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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Done and done.

I've moved the game on.

Posted on 2007-04-29 at 00:54:07.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Carrying it on

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”

It was as though the announcement of their ineptitude had opened the doors for trouble. From the direction of the Hole the three men heard the sounds of gunfire. Some of it sounded like high caliber handguns, but there was also automatic weapon’s fire as well. It was a quick spattering that they heard and then it was followed up by calls from the roof. The action was going down, but it wasn’t coming from inside. It was coming from the rooftop!

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

Firewind was a special breed of medical. He hadn’t taken his education as a way off the Streets, but instead, he’d been forced to embrace the way of life due to unfortunate circumstances. These circumstances had led him to seek combat instruction from a reclusive solo and it was to this mentor that the medtech now attributed his calm reaction and quick thinking. He’d come along to sedate Merry Deth, and that was what he was going to do. He could see she was reaching behind her, see that she had a wild, frantic look in her beautiful eyes as she slowly rose from the couch Peacekeeper had just put Stallion over, and he instinctively knew that if she achieved a weapon their mission would be a complete failure.

It started slow in his mind, the rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, but the momentum built and Keahi quickly found himself clearing the distance between him and Queen Merry. His right hand had first darted towards his Baretta, but he’d altered its course to jam it into his pocket and was already producing the airhypo he’d prepared. The sedative wasn’t the most powerful knock out drug, but it should work.

Leaping over the coffee table Firewind landed on the couch with his right leg pressed shin against her thighs and his left forearm against her collarbones slamming her back against the couch and trapping her right arm behind her back. He could feel her arch her back, her hips twisting beneath him like a frantic lover. It was an attempt to knock him off, but it was unsuccessful. He weighed more and he was already inching his way into a decent grapple. It wasn’t a sure thing, but he was close, the airhypo held out away from her body so she couldn’t use her left hand to knock it free.

From overhead the sounds of muffled gunfire could be heard over the patterned slapping of rain on the windows.

(Spiff’s action… please, everyone remember to post your offensive and defensive strategy so I can just move us through this.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm

The motion was as smooth as French chocolate silk on a glamvid model’s body. Guardian hit the graveled roof and as he was rising up from the forced crouch of his landing, he produced the chipped .44. Straight-armed and with only a slight turn of the head, the large bodyguard snapped off a single round and watched, satisfied, as the ganger’s head disappeared in a spray of black against the tumultuous night sky. The rifle that the man held vanished in the shadows as did his body.

Guardian knew that the party wasn’t over though. There will still three vipers in this pit and as he was turning to face the other parallel to his position he hear the sound of a three round burst fill the night and braced for impact while still training his weapon in that direction, the crosshairs in his eye jumping across the jagged scenery to square up on the shadowy form spewing fire from the mouth of his rifle. There was the sound of metal being struck somewhere nearby; dull thunks into the rooftop that registered within Guardian’s head as near misses. Nothing struck true and DigitalScribe was slowly pushing himself up from his crash landing, but this was a peripheral knowledge for the bodyguard brought to him through his training alone. His focus was on the immediate danger in the street punk.

The crosshairs blinked red for a brief moment and Guardian snapped off his second shot. The shadow that was the ganger spun about in a near 360° before collapsing to the rooftop, his weapon dropping harmlessly to the gravel.

Two down and Guardian knew it wasn’t over. At least DigitalScribe seemed to have recovered from his crashlanding. The media was on his knees and sucking in deep breaths, both hands on his thighs as he tried to push himself up. There were cries coming from the front of the building, but no sign of the gangers yet. Guardian had seconds maybe before the battle continued. At least the media wasn’t out of it, and Guardian saw that the green light was on the camera. Maybe the whole crazy scenario had just been caught on video…

“Get…” Frankie staggered to his feet and began stumbling towards the relative cover that the cooling ducts would provide as he produced a Sternmeyer from underneath his overcoat. He was still sucking air. He’d had the breath knocked clean out of him.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am

(For those of you following the timeline, this is still the first combat phase. Only Guardian has taken two actions. Everyone else has taken one. Pretty impressive shooting Guardian.)

Posted on 2007-04-28 at 21:38:11.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Starting it up.

Jim laughs heartily, “Well we’s don’t have sausage Dash-man, but we does have a side of bacon we can’t be keeping for fear of going bad, and The eggs come to us mixed, so you’ll have to like scrambled.” Jim looks over at the far empty airlock again, “But please bring your crew in for a bite. We ain’t had company for awhile and Sam gets tired of my talkin’ to myself. Them in the other ship will be a spell and if things get nasty then we are best in numbers. Any your crew not the fighting type, we’s got a basement, safe and snug.”

Sam comes up to shake hands as well, “Bailey Sachet, he’s your contact on Regina, well he hides some of the farm goods insides those containers which keeps them frozen. That’s hows we got good vittles here. Part of the payment for the ice the miners need so bad. Once we take them out and thaw them though, they start going fast, even in the icebox, so we have a feast and you’re timing was right. Yeah, it’s illegal to haul livestock and fresh fixins between worlds, but at absolute zero there ain’t much fear of contamination. I’m sure you’s folk don’t mind partaking in a little under the law action.”

Wyatt was absolutely certain that he didn’t care a whit about transportin’ cargo he wasn’t aware of what it fully contained. He’d heard plenty of stories about transport ships being blown open in the Black because the cargo had been unstable, but they hadn’t known. While his ire rose almost immediately at the news he swallowed it just as quickly, for the fact was that the cargo weren’t hostile and they’d get some good eats out of it. With a nod, Wyatt reached in for his com unit and placed it up against his ear.

“Roc, why don’t ya all come on down to the spread for a bite t’ eat. Step lightly folks, we don’t want t’ ruin Sam’s tomatoes.” As the radio squelched he hoped they caught the drift. He didn’t want no one leaving Roc without some sort of weapon… anyone except Willow that is. He didn’t think he could remember a time she’d strapped on.

Sung tries to position himself in such a manner so as to be able to see the other airlock, if at all possible, and tips his hat back. “So, Jim, I don’t mean t’ be rude, but yer not plannin’ t’ pack nothin’ un-ice-like in what we’re packin’ out are you?”

Posted on 2007-04-28 at 20:40:21.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Raven and Greenleaf...

Well, I could move things on with just Raven posting. I think Greenleaf just lost that option.

Posted on 2007-04-28 at 01:08:33.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Blammm inspired me.

From the shadows a eerie scratching sound tickles the player's ears. At first it is ignored, maybe purposefully, until first one, then another, and another of the intrepid gamers finally turn to peer into the blackness. It is then that the creature lunges! A writhing torrent of scales and fangs, its huge mouth agape, displaying a struggling Bromern Sal caught within its maw.

"I'll..." The beast lashes its head to the side in a vain attempt to cause the struggling player to slip into its gullet.

"Be..." Unsuccessful with its last attempt, the creature throws itself into a a death roll just like the crocs of the Land Down Under, but Bromern's not an easy kill as he forces his way head and shoulders from the mouth.

"Right..." Realizing that its meal is about to escape, the giant reptillian monster bobs its head and rises up to a vertical angle, hoping gravity will wraps its greedy hands about Sal's body. Grimacing, Bromern lodges a knee against the roof of the creature's mouth and twists to as to keep it wide while he grabs one of the beast's horns so that he can gain some leverage.

"There!" Finally! The brave soul manages to drop from the angry maw and stumble back towards the party; who, peering around the slime-covered player with awe-filled eyes spot a collar around the creature's neck with a dangling tag like that of a dog's tag. Upon this tag are two words displayed prominently as though they were the creature's name:


Turning to the others Bromern sighs and peers down at his ruined outfit. "Smokes, but that nearly got me!"

Posted on 2007-04-28 at 01:07:27.
Edited on 2007-04-28 at 01:07:44 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: One more day.

I've sent Greenleaf a PM so we'll give him one more day to respond. If he doesn't at that point I'll let the dice determine his action and move things on.

Posted on 2007-04-25 at 14:09:54.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: The one behind her back...

I just posted what you could see. She has a weapon behind her back and that realization is what your characters just had.

Posted on 2007-04-21 at 16:55:44.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: This is why I want you to wait.

I want the others to post their initial reactions so that I can better tell you all what you hear in that immediate three seconds.

Patience Padawan.

Posted on 2007-04-20 at 14:10:02.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Hee hee hee...

Congrats to Dark Autumn! Peacekeeper earned an IP in Combat Sense!

All right folks (at least those edgerunners who're facing the bullet), I need how you're going to react offensively, defensively, and if retreat is necessary, how you'll react then.

Tann, and Blammm, you'll want to wait until they've posted and I let you know timelines so you can react to what is amounting to gunfire.

Good luck Choombattas!

Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:55:00.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: And it begins...

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

Coyote paused while he considered the suggestion. The rain had added to the slick look of his long, black hair and he stroked his thin beard as he squinted at the building they stood next to. He kept glancing back towards the Hole while he deliberated until he finally shook his head.

“No,” he said with a deepening of his near perpetual scowl. “I ain’t trying to be difficult, Hombre, but I don’t have the range t’ do no one no good from the top of that.” He reached around his back and gave his hardware a pat. “Purely gama corta, mi amigo. If ya know what I mean.”

Preacher held up his hands and shook his head preemptively. “I got nothin’ that shoots distance either, Choomba.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The room hung silent for a moment after Spiff made his speech. It was heavy, like a Georgia thunderstorm in midsummer. The thunder rumbling outside was like the angry growl of a caged beast… and quite suddenly, it was released.

“You lyin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Stallion’s hand darted for his gun as he rose from his seat, murder in his eyes.

Dawn was caught flat-footed as her boss leapt from his seat, but Peacekeeper and Firewind weren’t. The room was suddenly a flurry, and it’d be seconds before Stallion’s bodyguards burst into the room as they had a bit of distance to cover.

Everything was moving much slower for the enhanced bounty hunter. She saw Stallion’s muscles tense beneath his armored jeans as he began to scream at them and knew he was coming to his feet. The bunching of his shoulders told her that he planned on skinning steel, so, naturally, she went for her piece and in a fluid motion that belied the natural motion of the human body, Peacekeeper had produced the .44 Automag. She was already wired for it and the targeting scope in her right eye quickly spun the crosshairs to bead on the ganger’s head. He’d just finished yelling “son-of-a-“ when her weapon went off. It kicked in her small hands, but years of experience held it steady. She’d already determined that the ganger was armored underneath his skin and she placed the dual-purpose round right between the man’s eyes. It was a beautiful shot and in the breadth of a nanosecond, Peacekeeper had forced the Wild Things to find a new leader.

Stallion had risen to the occasion in time to get ripped from his feet and thrown over backwards. His right hand flung away from his body and cast his weapon across the room as his feet slipped out from underneath him. He ended his momentum with his lower back stretched out over the back of the couch.

It’d happened faster than most could have thought possible, but Firewind had been on edge ever since he’d climbed in that van. He, too, was boosted, as any combat doc should be, and as the woman on the other side of Spiff moved so gracefully and quickly, Keahi was producing his weapon. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dawn moving as if through heavy water, her hands inching towards her weapons. In front of him, Merry Deth was also moving as though slowed by a motion frame, reaching for her weapon. Spiff stood between Firewind and Peacekeeper, cellphone still in his hand, slightly behind their position as he’d turned and stepped away to place his fateful call.

(OOC: It is Firewind’s turn. Merry Deth’s moving fast too, faster than Spiff, but Spiff is moving faster than Dawn. Yes… the monkey feces has hit the spinning blades despite Spiff’s use of luck. Can’t beat an exploding ten plus another ten unless you roll the same thing. Sorry Spiff, and good luck choombattas.)

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm

"You serious about this, choomba? Are you armed and able to give me some cover if needed?" Already pushing himself slowly backwards and away from the edge, Guardian felt good about the decision despite the obvious danger. At least they were moving now and moving meant getting warm. "Just remember I'm not a soldier... But I'll do what it takes to keep you alive."

“I’ll be honest here, Guardian,” DigitalScribe said with a worried glance back over the edge before he started to move back away from it alongside his bodyguard. “I’ve got heat, but I’m no soldier either.”

The words weren’t meant to be a pep talk, just honest. It was always best to be honest in the face of death as far as Frankie was concerned; and here, well, death just about stank up the place.

When the two men were back far enough Frankie had a thought. “I guess if we aim for the other side of the fire escape, should we jump short, we’ll hit the fire escape instead of falling to our deaths. But if we make it, then we’ll be that much better off.”

It was unnecessary as an observation went, but the comment brought a sense of ease to the situation for DigitalScribe. It wasn’t that he was afraid of conflict. He’d been in many a firefight. No, this was more of a combination of the thrill of the hunt coming to conclusion and the fact that he was sure they were going to have to face off against Croaker and Peacekeeper when all was said and done. He hadn’t yet decided how he was going to deal with that little pickle.


DigitalScribe’s boot scraped gravel as he took off at full speed towards the ledge. The weight of his wet clothes was something he was very aware of, and the bouncing shoulder rig he wore was something that he found himself worrying about more than he should have. Within moments he was airborne, bits of gravel and water cascading from his feet, his arms spinning in a windmill fashion to keep him upright. The alley sped by underneath and before he wanted it to, the descent was upon him.

Guardian was hot on his heels and the rush of air washed his wet face just as quickly as he passed over the urban gorge. He had been right about the extra weight of the wet gear, but he compensated, and soon found himself falling towards the roof of the Hole.

The toe of his boot caught the cement rim of the rooftop and DigitalScribe felt it slip almost immediately. His heart leapt into his throat, his hands went out in front of him, and the dark gravel of the roof rushed up to meet his face. The small pebbles tore into the soft flesh of his palms, the weight of his momentum pushing his chest into the surface and the air from his lungs at the impact. He bounced, half-rolled, and then struck the rooftop again with a heavy groan. His vision burst into a billion small speckles of light and his mind was washed over by a wave of numbness.

Guardian landed easily and slid to right himself. To his left, he felt more than saw, his employer bite it hard against the rooftop, and then the audible grunt and smack of DigitalScribe’s body hitting gravel rang out to him clear as a bell. They were closer to the ganger on the southwest corner of the building, and it was to this location that told Guardian that the man had heard something. The shadow was rising up and turning towards them, his rifle coming to bear.

(OOC: Guardian has initiative, but DigitalScribe is stunned, so he’s on his own this round).

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am

Posted on 2007-04-20 at 02:52:27.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Ah, the weekend!


Posted on 2007-04-20 at 01:46:57.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Conversating

“Well, come on up gentlemen. Your motives may be pure but I ain’t too sure about that other ship’s. We can offer you some nice, home-cooked breakfast, and coffee, as a way to make amends for our neighborly-like stance.”

Wyatt gave a quick nod as though confirming what he’d already assumed would happen and smacked Sam on the arm with the back of his hand as he stepped forward.

“Guess that’s Diplomacy one, Violence zero,” he said wryly as he proceeded on his way towards the prospector’s digs. He had to agree with the fellow who’d done the yelling (Jim was it?) that the other ship was more than a bit of an enigma, and Wyatt wasn’t too keen on surprises.

“Sam,” he said calmly as the two approached the building. “Don’t take nothin’ fer granted, and see if you can’t check on that other airlock every once in a while. I’ll do the same, an’ I know you weren’t likely t’ doze off on me, but it needed sayin’ none-the-less.”

As they reached the porch a tall, thin man stepped from within. He wore denim overalls and a red flannel shirt that looked to Wyatt as though they’d seen better days. He was smiling all easy-like and had a way about him that made Wyatt want to like him. It was a natural ease-setter, causing the captain to feel the symptoms of relaxing his guard stretch their wings, and that was dangerous. His hair was as much a mess as his clothing, but it seemed to fit, and Sung couldn’t help but think that this guy must be a hoot around a camp fire.

“Jim Ryan,” the man said, offering his right hand as Wyatt and Dash stepped onto the porch.

“Wyatt Sung,” the captain responded in an equally relaxed fashion. He let Sam do his own bit of introduction as he peered into what looked to be a fairly well-furnished establishment.

Once introductions were finished Wyatt lifted his hat from his head and ran his fingers through his hair to release it from the pressed-down nature it had taken form to. They were making their way inside and he figured now was as good a time as any to press the issue of the other ship.

“Jim,” his voice carried a near lazy tone to it; almost a drawl. “You made mention of havin’ trouble in the past with claim jumpers, so I’ve no doubt you and your partner know how to use a rifle, but I’ve got my own crew to be concerned with an’ this other ship… well, they come down in front of us and near skinned Rocinante with their burners like they was itchin’ t’ put us adrift in the Black, or at the very least; didn’t care. Now, in my book, that spells trouble.

“Now, this here’s your bit of dirt—er, uh, ice—an’ I won’t pretend that I’m in any sort of command over what’s yours, but I’d feel a might better knowing that we was pretty safe conducting our business and partakin’ of your hospitality what with my crew attached all precarious to the belly of a comet and all.

“Sides which, I got me a right hungry crew an’ I’m sure they’d love some parcels of something other than protein paste for breakfast if’n you’re offering.”

Posted on 2007-04-19 at 02:45:05.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Now that I review

The timestamps mean that there's plenty of time for Eol and I to post some conversation bits with the prospectors before you all are done with your chores.

I'll try to post tonight.

Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:07:44.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Was eyeing the...

Char was too caught up eyeing the two-weapon fighting. Never quite made it to the deoderant.

Posted on 2007-04-18 at 14:04:47.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Where can I purchase that?

Is it on aisle 4?

Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:41:16.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Sure...

As far as Wyatt is concerned the danger isn't over yet. He's not keen on inviting Willow into the thick of it, and the rest of the crew is busy with their duties right now. If things go smooth (I think the timestamps Roger put out there for us put the conversation between Sam, Wyatt, and the prospectors quite a bit ahead of the docking ship) he'll be more than happy to have the whole of the crew join them for a homecooked meal. Right now, he's not being a selfish jerk, but is concerned about his crew's safety.

Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:39:46.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Thanks for the heads up

I may just post that basic response for you.

Posted on 2007-04-18 at 00:35:49.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Uh

I think that constitutes suicide... doesn't it?

Posted on 2007-04-17 at 00:49:00.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Way I figure it...

This is one of those cases where I'll post after the lot of you seeing how there's a chance for a lot of communicating. Figure Wyatt will make sure things are solid-steady on the Lullaby before inviting Willow to join them for the business end of things. His guard isn't down, but he's diplomatic-cordial with the miners just so-as y'all know. He'll certainly not turn down a good home-cooked breakfast!

Posted on 2007-04-15 at 23:40:54.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Sorry about the delayed posting.

All right, things are moving forward again. I've posted. I've also sent a message to Raven asking if he's still in as Guardian... believe me. You guys want him playing Guardian, so bug him.

Posted on 2007-04-15 at 23:31:58.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Vamoose!

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

Preacher gave a quick nod as he glanced back the direction Croaker had indicated. South meant taking them out of range of the sentry’s vision (hopefully) and crossing the street at an easier local. The problem, as the solo saw it, was that it would mean a good two to five minutes where those inside the building would be left to their own devices… not that they really weren’t anyway what with the lot of them outside and out of range to help without getting a hole blown through their skulls. Then there was the suggestion of putting one of them on the rooftop of the apartment building they were on, another couple of minutes at best to accomplish that. Still, Croaker was calling the shots. He had been from the moment Preacher had joined and so long as the solo’s life wasn’t put in too serious jeopardy he was good following orders. He, too, waited on Coyote’s response. If the nomad wanted to spend the time hoofin’ all over the city while the rest of the team was indoors there wasn’t much Preacher could do, or say, about it.

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The play was priceless. It was a pissing match of undeniable blatancy. Spiff was making his move and trusting to Peacekeeper and Firewind to watch his back. They were in Stallion’s house, the gang leader was armed and had bodyguards within a wink of an eye away, and the three of them would have to fight a horde of heavily-armed boosters who were sober and serious in order to get out. There was only one answer to the question of, “How dare he?” and that was that he must have a huge set of balls.

Firewind and Peacekeeper caught the show though. While Spiff had his back turned they witnessed Stallion’s face turn an ugly shade of red quicker than a two dollar whore turned a trick. His hand started over towards his piece, but Merry Deth stalled him with a hand on his thigh and a quick word in his ear where her painted lips touched his lobe for just a second… a second that surely sent a tingle down his spine.

The phone conversation was brief, but informative. “Tell me something I want to hear.”

”I’ve sent you the schematics on the Hole, boss. I’ve looked at ‘em and I think the man’d be in the top floor, penthouse suite. That’s likely where he and Queen Mary would be. Boss… Boss, you there?”

“You’re obviously a busy cat,” Stallion’s voice broke in on the conversation. His amusement was evident and it occurred to everyone there that he’d seen through Spiff’s bluff. “But I got no time to play at games. If what Elizabeth has said you told her is true, I got to get my troops ready for a fight tonight. ‘Course, it was awful nice of you to come down here in person to check up on things. I ain’t about to turn away free Chooh, understand? So why don’t you three just make yourselves comfortable and tell me how it is you came about this data. I want to know everything you do, and pronto. You may even say that your very lives depend on it… seeing how the lot o’ you be sitting in my house when it’s about to get attacked, ya know? So sing, li’l bird. You don’t have all night.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to the Hole – 12:53pm

“Ok Frankie you want a story I can get you a story but only after its all said and done. But if thats not good enough for you so be it. Unless there's anything else you want to say to me I guess this is goodbye and oh one more thing I will be sure to give Peacekeeper your hello.”

DigitalScribe slowly closed his phone and stared out into the rain for a moment. He wasn’t concerned so much about Peacekeeper; not with Guardian around. Those other two he’d hired tonight had been small fish compared to the big black bodyguard, and the media was going to go into debt if he had to in order to keep the man around until this conflict with Croaker and Peacekeeper was resolved. He gave a slightly frustrated shake of his head and coughed as quietly as he could into his hand. The nomad had always been stubborn, and rarely could see the bigger picture, but Frankie thought for certain that reminding him of the debt he owed the media would be enough to calm his fires. Croaker was many things, but DigitalScribe had always thought him honorable.

“Damn!” Frankie rolled over to his belly again and scooted up to the edge. “Fraq!” His bright blue eyes scanned the rooftop once more, then turned to Guardian. “It’s going down, Choomba. That was Croaker on the line there, and he’s feeling desperate or he wouldn’t have called again.” Turning back to the building he pointed at the fire escape. It was closer than the building and would be an easy landing pad from their location. Of course, it’d be noisier than hitting the rooftop, but beggars couldn’t be choosers… or something like that. “We got to get over there and quick.”

At Guardian’s questioning stare Frankie sighed. “OK, so I got a soft spot for people I care about, even if they want to put holes in me that don’t belong there. Not to mention that the only way this story is going to pay off is if we’re getting the footage, neh? So, we back up to there,” he pointed over his right shoulder, the left still bearing the shoulder camera, “and get a runnin’ start. Then, we’re flying like the eagle to the sea… only not so far. You get the drift. The sentries are still at their posts so we’ll have to move quick. See that large cooling unit? We’ll have to sprint to that and dig in to stay outta their frame. You good with this?”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - Night City/Rooftop next to The Hole – 12:53am

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:53am
“Mother frackin’ son-of-a-bitch!” Lobo snapped his cell phone shut and closed his eyes for a moment, his left hand slicking his long, black hair back on his head.

“That don’t sound good.” There were two other men in the van. One was a smallish Caucasian with a receding hairline and a thick mustache. He wore glasses, a white button up shirt, and brown slacks. He had a Glock 30 machine pistol strapped to his waist and he chain-smoked mint-flavored cigarettes as though they were the very air he breathed. The other man was of average build, black-skinned, with shorter hair in a wire-like dreadlock spread. He was wearing an armored Gibson jacket that looked like it had been through hell and back, Gibson jeans, and Ruftread boots. He had a Nova 757 CityHunter in a bulky shoulder rig and it was he who had spoken.

“No, it ain’t frackin’ good.” Lobo opened his eyes and took charge. “All right, we gotta light a fire, boys. Coyote is in trouble an’ says that if we don’t come up with some way to help him out he could get greased.”

“Damn,” the skinny white fellow muttered as he turned back to the console sitting against the wall of the van. “What kind of help does he need?”

“He’s got some high-eyes lookin’ to smoke him.”

“The nearest unit is five-minutes—“

“I know that! I frackin’ told him as much! What else we got Masterson?”

“Um…” The smaller man quickly punched through a few relays on his computer. The screen highlighting every active unit within the city grid. A couple more tags and it’d focused on their area.

“There!” the black man pointed over his shoulder. “That’s an AV, no?”

“We can’t commandeer an AV!”

“Like hell we can’t,” Lobo growled. “We’re frackin’ S.IN., Choombatta. If they got it in the air, we got it on the way. Rip, call it in.” Lobo relayed the coordinates Coyote had given him and the black man snatched up a radio mic from the desk he was leaning against.

“Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, come in, over.”

There was a moment static, then the speaker crackled to life. ”Unit A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha here. Who’s this? Over.”

“This is unit S-I-N-Two-Delta-India-Juliet. We got a ten-one-oh-eight in progress. Can you assist? Over.”

“Affirmative. What’s your twenty? Over.”

Rip gave Lobo a smile as he relayed the coordinates. “Code three, A-V-Three-Alpha-Uniform-Alpha, code three. Do not fire unless ordered, though. Don’t want to run the risk of an unnecessary DB. Just hoping that the sight o’ you will clear the air a bit. Over.”

“Affirmative. Enroute. Over.”

“Well,” Lobo sat back against the seat he occupied and sighed. “Coyote can’t say we don’t frackin’ got his six.”

“You know there’ll be a shit-load of paperwork to fill out when we get back.” Masterson sounded as though they were in all sorts of trouble as he lit up another smoke.

“Yeah,” Lobo grinned. “But you got that covered, right? You can process that trash right from your pretty little box, neh? So we’ll be able to call it a night as soon as Coyote’s free an’ clear.”

The Mean Streets – Upper East Side - 12:55am

Posted on 2007-04-15 at 21:13:20.
Edited on 2007-04-15 at 21:14:38 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Looks smug

I posted.

Posted on 2007-04-15 at 17:20:32.

Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: They're here...

Beneath his gloves Char was sweating. They were about to face off against Imperials once again and that was never a fun experience. Not that the ranger enjoyed combat when someone's life was on the line. He did enjoy a smart sparring session where he could truly test his fencing skills, but this wasn't going to be that.

Looking over to where Maximus stood ready, Char gave him a nod and set his jaw. He'd just heard the sounds of booted feet and it was time to truly test his skills. He moved back a little ways from the door, staying along the wall so as to make it impossible for any shards of wood to hit him should the door be broken in. He rested on the balls of his feet, his legs slightly bent, his muscles loose and ready to spring into action at a thought. His strangely furced blades were held with the left one forward, the right back a bit, ready to slash. He was as ready as he could possibly be.

(OOC: Offensive action - Char will push to keep the enemy at the door making it difficult for them to press their position. He'll fight with the intention to end the fight as soon as possible and that means killing. Defensive action: Char will try to stay back to back, or close by Maximus for the benefit of covering each other's back. As far as he's concerned there is no retreating since that will put Arien in danger.)

Posted on 2007-04-14 at 07:21:25.

Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: And where Spiff was...

There weren't no jutting things.

Posted on 2007-04-11 at 00:24:56.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Let's talk...

(OOC: backpost a bit)

Wyatt had just finished strapping on and was about to give the elephants a farewell pat when his quarters were buzzed. Readjusting his hat so that it rode low on his brow, the captain opened the ladder hatch and climbed up to meet… glossy—Willow. Climbing up the rest of the way, Wyatt twisted and dropped to the catwalk.

"Captain san, when I said everything was shiny, that was more for Asher's state of mind than yours," she started, then stopped to wrinkle her nose at the oiled metallic smell she noted on the Captain.

"I see you've put on your "dress" shirt," she resumed, a touch of irony coloring her tone. "Ready for trouble or looking for it, I'd suggest that Asher remain on the ship with me for a least an hour or so. That burn was bad, but I didn't want to scare him and send him into shock. He's stable, now, but needs real mending if he wants to keep the full use of his arm. Burn scars are the worst to heal, especially around a joint."

Wyatt tilted his head to the side, not completely oblivious to the tone she’d taken with him, but finding it amusing he decided to let it pass.

“If’n you say he should remain, then remain he shall, Doc.” It was simple; it was direct. Tilting his hat to the little woman he gave her a soft half-smile. “I ain’t lookin’ for trouble Willow, just prepared for it. Whoever was on that other ship seemed hell-bent to run us out and paid it no mind when they put their burn to our nose. I’ll not play like that didn’t happen, but I’ll not start no conversatin’ that ain’t peaceable. I promise you that. Just tend to the boy and the rest,” he gave his coat pocket a tap. “I’ll let you know when your skills are needed.”

Wyatt waited to make sure that Willow didn’t have anything to add before continuing on his way with another tip of the hat brim.

(OOC: caught up.)

The trip down the gantry did nothing to prepare Wyatt for the vision he was met with upon opening the doors. The captain was forced to squint into the bright light, a frown creasing his face as his hand rested on the butt of his pistol. Lowering his head a bit, he allowed the brim of his hat to shade his eyes and scanned the area for signs of life—the closed doors on Bay 1 not going unnoticed. They’d beaten the Celestia in.

*Blamm …. Ting thuck*

Most men might have jumped, but not Wyatt. He was practically dead inside, most days it didn’t matter if he was dead on the outside too, and the proximity of the shot mattered little to him other than to stay his hand as his initial impulse had been to skin iron.

“Hold steady, Sam,” Wyatt said under his breath. It wasn’t that he figured Sam for a loose cannon… well, OK, sometimes he figured Sam for a loose cannon.

“WHO THE AI YAH TIEN AH ARE YOU?” a voice shouts out from the homestead.

“AND STAY OUT OF MY MATERS!” another voice calls.

Wyatt let his hand drift from his weapon and his coat to roll back over it as he held his hands out about six inches from his sides.

“Name’s Wyatt Sung, an’ I captain Rocinante here. Picked up some containers from Griffith on Beaumonde. Griffith an’ Royale. We were told that the Lullaby Mine had some ice that needed transport to Regina. Who’s throwing lead our way, so that I might address them that be proper. After all, it ain’t considered polite to keep hollerin’ less you know who yer hollerin’ at.”

(OOC: Influence roll please… trying to influence the situation in our favor.)

Posted on 2007-04-10 at 01:22:09.


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