacekeeper jerked as her phone buzzed silently in hand.
Peering up at MDK again, she cautioned him to wait as she slid back around the tree and opened the display. A simple message read in green:
I’ve a netrunner on board. What’s your 20?
It was Jack’s contact information. Jaimy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d almost thought he’d left them to boil. Her fingers worked the small digital keyboard as quickly as they could being cold and wet for as long as they’d been.
On target. she typed. I think we’re alone.
She waited.
What’s the gun count? came the reply within seconds.
2
Jaimy glanced over to MDK and whispered, “It’s Springed-Heel Jack. He’s a netrunner ready to assist, but…” Her phone vibrated again.
Are you capable?
“He’s asking if we’re able to proceed,” Peacekeeper raised her thin eyebrows. “A netrunner might be able to get us past the e-sec. If Croaker and the others aren’t dead, they might be in there—“ She checked herself. “—And we still need what’s in there to ensure our safety, and an end to this bull sh*t. What do you say?”
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:35pm
“Your friend’s right, you need to get some sleep. Both of you look like s*** and that door isn’t going anywhere in a hurry.” The blonde man drawled sliding back to the floor, using the wall to support the full weight of his body as he did so. He didn’t appear concerned or intimidated at the gruff demands of the new arrival.
“Our side, or not?” Bull’s Eye growled again.
“Oh,” the man on the floor said with a dispassionate tone, apparently content to ignore the nomad’s veiled threat. “And don’t think about jumping the guards next time they come back in.” He patted the bruising mark just below his hairline “Been there, done that. When they take you out for interrogation make sure you take note of everyone you see and every door you pass. This place is a maze and if you’re at all planning on getting out you don’t want to be wasting time deciding which way to go.”
He stared past Bull's Eye, a contemplating expression on his face, “Get some sleep and I’ll tell you what I know when you’re done”. With that he closed his eyes and covered his eyelids with his hand, offering them as much shade as he could from the fluorescent glow of the ceiling paneling. Finally he shifted slightly away from the two men and the door.
“And the name’s Freeway.”
Keahi couldn’t help but smile a bit at the pissing match. He couldn’t sleep, and he knew it. The situation, the eventual interrogation that Freeway had hinted at, his hatred for the megacorps—it had his blood boiling and the temperature of it would never let him relax even for a moment.
“Freeway,” Firewind moved to the corner near the door and dropped into it. “How long have you been here? Do you know what they do here? And, if you don’t mind me asking, why are you locked away?”
“He could be a damn plant,” Bull’s Eye growled, preferring to remain standing. “Put here by the corporation to gain our trust and get the information they want out of us without having to damage the meat—meat’s worth something, especially to this corp.
“Are you a plant, Freeway? Huh?”
“Give it a rest, Bull’s Eye!” Keahi stared at the nomad with a incredulous look on his tattooed face. “Even if he were a plant, he wouldn’t frackin’ tell you!
“Look, Freeway, I’m sorry for Bull’s Eye’s bull sh*t. He’s a little strung up, and seein’ how his tribe-brother just got filled full of lead by a minigun, well, he’s got a bone to pick.”
“Bone to pick…” Bull’s Eye glared at the medtech. He knew what Firewind was saying was true. He was taking his anger at the situation out on their cellmate, but he didn’t want to admit it right then. “Shut up, Firewind. You don’t know sh*t!”
“God,” Keahi dropped his head back against the wall where it rested in the corner. “What I wouldn’t give for an airhypo and a sedative. Croaker will live, Bull’s Eye. I saw to that before they threw us in chains. Now, if you want to see him again, I suggest we do what we can to remain civil and productive.”
“Oh, now he’s a tactician and a leader, huh?” Bull’s Eye made his way to the door and started investigating it around the seams. “I’ll get us out of here—oh, and, Freeway, you may have tried to jump them by yourself and got your ass kicked, but now there’s three of us, so I’m not throwing nothin’ out the window just yet.”
Biotechnica Facility Holding Cell – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:40pm
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:15am
The door to Croaker’s room opened admitting two men in suits. They were clean cut, rigid in the jaw, and straight-backed. Each took a position on either side of the door, hands clasped before them as another suit walked in on their heels.
“You must be Croaker,” the man said. He was tall, regal-looking, with brown hair and broad shoulders. His suit looked like it cost a lot of money, and though his skin was deeply tanned and wrinkled, his blue eyes sparkled like gemstones caught in the sands of time. His thin lips twisted in a smile as he sat on Croaker’s bedside and shifted to stare at the nomad’s face. “What a situation we find ourselves in, no? You and your crew were hired to return something to me that I’d lost, and yet here I sit. I have you and two of your companions, but that which I sent you after in the first place eludes me. Why is that, Croaker, or should I say, Mr. Tallon?”
Biotechnica Facility Monitoring Room – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 12:17am
Posted on 2008-09-06 at 20:03:31.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Freeway
Freeway promised he'd post this weekend and then I'll move us on.
Posted on 2008-09-01 at 21:19:02.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Moving out.
‘Captain-san,” Willow said, “Let’s not look for more trouble than what’s staring us in the face. The Tong have no reason to interfere with us, I’m sure tomorrow’s visit is a courtesy, nothing more. Believe it or not, there are some people who like to spend time around me,” she dimpled momentarily before continuing in a serious tone.
‘What worries me is that we’ll have miners showing up to unload contraband that’s not been paid for, and the lone person there is a recluse with a pink shotgun, and no qualms about using it. We need to get this straightened out with JW. If that means snooping before dark, that’s what we do.”
Willow started to turn away, thinking to get back into her “public” appearance of kimono and formal hair, but turned back with a mischievous smile. “Now, Captain-san, by snooping, you do mean “be very visible and girly and draw every eye in the place so no-one notices you and Asher looking around and having quite conversations”, don’t you?”
“Go gussy yerself up, Willow,” Wyatt gave her the affirmation she needed with a nod of his head, and the statement. As she walked away, he turned back to the window, but addressed Asher. “There’s the possibility that we’re going t’ need some PR, Kid. I think Sam and Wolf’ll do just fine here with the Doc while we sort out our business. So, you might wanna pack all o’ that gear and get ready to go. We leave as soon as Willow’s ready.”
While waiting for the others to resolve their personal items and appearance, Sung found the doctor, still working through Wolf’s wounds. Peering down at the large mechanic who’d just joined their crew, he could only shake his head and offer an apology.
“Wish I could say it ain’t always like this, Wolf,” Wyatt’s voice was low. “But, I ain’t the lyin’ type. Some days go smoother n’ others…Look, I appreciate you being all Gao Guhn an’ hope this don’t affect your decision to be our mechanic none. That looks a might pain-filled, but I’m sure the Doc’ll hook you up right shiny, so I’d appreciate it if you could see to the mule. We’re likely gonna need it, and money’s tight so I can’t afford t’ just put it out to pasture. We’ll swing back ‘round before too long t’ pick you an’ Sam up, and hopefully dust this mudball with another contract in hand.”
(OOC: Wolf’s answer.)
“Now, Doc,” Wyatt turned his attention to the old man. “I also gotta offer my appreciation for your care of my crew. Like I said, I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to credits, but I never leave a debt unpaid, so name yer price an’ I’ll see to it you get paid.”
(OOC: Whatever the answer…)
“I got two more things t’ ask, Doc. Where do you think I can find J.W., and would you mind if Sam and Wolf stick around until we get back?”
(OOC: Assuming a couple of suggestions as to where J.W. might be, as well as admittance that the two can stay.)
“That’s right good of ya, Doc.”
Wyatt killed time then, waiting on Willow to show in her shiny kimono an’ all, by making his way into the room where Sam lay attached to the machines. Sung stood in the door for a moment eyeballing the pilot’s many bandages, the discarded ballistic mesh, and absorbing the soft hum of the machines. They’d arrived just in time, and the toll that had taken on their good luck was immense, Wyatt was sure of it.
“Eight lives left, Puhn yo,” Wyatt said quietly. “Sure wish you were goin’ along on this little ride. I’m sure that Asher and Willow’ll help, but there’s more Joo How Rin when the whole of us are on our feet.”
Standing in the silence a little longer, Wyatt shifted in order to leave, pausing and peering back at the mesh. “We’ll get ya another shirt, an’ then we’ll end this Ma Fuhn an’ be back in the Black.”
Returning to the den, Wyatt waited on Willow in silence contemplating the pending events of the evening. He wished the Doc had some elephants he could pat, a rabbit’s foot, anything that could help things go down with a little more luck, but by the time Willow emerged looking her dazzling self, he had settled on relying on the Luck of Three once more. With a nod to the Doc, he offered Willow his arm and led the way to the streets. He informed Willow and Asher of the doctor’s suggested whereabouts concerning J.W., and headed for what he perceived to be the closest of them. He’d left his destroyed hat back at the Doc’s and felt naked without the brim shadowing his eyes, but it would have to do for now. He was ever vigilant, looking for any who might be following them, any who might be inching their way looking for trouble, and he kept his Colt within easy reach.
The plan was simple: find J.W. and get paid before those dockhands showed up at Rocinante looking to unload. At least, Wyatt hoed it was simple.
Posted on 2008-09-01 at 21:14:51.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Um...you might have.
If you did, I don't have the questions above for Salibat any longer. I've gone through the Recruitment thread, this thread, and my P.M.s and don't see it.
Posted on 2008-08-29 at 03:15:47.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Nice work!
That's a sweet model, Eol. I've never used that program. I use Hash's Animation Master for modeling (and since I haven't done any video game work in years, I am real rusty).
As far as sneakin' about and such: Wyatt will likely see if he can't use the Doc's system to line up some work in his spare time. He'll not wait until dark to check on JW and his misses. I'm not about to part with the ice until payment is in hand--and Ma has the ship locked up tight so no one is about to get the ice without permission.
Given the situation, Wyatt might try to track down JW to get some questions answered if he feels he can leave Sam and take Willow and Asher with him. But that depends on whether JW decides to show up before dark.
Either way, he'll likely check on Sam at one point or another.
Posted on 2008-08-29 at 03:14:23.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Thanks!
Thank you, Blammm. Looks like you're next.
I look forward to receiving it Grugg.
Posted on 2008-08-26 at 14:28:43.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I wasn't implying...
Nor was I implying that anyone was adding stress. I just know that it is difficult to maintain a game when life is pressuring you, and so I was offering the option is all.
Posted on 2008-08-26 at 14:26:32.
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Topic: The Embodiment Q&A
Subject: Um...characters?
So, no one else is providing answers to the questions. Are we down to the players who've provided the information?
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:52:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Heh! Jail.
That's just fun.
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:49:51.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Glad you recovered it...
I enjoyed the post immensely, so bravo!
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:47:55.
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Topic: A Cold Day in Hell Q&A
Subject: Welcome to the party...
Fresh meat...new outlook...
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:47:04.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Post!
Feel free to post whenever. Croaker will only be out for a couple of hours tops.
Anyone else?
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:44:57.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Poor Eol!
I don't know...maybe it would be best to end the game. That way Eol doesn't need to stress about it.
Posted on 2008-08-25 at 15:43:20.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: A suggestion.
“Captain. Your man is doing well. Good thing he was wearing a ballistic vest though, because it saved his life more than once. He's very banged up and bruised right now, but he will up and around in no time. He’ll need to stay here overnight so the bones can be properly mended and he can get some rest. Morgan will stay as well as he is on the mend too. Now If Miss Willow has no objections, I will tend to Wolf’s shoulder wound and call this a successful day.” The doctor entered the room like a shade as far as Wyatt was concerned, breaking him from his thoughtful reverie while he watched the street for any sign of trouble.
Wyatt had been considering the implications behind the Ludlows. The Verse weren’t no small thing, and to run into the brothers under one operation, bothered the captain to no end. It was like a burr under his saddle, an itch when tied, or that irritating noise that a body can never identify in the engines of your ship. What was it that tied the two together, and more importantly, how did it effect his crew?
“Thanks, Doc,” Sung turned from the window and his reasoning to nod his thanks in tandem with his statement. He still slowly turned his ruined hat in his hands, reminding him that he’d need to either mend it, or replace it, along with the ballistic shirt Sam’d survived. As the thin, aging man turned to help Wolf, Wyatt raised his eyebrows Willow’s way, inviting her to join him by the window.
“None of this is proper, Willow,” he whispered while eyeing the doctor’s handywork. “It just don’t sit right with me, and that sticks in my craw. It was JW that allowed us to hide in his shadow burnin’ atmo, and it’s his pretty plaything that holds our meal-ticket once we land. Then we got the two Ludlows: one on the comet an’ the other here in town. We’re too bloody close to the Cheong Bao Ho Tze Alliance fer my taste, we’ve the Ung Jeong Jia Ching Jien Soh Tong workin’ under the sway of a shepard wantin’ to meet with you—an’ I gotta be honest, Willow. I’m not too fond of that particular idea none either. I already allowed Sam t’ go off on his own an’ git all full of holes…
“To boot, I don’t have nothing lined up for the turn around—haven’t had the Ta Ma Duh time with all the bullets flyin’. We need some answers. How do you feel ‘bout doin’ a little snoopin’ while Sam an’ Wolf recover? You, me, an’ The Kid?”
Posted on 2008-08-22 at 00:27:17.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Won't happen for a bit...
I'm waiting for Eol to get caught up before moving too far forward, so you won't see another post from me until Eol and Olan post.
Posted on 2008-08-22 at 00:11:28.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Situation Critical for some...
OK, heads up:
Raven - you have two of those corporate assassins about thirty meters ahead just rounding the corner to the first street you'd encountered them on. You're about ten meters from the city car which puts you about that same distance from the corporate beaver who looks like he's trying to put a cap in your butt. DigitalScribe is about two meters behind you and to the right a bit, but you have no idea if he's seen the corporate assassins, or the beaver's threat.
YeOlde - MDK needs to make the decision which side of the facility they are going to come in on. There will be a twelve foot electrified chainlink fence about the facility pretty much the same distance (in contour with the terrain) away from the facility as the two buildings that the road passes between. The top of this fence will be decorated with spiral razorwire, and every hundred feet or so there are security cameras. Anyway you approach it, the two of you are about fifteen minutes from the fenceline, and if you wait long enough in one position along the fence you'll see a patrol of two guards walk about the parameter (about ten meters from the fence) with a dog that has obviously been cyber-enhanced) checking for abnormalities.
Tann - Bad luck man! Hard to stand up against a minigun, but I'd say you did fairly well all things considered. When Croaker awakes he'll be in a triage center stripped of everything (a medical gown on), strapped to a bed. The room he'll be in will have two other beds in it with two other patients. One will be a young man in his twenties while the other is a woman in her twenties. Both have their heads shaved and are hooked up to monitoring equipment that has diodes placed all over their heads, and down under their gowns. They aren't strapped in like you are. You'll have pain from your wounds, and perhaps feel a little weird due to the Speedheal, but you're alive. A nurse will come check on the instrument's readings every hour. She'll be an average-looking, middle-aged Hispanic woman, and she won't acknowledge Croaker no matter what he does.
Freeway - Welcome to active play.
Sui - You're so far ahead of everyone I'm killing time with conversation. It could lead to something...could be good, could be bad. 
I'll be away at Lake Powell from tomorrow until Sunday late, so have fun posting.
Posted on 2008-08-21 at 23:47:42.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: OUCH, OUCH, OUCH!!!
Outside the Blue Kodiak Pawn – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:45am
"Might want to be careful there Kremlin." Spiff took a sip from the glass and set it back down, winking. "If I'm in your pocket, I'm quite close to your cash, if you get my drift."
The large Russian burst into laughter that nearly shattered the windows of the limo with its resonance. He continued to laugh until he started choking, sputtering a laugh through his thick lips as his face turned a deep shade of purple, but he waved off any help that was offered and after a couple of minutes he’d managed to regain his composure, and that’s when Spiff continued his play.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can get a bag for this, do you?” the fixer said while motioning at the sleek, black weapon on the seat across from him.
“You order online, no?” Kremlin said, still smiling. “Not soon enough? There are plenty-enough stores through city. You find with no problem. Now, tell me, Mr. Spiff, how is it that I do not know of you? Who’s shadow are you emerging from? We could use business associate with your gift of…how you say? Gab?”
I16 Southbound – North Oak – Night City – March, Friday 14th, 2020, 4:50am
Alley – South Night City – Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 4:30pm
"Yup", Guardian answered Scribe with his usual panache. "They'll be expecting it now, but they weren't expecting it 5 seconds ago. It ain't much, but that's what we got. So let's move."
Frankie shook his head, but he knew he had a better chance for survival by following Guardian’s advice, than by running off on his own. That’s what he was paying the man for, after all. So, he followed closely as the bodyguard swiftly approached the frail old manager with enough intimidation oozing from him to cause a battalion of Arasaka soldiers to pee themselves.
"Open it.", Guardian said with a deep voice that didn't exactly promise the man a healthy retirement if he didn't comply in a heartbeat, while nodding towards the back door. And just like that the back door was unlocked and they were exiting the building.
There was a back alley running down the block of buildings either way. There wasn't much to be used as cover in case of a fire fight and in general it wasn't really wise to be caught in one in such a place anyway. There were doors across the alley, but they'd be locked too and hence of no use to the media and himself. The fire escapes were too high for them to reach, though in all honesty, Guardian didn't even consider them. Going up only meant getting caught in some other tight spot. And that was what he wanted to avoid. He needed to get the both the hell out of there. There was no way they would be able to cut down all of the assassins and stay in one piece themselves. The whole while that Guardian went about his assessment, DigitalScribe glanced back and forth between the rain-drenched alley outside the relative safety of the store and the store’s metal shield, his handgun still at ready.
As Guardian launched himself over a wet and crushed cardboard box and headed right, Scribe was right on his heels. The media considered trying to ready his camera again, but changed his mind as soon as they began hauling ass down the alley.
Reaching the corner, Guardian raised his empty hand and DigitalScribe quickly slid to a halt some three paces behind the bodyguard. Hiding the Armalite behind his back, the big black man took a quick peek to the right, back towards the street they’d just vacated. He then scanned the whole scene looking for a quicker means to get them out.
“When I say move, you follow me, understood?” Guardian’s deep voice rumbled in the wake of a heavy peel of thunder.
“Just try and go without me.” Frankie was looking down the alley and wondering when he’d see that smashed up, black sedan rounding the corner all intent on running them down.
“Move!”
The two men rounded the corner at a run, Guardian in the lead, DigitalScribe doing his best to not stumble over his protector’s feet. After a second, Scribe realized what Guardian’s target was: the man was looking for wheels, something to get them the hell off the street and out of this vicinity quickly, and before them there was a rich, cherry red city car with the canopy open. The owner of the vehicle was about three paces away, newspaper over his head, talking with a newsstand vendor.
It couldn’t be easy though. Guardian’s sheer size caught the man’s attention much the same way that a charging rhino would have—not that Scribe had seen a charging rhino before in anything other than a nature documentary from the last century. It was nearly comical the way that the young beaver’s eyes widened. Frankie was certain that the immediate thought entering his head was some rival had called out a hit. That was the good thing about the city car: it indicated that the man wasn’t nearly high enough on the corporate ladder to afford the status symbol a bodyguard set. The bad thing (Scribe realized) about that was more than likely it meant the beaver would have some piece of hardware to protect himself.
Sure enough, his hand darted underneath the tailored trench coat, and into the suit coat. For a brief moment, Scribe wondered at the irony of escaping corporate hitmen to be gunned down by a lowly beaver, likely not even affiliated with Biotechnica.
As he rushed forward, intent on sliding into the two-seat vehicle and taking off at the max speed of 35mph, Guardian saw the cherry’s owner reach for a weapon, fear and shock on his face. The man was moving slow, even for a corporate, and the bodyguard knew he’d have no trouble beating him to the punch even without his Sandevastin boost, but the beaver wasn’t his biggest concern. Rounding the corner on foot were two more of those black-garbed corporate assassins, and they’d obviously spotted their quarry.
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 10:21pm
Peacekeeper had to force herself to break the stare she was holding on the efficient killing machine as he walked calmly over to the soldier that was down and not moving, scooped up the leaf-stricken H&K MPK-11 in his left hand, made sure a round was chambered and then put a three round burst in the dead man’s head, further causing the faceshield to bow and warp. As the assassin continued to end the suffering of those thrashing about, lit up by his cruel weaponry, the bounty hunter took a deep breath and began to scan their surroundings. She hadn’t missed the report, and knew that there were likely more men in these woods. For a moment, she became concerned about Croaker, and considered pulling her cell phone to call him and warn him of the patrols, but figured that she wasn’t likely to have reception out here anyway, so after securing their parameter, she turned back to MDK just as he put hot lead into the last of them.
“The corporal of this patrol might have a subdural comm implant. I thought I heard it when he reported in. Check them quickly, take what guns you want. We have to move. He called them in as Bravo Team Two, so there are more out there and probably headed this way.”
Jaimy was trying to regain her composure. She was Peacekeeper, the bounty hunter. Why the hell did this man scare the breath out of her? She’d faced down so many of Night City’s criminals, and never once flinched; not since that incident anyway, why was he affecting her so?
Giving herself a little shake, she moved to the charred remains of one of the soldiers and snatched maneuvered the strap of his weapon from his body, catching whiffs of charred flesh, chemicals, and burnt blood on the wind every now and again. If she’d have been green, she’d have hurled. Unfortunately, she’d seen the victims of those she’d hunted down in similar states before. Yeah, but they’d been dead for some time, she thought as the weapon finally came free of where it had hooked on the man’s helmet. Slinging it over her shoulder with one hand she quickly patted his combat webbing down for additional magazines, finding them and tucking them into her trench coat’s pockets. She repeated the performance on another of the soldiers, before moving back to MDK’s side.
MDK snatched up another H&K before heading off into the woods towards their destination. Once they were about 100 yards from the seen of the ambush, he crouched and motioned her closer.
“You alright?” he asked her, “were you hit?”
“I’m fine,” she wondered at his sudden concern. “You’re the one I should be asking. They fired enough lead your way to drop a bull elephant.”
She couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the man shrugged off her concern and, apparently satisfied with her condition, peered about the woods once more before darting off.
They continued on leap-frogging it, by-passing more security cameras, and encountering at least two more lines of those strange pods, leading Peacekeeper to believe that they definitely had something to do with security. The whole of the way she worried over the fact that such heavily armed patrols were out in weather like this, so far away from the facility they were supposed to be guarding, obviously looking for someone. It set her on edge, and she had to force herself to stop thinking about Croaker back there on that open road, vulnerable.
Eventually, they came across the road once more, and Jaimy remembered that they’d either have to move at more of a northeasterly direction to come up on the southeast side of the facility, or cross the road and continue moving almost due north, putting them on the mountainside east of the facility. Motioning MDK close, she whispered their options.
“If I remember the map,” she said leaning in so that her beautiful, wet face was nearly four inches from his battlemask, and just to the left so that her voice would carry to his exposed ear. “The mountainside on the west side of the facility has some good tree cover, putting us uphill from the place and about four to five hundred meters away. The facility sits atop a hill, right? The east face of that hill is pretty bare, and there are a couple of additional hills surrounding it that way.
“We’d have to cross over the road to go up the west mountainside…” Jaimy paused to peer out at the slim view of the road they had from their cover. She hadn’t seen any security cameras yet, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t there.
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:35pm
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 10:45pm
“Quick! Out that side!” Croaker pointed towards the driver’s side of the vehicle. “If it’s a patrol, shoot to kill.”
Bull’s Eye didn’t wait to find out what to do if it wasn’t a patrol. He was already using the stock of the shotgun to break out the picture window of the RV immediately allowing wind and rain to whip in through the disturbed drapes. Meanwhile, Firewind had slipped past Croaker and was already sliding out through the driver’s door, his heavy bag in tow.
It was at that moment that a loudspeaker, or bullhorn, blared: “You in the camper, you are close to a restricted area. Present yourselves with your hands where we can see them.”
Bull’s Eye grinned broadly at Croaker and dropped out the window, the bigger nomad hot on his heels. Rain struck their faces with a vengeance, almost immediately drenching them, the cold biting to the bone.
The instant Firewind had stepped into the night, his heart racing, the islander found himself a few feet from a slope. He’d taken the opportunity to sprint the distance separating him from that relative cover as the headlights of the other vehicle had yet to clear the back of the RV. Still shadowed by the night, the medtech dropped to his left hip and rolled to his belly, sliding down the hill in the mud and muck, his Baretta at ready as he watched the vehicle’s huge tires roll to a stop about twenty meters from the rear of the RV.
Bull’s Eye had to move quick to keep Croaker from landing on his back. Taking the shotgun by the barrel, he crouched-ran to that sloping incline, unknowingly mimicking the medtech’s maneuver, and coming up on his knees, the shotgun raised to his shoulder to provide cover for his tribesman. He wasn’t surprised that this was a patrol; there wasn’t much else that would be coming down the mountain in his estimation. He was, however, more than a little disconcerted as the corporate vehicle came into view. He recognized it almost immediately as an Arasaka-built Kuma Land Rover complete with a pintle-mounted minigun.
As his boots struck the muddy earth, Croaker turned his head to take a good look at the approaching vehicle. He’d always been working guard rotation, controlling the protection of his tribe, or being involved in minor council activity, and hadn’t had much to do with vehicle maintenance, acquisition, or control, but he was a nomad, and the vehicle that had pulled up on their position was easily recognizable as one of the most common military vehicles of the age. The Kuma Land Rover had pretty much become the most popular in running with JEEP some years ago. Arasaka manufactured it, but everyone wanted a piece of it (except Militech, who preferred the HUMMER). Aside from an awareness of what the vehicle was, Croaker knew very little about it—he didn’t like the sight of the minigun attached to the turret though, and with that in mind, the large nomad swept away from the unarmored side of the RV, the submachine gun switched to a three-round burst to conserve the limited ammunition they carried.
From his vantage, Bull’s Eye knew they’d been spotted. The soldier on the pintle gun was already turning that turreted weapon their way. The nomad knew that should Croaker get caught up in that mess he’d be hard pressed to come out of it. Pulling the trigger, Bull’s Eye bellowed his warning to his tribesman as he fired off the Constitution’s four-round burst, the weapon bucking in his hold. The pintle gunner jerked as one of the shells struck his armored chest. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to deter him.
Maybe if they’d played at some sort of subterfuge they might’ve convinced the patrol they’d been caught by the storm while camping and were on their way back when they decided to stop for something to eat, or some such nonsense. This opportunity had been lost when they’d ducked from their vehicle and ran for cover. Private Huff had been working for Biotechnica for approximately three years, and he’d seen a lot of rabbits in his time. People grew curious about the facility, but when the heavily armored and armed rover approached, they scattered. He’d been responsible for the deaths of at least twenty-three people using this minigun of his. 7.62 millimeter rounds weren’t exactly friendly to the human body, and Huff wasn’t exactly friendly to humans. He’d boosted up his reflexes years ago, enhanced his vision, hearing, and biometrics. He’d sold his soul to Biotechnica, and now, here was some more meat for the barbeque.
Leveling the minigun at the running man wearing all black, trench coat streaming out behind him, Pvt. Huff knew that this wasn’t just a curious chrome. This was likely the threat they’d been warned of! Adrenaline began to course through his body with that realization. Bring down the threat and maybe there was a promotion involved. At the very least there’d be a bonus.
Bullets filled the air around Croaker as he ran buzzing past his head like angry insects. Then the impacts registered with the brilliant rapidity of chaos. His left leg twisted out from underneath him in midstride, rotating his body about as the rounds struck his armored plating. Another struck his right leg, this one eating through the armor to bury itself into his thigh with a flash of pain while keeping him from using the leg to catch himself. More rounds struck his arms and chest driving him to the ground with such force that combined, the large nomad found the air driven from his lungs, mud flung up into his face, and the back of his head striking the wet earth. The volley of hot lead had wiped his legs completely out from underneath him, flung him to the ground in disgust, and left him within feet of the hillside he’d been trying to achieve.
Croaker wasn’t out of despite the pain he was in. Using his stomach muscles to pull his torso upright, he leveled the submachine gun at the vehicle and fired off a three-round burst. His vision was blurred by the rain and pain so he wasn’t sure of the effect. Anguishing against the wound in his right thigh, the large nomad rolled—as though in slow motion—to his left knee and struggled to get his foot back underneath him.
Pvt. Marsette had just transferred to this facility from Seattle’s pharmaceutical plant. He’d been there two days when the order had come in to keep an eye out for a possible threat consisting of edgerunners intent on stealing from Biotechnica. Marsette had always despised edgerunners—people who felt that they were above the law. And here he was, driving the Kuma that had found the very threat they’d been warned against. Now it was time to exact some revenge for any number of perceived infractions against himself and other law-abiding figures of the community! At the first sign of the suspects rabbitting, Marsette snatched his MPK-11 from the recess between his seat and Pvt. Huff’s. The Kuma offered very little in the way of cover, but that also meant that he had an open range of fire on the fellow that had opened up with a shotgun. Pulling the trigger, Marsette sent a three round burst after the man’s soul. Water kicked up in front of him, but it was to no other effect.
“Croaker!” Firewind had seen the nomad’s plight from twenty feet away. Eight meters wasn’t much of a distance to clear, but it took all of the medtech’s courage to muster against the minigun. The toe of his boot slipped through the mud as he pushed from his position and rushed towards the nomad, hunched at the shoulders and bent at the waist, his Baretta firing at the car. He didn’t care if he hit, he just hoped that the incoming fire would be enough to discourage them shooting back if only for a short time. When one is trained by The Sandman, however, even random firing can be dangerous.
The medtech was too busy sliding up beside the injured nomad to notice that all three of his rounds had struck the pintle gunner, though none had penetrated Pvt. Huff’s armor it was still an amazing display of accuracy, all things considered. Hooking his left arm under Croaker’s right shoulder, Firewind jerked him to his feet, feeling the weight of the man leaning up against him as they started for the relative safety of the hillside.
“Mobile Patrol, Rover One-Niner-Five reporting enemy encounter on main route,” Pvt. First Class Wreede said while rolling out of the back, passenger side of the vehicle to put a lot of cover between himself and the enemy. His MPK was ready, but he was more intent on getting the report in at the moment than firing on the enemy. “Firefight ensuing.” Glancing over the top of the seats he continued, “One mark wounded, at least two others visible. Mark’s vehicle is an RV, NorCal license plate reading PK9-144.”
Pvt. Fray had been hit. The impact of the submachine gun rounds had taken his breath away, both from the sudden realization that his armor had been penetrated, and the realization that he had at least one bullet buried in the muscle of his right peck. Crying out in rage and pain, he slipped from the back seat of the Kuma and opened up with a three-round burst at the pair struggling off the road. He was not pleased when the ground directly between the pair and the Kuma spat water in protest at being shot.
Colton Harris felt his stomach clench in rage. He’d just found his tribesman roughly twenty-four hours prior after thinking that he was alone once more in this world, and here some corporation was about to end the reunion! Bull’s Eye knew that if that minigunner had another chance to open up on Croaker and Firewind they were likely dead. Turning slightly, he opened up another four round burst on the man. The glass windscreen splayed out with a white blossom, and the gunner jerked again as water sprayed from his chest with the impact of the round, but his armor apparently held.
It was his turn now, and Huff grinned behind his armored facemask, streaked with rainwater that beaded up and ran from the wind. Depressing the trigger he felt the weapon spit death and watched as the ground about the pair sprayed up with multiple geysers. The trench coat bucked twice more and the pair staggered, and then a millisecond later the larger man’s left leg crumpled from underneath them. Pvt. Huff swore under his breath as the two toppled over the edge and out of sight.
Croaker was glad for Firewind’s help, and it was really pure adrenaline that kept them moving. Then the world around them exploded with those noisy insects once more, and Croaker felt the tibia of his left leg snap, and once again he was falling forward. This time taking Firewind with him as the two toppled over the edge of the slope and tumbled through the grass, leaves, and mud. Everything blurred then, the pain was intense, immobilizing, and blinding. Croaker was enveloped in a blanket made of blades.
Marsette kept his weapon leveled as he inched around the back of the vehicle to provide himself with more cover. The one with the shotgun was screaming like some maniac, still firing as his companions went over the edge, victims of Pvt. Huff’s minigun. Pulling the trigger again Marsette attempted to end the fight by ridding the world of the last man standing.
Bull’s Eye felt the rounds impacting against his armor, but ignored their bruising effects, keeping his eye on that turret gunner.
Firewind had lost hold of Croaker when they went over the edge. He’d tumbled, slid, rolled, and slid some more, ultimately winding up quite a ways down the hillside near the steeper incline. Only through falling back on the training he’d received from The Sandman had he retained hold of his weapon, and his bag was slung over his shoulders—though tangled—so it was still with him. Scrambling to his knees he peered about for the wounded man, spotting him eight meters away, up the hillside slowly sliding through the mud, Bull’s Eye visible beyond him still engaged with the enemy.
“Hold on!” he called out as he pushed through the slippery earth to frantically crawl the distance between him and Croaker. Once at his side, Firewind gritted his teeth against the conditions. It was difficult with the rain and mud to see where the big man had been hit.
“Croaker! Where’re you injured? Croaker!” There was no answer. The nomad just continued to writhe in pain.
Having called the encounter in, Pvt. First Class Wreede joined in the fight…sort of. Turning about he snatched up the receiver and activated it. “You are outgunned, outmanned, and outclassed. Throw down your weapons and surrender to Biotechnica justice and your lives will be spared!”
Pvt. Fray could care less for that option. He wanted these edgerunner’s blood. They’d shot him!!! Leveling his weapon, Fray let loose with another three-round burst, watching as water kicked up from the shotgunner’s body and arms with each impact.
Bull’s Eye jerked about as he was impacted again, and again. His mind worked quickly. There were four of the enemy, one with a minigun that could spit out a hundred rounds a every couple of seconds, and by now they’d likely called in reinforcements. Croaker was down, maybe dead, and Firewind was out of sight, possibly hit as well. Surrender to the Megacorp had never even been considered up until now. Maybe if they surrendered Peacekeeper and MDK still had a chance…maybe Bull’s Eye could work something from the inside…
Hoisting his shotgun into the air, Bull’s Eye called out, “We’re done! I surrender!”
Pvt. Huff barely managed not to pull the trigger once more as he swiveled the deadly weapon to bear on the haggard-looking nomad. Wreede lifted the receiver to his lips once more, “Throw your weapons in front of you and keep your hands where we can see them.” Letting go of the receiver, he continued to give orders, this time to his patrol. “Huff, keep that are covered, Marsette, Fray, secure that area.”
“I’m hit, Wreede!” Fray gasped, leaning against the rear fender of the rover. “The bastards got me!”
“How bad?”
“It hurts like hell,” Fray rolled dramatically towards his seat once again, his weapon still pointed at Bull’s Eye as Wreede made his way around the back of the Kuma.
“Then cover us,” Pvt. Wreede ordered as he and Marsette crept slowly towards their captive, concerned that the other two might be waiting in ambush. Bull’s Eye hesitated only a moment before tossing the shotgun away, and gingerly slipping his Comanche from its holster to toss it after the boomstick.
Down the hillside, Firewind unzipped his bag and fetched his airhypo out with practiced efficiency. The interior of the bag had sewn pockets just big enough for airhypo dosages and Keahi had organized his bag so that he knew where everything was, even in the worst lighting conditions. Slipping a smooth, glass canister from its pocket he plugged it into the airhypo and pressed it up against Croaker’s neck. He’d heard Bull’s Eye give in and thought that it was the smartest thing he’d seen either of these two nomads do since he’d met them. As the drug dispersed into Croaker’s system, Keahi knew his time was very limited. Dropping the device back into his bag he retrieved his medscanner, activated it, and began to put it to work.
The drug was quick-working and very soon after the administration of the drug, Croaker went limp, the sedative fully in control of his nervous system. It was as much a mercy to the nomad as it was a necessity. Keahi only hoped he had time to determine where the injuries lay and begin addressing them before the man bled out, or the corporate guards converged upon him and made him stop his efforts.
Pvt. Marsette approached within a couple of meters of Bull’s Eye, who had kept his hands where they could see, his hate-filled eyes watching them as closely as they were keeping an eye on him. “Get up here,” Marsette ordered, motioning in front of him with the barrel of his weapon. “Slowly, and no frackin’ funny business or I’ll dust you off so quick you’d think you’d never been born.”
Without a word, Colton did as he was told, rising to his feet and slowly struggling up the hill. He had to put his hand down twice as he made his way up the mudslide, and once he achieved the summit, he dropped to his knees once again. Wreede, meanwhile, worked his way in wide berth of the captive until he could crane his neck to look over the edge of the hill, his weapon ready. It took him a second to find the two (one hunched over the other).
“Put your hands up! Put them where I can see them, now!” he barked as he came to a full crest of the hillside and pointed his MPK downhill at the hunched man’s back.
“He’s bleeding out!” Keahi called up the hill while looking over his shoulder. “I’m just going to stop the bleeding, OK?”
“One wrong move and I’ll end you,” Wreede called back. “Get him stabilized and then get your asses up this hill.”
“No funny business,” Firewind responded as he turned back to the medscanner to review the results. “I promise.” He didn’t have time for funny business. Croaker’s left leg was broken at the tibia, about two inches from the medial condyle, and the tibialis anterior was suffering from severe trauma. His right leg had trauma to the vastus lateralis, but luckily it had missed all major arteries. Retrieving the bone glue from his bag, Keahi wished like hell he had a light, as it was he had to clear away the mud from the nomad’s wounds, pull the pant leg up around the shin, and administer the bone glue there. He didn’t know how much experience the men at the top of the hill had with medical triage situations, but he was going to get as much done to Croaker as he could before turning him over to the Biotechnica medical team. It wasn’t likely they’d do anything more than make sure he didn’t die until they could try him, and if they were to get out of this, Keahi knew Croaker had to come about sooner rather than later. So, he worked at mending the bone, the healing glue acting as a bridge to close the splintered pieces of bone together while Keahi worked to remove the bullet; which was, thankfully, in a rather obvious position. Next came the tissue glue to mend the muscle on both the shin and the thigh. And lastly came the Speedheal. Sure, it would result in Croaker being a little slower in the end game, but it would double his healing rate, and the nomad wasn’t coherent enough to make the decision.
Tucking away all of his supplies, Firewind put his hands in the air and turned about slowly on his knees until he could see the silhouetted form of the soldier on the hillside. Bull’s Eye was no longer in sight, but Keahi hadn’t heard any executing gunfire, so he figured the man was still alive.
“I’m done,” he called. “He’s stable, but I won’t be able to get him up that hill on my own.”
“Our orders were to eliminate any threat we encountered,” came the reply. “Do you know what that means, Choomba?”
Keahi sighed. It meant that he either figured out a way to get Croaker’s two hundred plus pounds up that hillside or they’d just put a bullet in his brain and not worry about it. Turning about once more he surreptitiously dropped his Baretta into his bag as he shouldered it, then moved up behind Croaker’s head and grabbed the slippery man underneath his arms.
It was very difficult, carrying as much weight as he was in his bag, his medical armor, and Croaker, not to mention the nomad’s bag, but Keahi finally crested the hill to collapse at the corporate guard’s feet gasping for breath and completely worn out. His bag was taken, as was Croaker’s, and all of their weapons confiscated. Croaker was loaded up in the back of the Kuma where Fray sat glaring at him while holding his bleeding chest, but Firewind and Bull’s Eye were made to walk in front of the vehicle back up the slippery road. They hadn’t gone too far when another of those Kumas approached with another patrol of four. Wreede informed them of where the RV was located and two of the new patrol dismounted to continue on to the RV while Firewind, Bull’s Eye, and the rest of the original patrol were loaded up in the other Kuma.
The winding road eventually went between two gatehouses, the chainlink gates parting on mechanized gears to allow the patrol and its prisoners access. There was still some distance left to go, but the vehicles ate it up fairly quickly. Bull’s Eye took in his surroundings from beneath his brow and as secretly as he could while he kept his head lowered. Keahi mostly kept an eye on Croaker. Eventually they pulled into the parking lot of the northernmost building.
“Let’s go,” Wreede ordered as he hopped out of the vehicle, keeping his weapons trained on the men. Seeing Firewind’s questioning gaze towards Craoker, Wreede grinned wickedly. “He’ll be taken to the triage center. I’d suggest you worry more about your own ass right now, Medic.”
It took security cards to gain access on the locks admitting them to the building. The halls within were clean, bathed in pale white light from the opaque panels overhead, and painted a soft eggshell blue. Bull’s Eye kept his head hung. His heart was racing at being a captive once again. The problem with being taken captive by a megacorp was that they didn’t always report it to the law, and that meant that they could enact their own form of justice. Depending on the man in charge at the moment, and the results they were after, it could be worse than penitentiary.
They were led down a number of halls before stopping in front of a thick glass window that was obviously bulletproofed. There they were relieved of all of their armor, leaving them in basic clothing, barefoot, and cold. From there they proceeded on to another room with a similar set up. Behind this glass sat another of the corporate soldiers. When they arrived, this man reached forward and activated a comm. unit.
“Got ‘em, huh?”
“Sure thing, Gunny,” Wreede grinned back from behind his mask. “Another one of them’s pretty shot up—encountered Huff on the minigun—“
“Heh,” Gunny chuckled. “Poor bastard.”
“Any case,” Wreede pushed Bull’s Eye a bit with the barrel of his MPK. “I’d like to get this scum off my hands, if you know what I mean.”
“No problem,” Gunny pressed another button that sounded a buzzer and caused a steel reinforced door to click open where Marsette was waiting nearby. “You can throw ‘em in the holding cell with that other fella who was snooping around a couple of days ago.”
Wreede gave a nod and proceeded to push them on through the door at gunpoint. A couple of halls later and they were at another steel-reinforced door with a card security device. Wreede tapped the door with his weapon barrel as he peered through the thin window at the occupants within.
“Back away from the door, and stay there. You attempt anything and your life is forfeit.”
With the warning in place, he swiped his card once more and opened the door revealing a room approximately twelve by twelve with a ten foot ceiling filled by those same pale panels emitting light. There was a single cot against the far wall, a toilet, and a light-weight folding chair. Within this cell was another man.
This new fellow was built like a two-and-a-half ton truck: broad in the shoulders, ripped with muscle. He wore his blonde hair short and spiked, an affable look about him. His clothing consisted of brown leather pants that looked like they’d seen better days, and a white t-shirt. He too was barefoot. There was a cut just below his hairline on his left temple surrounded by a nasty bruise, but otherwise he looked healthy.
“In you go,” Wreede ordered, pushing Bull’s Eye so that he staggered forward. Firewind followed without hesitation, turning in the center of the room to stare down their captors, causing Wreede to laugh. “What’s the matter, Savage? Not free to roam the plains anymore?”
“That’s the Native American Indians you’re referring to, Prick,” Keahi spat. “I’m Hawaiian.”
Marsette barked his laughter and slapped Wreede on the shoulder. “Can’t tell your apples from oranges, Wreede?”
“Least my last date wasn’t with someone with an Adam’s Apple, Marsette,” Wreede snapped back, pointing at Keahi in unspoken warning as he stepped back to close the door.
“Hey! It was dark—“
With the door closed, Bull’s Eye turned a wary eye on their cellmate. He was all too familiar with cellblock culture, and knew that he’d have to establish dominance immediately to keep respect, especially considering his size in comparison to the gorilla they’d been quartered with.
“Name’s Bull’s Eye,” Colton said in a low tone, his stance one ready to spring. “This here’s Firewind. Fess up, big guy. You a fraggin’ mole for the Big Man, or you on our side?”
Keahi sighed and shook his head. “Look, I’m sorry for his attitude, but we just got shot up and shut down all within a couple of seconds. It isn’t lookin’ so good, so he’s a bit bitchy. What he said is true though; I’m Firewind. What’s your name?”
“Shut it, Medic,” Bull’s Eye growled, still eyeballing the blonde man. “You on our side, or not?”
“What side, Bull’s Eye?” Keahi spread his arms in an exasperated manner. “Look around you, Choomba. We’re packaged. Fried and done. There’s no getting out of this except through megacorp justice. So put it to rest so that we can all get some sleep!”
Bull’s Eye ignored Firewind’s argument and continued to meet the other man’s eye. “Our side, or not?”
Wilderness – Northeast of Night City – March, Friday 13th, 2020, 11:35pm
Posted on 2008-08-21 at 23:32:04.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Ack!
Dern time space continuum!
Posted on 2008-08-21 at 19:30:46.
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Topic: The Embodiment
Subject: Then
I'd say that makes Nolara the Mute next...provided it happens before one of the others beats you to the punch.
Posted on 2008-08-21 at 03:35:02.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I would imagine...
They likely would have had such information as was obtainable available in their review.
Oh, and as for the PADD in the Romulan's area: I'm afraid it would have been confiscated upon boarding the ship. Sorry.
Posted on 2008-08-20 at 23:18:42.
Edited on 2008-08-21 at 04:09:30 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I would imagine...
They likely would have had such information as was obtainable available in their review.
Posted on 2008-08-20 at 20:58:08.
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Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: I would imagine...
They likely would have had such information as was obtainable available in their review.
Posted on 2008-08-20 at 20:50:00.
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
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