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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I'll do one better...

Blossom has a map that she's shared with you all. The building across campus that's a rectangle in the upper left corner... that's the dorms. The buildings just to the north of the parking lot are the administration buildings.

Posted on 2017-02-09 at 10:51:23.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Judging from...

The Facebook posts indicate that the transporter really screwed up his insides.

Posted on 2017-02-09 at 10:49:04.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Maybe...

There might be transporter problems. Someone check the logs and see if there have been any failed attempts!

Posted on 2017-02-08 at 13:21:21.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Nope. None.

Sorry, Tann, but nope.

Despite the entertainment that your experience provides, I do wish you better health, Hammer.

Posted on 2017-02-07 at 10:43:27.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Nope.

He stands where he is. They have full body armor, as in head to toe. The combat gear is like into the military's or SWAT. No weakness that Casino can easily make out let alone trust a single bullet to.

Posted on 2017-02-06 at 22:12:51.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I think that's OK.

I'll allow it, Tann. But it'll cost ya one Creative Currency.

As for the map, here you go!

How come I've got no posts? I know it was the Super Bowl and all that, but...

Posted on 2017-02-06 at 09:57:19.
Edited on 2017-02-06 at 09:58:33 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Fantastic!

Now I don't have to blow up the ship.

Posted on 2017-02-06 at 09:55:26.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Correct

That's a good assumption.

Posted on 2017-02-05 at 20:16:31.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: All right! Everyone's caught up.

Now's the time for all y'all to make plans and posts. I will be posting again Monday. By the way, I appreciate the thought put into helping to flesh out the scenes by descriptive posts. So, feel free to elaborate on character thoughts, smells, sights, textures, etc. If there's something amiss, I'll correct it, but we're all telling the story here. So, have at it!

Posted on 2017-02-02 at 10:59:39.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: You've been enlisted now!

Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:47 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

"Mr. Metalhead, I'm not going to offer you payment in traditional currency. I'm going to do better than that. Be a help to me and I'll pay you by allowing you to live. Cause me any problems and I'll make sure you are forced to watch as I kill every last one of these poor, sickly people while they look you in the eye knowing that you're the reason they're dying. Then, I'll slowly push a Q-tip so far into your ear that it'll go through your eardrum and penetrate your brain.

"It's a slow, agonizing way to die, Mr. Meathead, but I'm guessing that you and I are going to be besties and I won't have to employ such nasty methods of retribution. What d'ya say, Mr. Meathead? BFFs?"

"Well, to be honest, I don't give a s*** about any of these people, don't know them, or want to know them. As far as BFF's; sure why not BFF's, and am I Mr. Metalhead or Mr. Meathead? I just want to be sure so I come when you call me." Casino pauses for an answer, but when the completely black clad man makes no indication of clarifying, the large solo continues. "However, first I need to take care of something personal. Then I‘ll be your trusty BFF forever."

Slowly moving, making no sudden movements, Casino looks about for something sharp, hoping for a scalpel or even a letter opener and a plastic bag or a surgical glove. The waiting room is bereft of such items in ready view leaving the gunman in a situation where he either needs to compromise his intent or get creative.

"May I?" the blonde cyborg motions with cuffed hands towards the body of Riggs where it is sprawled amidst overturned chairs. "Those two cops took some things of mine and I want them back after this is done."

"Slowly," the incursion leader acknowledges.

Moving once more—again slowly—well aware of the gun pointed at his back, the large solo makes his way to the body of Riggs. Kneeling beside him, he pauses to look at the cop one last time no emotion written on his hard features before he pats the officer's pockets down to first retrieve the key for the handcuffs.

Concussion washes over head and shoulders followed immediately by the strenuous sound of the plastic charge exploding at the nurse's station. His attention drawn momentarily from the task at hand, Casino looks up in time to see smoke clearing and the remainder of the door dangling from a single bent and distorted hinge at the top of the blackened and battered frame. Returning to his pat down, the gun for hire finds the key he's looking for and proceeds to unlock the cuffs, grateful that his Pain Editor is once again in operation. Looking back at the leader of the Soil LIberation Group, the blonde man indicates the small folded knife at Riggs' belt.

"I said no weapons," the masked man remarks off-handedly.

"Just need to insure I can collect my belongings after all this is over," Casino replies flatly. "I won't keep it."

The terrorist is silent for a moment in consideration before motioning that the leather wearing brute can go about what he's intending. Unclipping the knife, Casino is sure to move with deliberate intent so as not to give those watching him any reason to open fire. The blade clicks into place with ease and Riggs' right thumb is taken in hand. Steeling himself for the gruesome task, Casino places the knife to the knuckle and uses all of his considerable strength to press the blade through the flesh, bone, and tendons. Blood flows but doesn't spurt, a sure sign that Riggs' heart has stopped beating and within a span of a number of seconds the grim solo has removed the thumb.

Placing the severed digit in the front right pocket of his black duster, he moves up the body to Riggs' face and without hesitation cuts the right eyeball from the dead man's skull. This is a little squishier and a lot less sturdy. Adding it to the same pocket, Casino silently hopes that the eyeball doesn't get pressed and burst as he rises to his full six foot two inches in height and turns to the Soil's leader.

"Ok, now I'm all yours boss."

"Now," the man's voice is filled with raucous disbelief. "That was some messed up s***, Mr. Metalhead!" He turns his masked features to the woman soldier standing nearby. "That was some messed up s***, wasn't it?" She nods, her covered face and eyes never turning from Casino.

Looking back at his newly acquired mercenary, the leader of the SLG continues, "Of course, now you need to drop that toothpick."

(OOC: Assuming Casino complies and drops the knife.)

"Good," the man says cheerfully. "It seems like we really are gonna be BFFs."

Another of the Liberation group approaches from the nurse's station and leans in to whisper something to the leader. Down past the conversation and the huddled group of hostages, Casino witnesses the gathering of squad cars with lights flashing in the ambulance loading zone.

"Mr. Metalhead," the leader directs his attention towards Casino once again. "Pick up Officer Pirate's handgun by the barrel and pop the clip. Empty the rounds into your left hand and set them on the chair in front of you. That'll leave one round in the chamber. You can put the clip back in and that'll be your weapon for the time being. We're going on a little walk, you and I, and I think you might need to shoot something."

Posted on 2017-02-02 at 10:57:47.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Biometric

Fingerprint and eye scan combo. Good questions.

Posted on 2017-01-31 at 09:59:09.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Correct.

It should indeed. There's a safe in the trunk of the squad car within which they use biometric scanners to secure confiscated materials.

Posted on 2017-01-30 at 18:00:44.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Time to plan... Will post for Tann when he posts.

West 43875 St. 52 High | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 3:30 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)


Bars block any further progress. With a sniff containing perhaps a little bit of frustration and a whole lot of horrid aroma, Vegas gently lowers himself back down the water while turning his head to avoid the splash of the water across his arms from hitting him in the face as much as possible.

"There's a series of bars across the opening," he informs everyone in a voice that carries just over the sound of the descending rush of rainwater.

Fixer, having already noted Vegas's hesitation as he reached the top of the ladder, makes some mental commands to activate the bracer on his right forearm as his left hand moves to unzip the sleeve all the way to his elbow. A small saw springs out and begins a lazy spin as it was not yet needed to cut into anything. The small whine is its own distinct noise, but the techie hopes that perhaps the sound of the storm will dampen it out.

"Let me up, I can check to see if it is hardwired for security, and cut through it if not," Fixer speaks up in a firm tone for maybe the first time since joining the group. This is one problem he can get them through.

"I'll watch our backs while you figure out a way past the grate." Ghlahn shifts the position of his shouldered rifle as he turns and begins to make his way back the way they had come, his Colt AMT Model 2000 in hand.

Stepping through the path that the rest of the group opens for him, Fixer grips the cold ladder rungs and attempts to ignore the wash of icy water over his forearms as he climbs. Reaching the lip of the runoff, he grips the uppermost bar tightly with his left hand and mentally activates the techscanner in his right forearm bracer, moving his arm about the space in front of him and reviewing the readings in his optics viewscreen.

Feeling confident in his scan, the techie deactivates techscanner and sets the saw blade in motion. Sparks fly and the sound of grinding metal rolls back offensively into the tunnel. Occasionally, Fixer glances up from his work to scan the yard stretching out before him. Accelerated heart rate and the jarring of the saw cutting away adds sweat to the rainwater coursing over his body. One wrong turn of luck and this gig is fried.

One bar cut through at the top and still no apparent indication that they'd been discovered. There aren't any lights on in the building directly across from them—a gym from all appearances. No lights on in the structure adjacent to it either. The one further away and between the two did have an exterior light on somewhere about it, somewhere not within Fixer's line of sight, but it isn't bright enough to spill over into the yard. The techie proceeds with the lower section of the first bar, towards the base as close as he can get it.

The torch would have cut quicker, but the sparks from the saw are alarming enough. A highly heated source of light would have spilled its soul across the courtyard and played ghostly images dancing in pagan delight while it did so. No. This is the best solution. Time-consuming, but the best nonetheless.

On to the second bar, the first having dropped away into the mud just outside the mouth of the drainage duct. The first had taken him close to four minutes to cut through. He had another four to go.

Below, Blossom displays the only map she can find of the schoolyard to the others. "We're here," she indicates the point on the map and then points clear across campus to a large building off in its own corner. "According to the directory, that's the dorms. And this," she indicates the clumped together group of buildings in the middle of the map, specifically the bottom corner nearest the roundabout. "That's the administration building. That's where we'll need to go to get jacked in."

"Can you pull up a map of the admin building itself, doll?" Vagas asks while looking down at the holographic map.

"Negative, big daddy," the netrunner remarks. "Nothing like that available that I can see. Would need to hack into the city building records to get something like that, and that means a trip downtown."

The top of the second bar is cut through and Fixer pauses in part to allow the vibration through his arm to still and in part to see if there's been any indication that he's been spotted.

"What're these buildings?" Echo asks and points to the structures directly in front of their infiltration point.

"The sports center, classes, and showers," Blossom replies.

Seeing no sign of life in the rain-soaked compound, Fixer begins to cut through the bottom of the second bar.

"Do teachers live on campus?" the lithe nomad woman asks.

"Some," the netrunner nods, her optic viewscreen displaying the brochure site for parents. "It states that there's always a teacher presence even during off-hours and holidays."

"They'd be in the dorms," Vegas adds knowingly followed by a nod from Echo.

"So," the little Asian woman looks up at the others with a smile and water studded, heart-shaped sunglasses. "What's the plan?"

Posted on 2017-01-30 at 10:17:16.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Tann

On my Combat Gauntlet Bracer I'm pretty sure I don't have the listed weapons but do I have the grappling hook? - No additional weapons, but you do have the gear. So, yes. You have the grapple.

On my Bounty Bracer do I have all the listed items, Tracking Device, Contact Taser, Gas Sprayer? And if so can we say sleeping gas in the gas sprayer? - You have the listed items, but only have two gas pellets and the one in your pocket was confiscated when the police searched you leaving only the one in the chamber of your bracer. And remember, these blokes have combat masks, the likes of which probably have gas masks inserts.

Also can't find the write up for the Spawnblade in the books is that like a Wolverine thing hidden in my skin or was it part of the gear I gave to Fixer? - Spawnblade would have been confiscated as well. I don't recall it being amongst the gear you handed over before being arrested. It's a combat knife with a chainsaw blade.

Now that the cuffs are off is my Neural net up and running once more including my Pain Editor, Boostmaster, and my Ranged optics and such? - Yes. Your cyber is working again.

Excellent posts, y'all.

I have posted. Here's the map Blossom pulled up:

Posted on 2017-01-30 at 09:23:56.
Edited on 2017-01-30 at 10:19:32 by Bromern Sal

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: The ship will come back to life...

Meanwhile, I gave you something to chew on Boo. Make it as interesting as you'd like, or a non-event, your choice.

Posted on 2017-01-30 at 09:15:20.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty
Subject: Oversight... or is it?

Stardate 2365.02.09 (Tuesday - 42137.6)
USS Peregrine; Deck 4 - Sickbay - 14:30

Crewman Toriak raises his eyebrows in response to the absence of data he's just come across. Scrolling through the entries on the personnel file once more just to be certain, he again raises his eyebrows as his discovery is confirmed. Keyed in commands keep the work he's doing from interrupting the much needed rest of Sickbay's patient, PO Rogers. The chemist's condition isn't the Vulcan's concern, however, just a reason for not using voice commands to complete his queries. In this regard, Toriak is a reservist—one whom is called in should no other medical personnel be available. No. This hour finds the records specialist seeking to solve the riddle of Chief Dana Cook's missing physical. After all, the strict, by-the-book, myrmidon couldn't have possibly missed her last mandated check-up. That would be illogical.

Drawing up another screen with a couple of button selections, Toriak submits a level three diagnostics on the database. Rolling back on his heels, he watches intently as the system displays multiple lines of data scrolling past at breakneck speeds. Parameters would limit the search to specific entries related to Cook and would denote any corruption or tampering at a high level. Each subsequent diagnostics would reveal deeper investigation should something come up, but the level three should be sufficient to determine if the entry had just been misplaced—logged under another person's file—or if it had been deleted. Tampering with records is a severe code violation and would require Crewman Toriak to report the situation directly to Dr. Moore. The Vulcan medical crewman found the head nurse to be very capable in her duties and decided that should such a situation arise the chances of Dana Cook being culpable are slim to none. Four point three five seven percent, to be exact. As such, he doesn't believe that reporting an occurrence of tampering would directly affect her.

Level 3 Diagnostics complete. Results: Database integrity secure. No Data tampering or loss detected.

For the third time in the short period since he discovered the error, Crewman Toriak raised his eyebrows. Looking up from the screen, he scans the semi-circular room but Dana is no where to be seen. Such a small thing for the woman to overlook, Toriak tilts his head to the side a bit and pulls up the inner-ship communication system. Keying in a couple of commands he activates the direct line to Cook's communicator.

"Chief Cook," he intones. "Crewman Toriak. It would appear that you have not completed your mandatory medical examination for this latest period. Would you like for me to schedule it?"

Posted on 2017-01-30 at 09:14:16.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Awesome!

Looking forward to it.

Everyone else want to chime in? Discussion, plans, or just moving forward with individual posts? I post again on Monday, first thing.

Posted on 2017-01-27 at 22:56:47.

Topic: impulse exams
Subject: Tech.

Can't live without it... well, you can, but the alternative is much better.

Try switching your notes to Google Drive. Don't have to worry about paper and you can still switch around on which computers you are wanting to use.

Posted on 2017-01-27 at 22:50:16.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Naw... not dead, just sleeping!

Games do this around the first of the year. People get really busy with RL and then towards mid- to end of February. I've seen Eol on Facebook a lot. I'm going to post this weekend and see if I can't drum up some more action. We must press on!

Posted on 2017-01-27 at 22:48:34.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Answer

Either one of them could work. The torch would be faster and quieter, but bright and like a beacon unless somehow blocked from view, and the saw would be slower and noisier.

Posted on 2017-01-24 at 12:20:13.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Story

It's all about the storyline, my friend.

Posted on 2017-01-23 at 22:50:48.

Topic: Star Trek: the Edge of Duty Q&A
Subject: Mo too!

I want Eol and Olan to post at the very least. Would be nice... I have used up all of my posting time today on my CyberPunk game, but I'll work on a post to engage others regardless of our fearless leaders' availability as soon as I can. Don't want to see the game die.

Posted on 2017-01-23 at 11:45:41.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I have posted.

We've now moved the game forward. I took control of Bloodbank and Vegas due to the players being very busy and unable to post. Hammer provided me with the instructions for how Vegas would proceed.

If I progressed the story in ways that your characters wouldn't have chosen (in other words, if the plan was for Ghlahn and Fixer to stay up in the nest while everyone else went in), we can adjust, but I seem to remember that everyone had decided it'd be nice to have a techie with them during their infiltration.

I will post again next Monday morning. Feel free to ask questions, if you need your character sheet access granted again just ask, or plan your next actions together here and then post the conversation, etc. in-game. All skill check rolls were sent to you via the RDINN's dice roller app.

Posted on 2017-01-23 at 11:43:20.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: A Team Up? | Reunited | Barred

Night City Regional General Hospital, Emergency Room | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 2:46 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

And just like that it was over, Riggs and Murtaugh are dead in front of him. As Casino shook his head in wonder a new choice was brought before him. The solo watched the armed and masked leader approached him.

"Well," the leader says through his mask with a cheerful demeanor. "That's the end of the heroes. Now, what do do about the metalhead, What about it, Metalhead? Wanna talk? Wanna be a hero? Those cops weren't no friend of yours. Question is, are you gonna get flatlined tonight, or uncuffed?"

Looking up at the masked leader Casino gave nothing away in his eyes or gestures. Holding his wrists up his eyes never left the leader's masked face.

"Well, you're right. The cops were not my friends and yeah, I'd rather be un-cuffed. As for being a hero, well that's not my style. Heroes get dead, I get paid."

"To the victor go the spoils!" Keeping his submachine gun leveled on the large blonde man before him, the leader of the incursion tilts his head in the direction of Riggs' inert body and says, "Move slowly, choomba. Collect the key and set yourself free, but make no move towards any weapon. You gotta earn that trust."

(OOC: Assuming Casino follows the instructions given.)

Raising his voice so that he can better be heard across the room, the man bellows, "We are the Soil Liberation Group, and we're here to make a statement. All of you unfortunate souls are part of this statement, and you can make it through this without any holes in your body, or you can draw the Ace of Spades in your little gamble. Frankly, we don't want to hurt anyone but if you force our hand, we will play for keeps."

Still keeping the weapon pointed at Casino, he uses his left hand to motion one of his people forward. Those others in the emergency room remains deathly still as though corpses already except for the roaming nurse bots. "You are demonstrating a fever of one hundred and two degrees fahrenheit. Would you like some acetaminophen?" These people are unconcerned with the large, boxy, attendants, however and now the one that was set in motion has stepped up to the nurse's station.

The booth is now empty as the nurse who had been behind the bulletproof glass has vacated further into the hospital for her own safety. Stopping at the door, the soldier in motion retrieves a small block of what appears to be plastic explosives from his satchel. Affixing the block of orange material to the door adjacent to the handle, he proceeds to wire it.

"What's your name, Metalhead?" the leader of the Soil Liberation Group demands of Casino.

(OOC: Assuming a name is given.)

"I doubt that's your real name," the man's voice resonates with amusement. "So, I'm going to call you Mr. Metalhead seeing how I respect you so much.

"Mr. Metalhead, I'm not going to offer you payment in traditional currency. I'm going to do better than that. Be a help to me and I'll pay you by allowing you to live. Cause me any problems and I'll make sure you are forced to watch as I kill every last one of these poor, sickly people while they look you in the eye knowing that you're the reason they're dying. Then, I'll slowly push a Q-tip so far into your ear that it'll go through your eardrum and penetrate your brain.

"It's a slow, agonizing way to die, Mr. Meathead, but I'm guessing that you and I are going to be besties and I won't have to employ such nasty methods of retribution. What d'ya say, Mr. Meathead? BFFs?"


West 43875 St. 52 High | Night City Integrate | High City | UrbanZone - Day 2 (Saturday), 3:20 AM PST
Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)


Echo looks up at the camera, judges the height, turns to Blossom with a mischievous grin and asks, "You have any of that bubblegum you like to chew left, Chika? I have an idea..."

Blossom blinks through her large heart-shaped sunglasses and pulls the sucker from her mouth to hold it up apologetically. "Just lollies for me, kawaī on'nanoko. No gum. All that chawing and smacking noise is just gross."

Realization dawns on the wardriver as she follows the quick, disappointed glance that the beautiful nomad gives the camera. Providing that Blossom has guessed correctly, Echo's plan was to use the gum to block the camera. It's a solid plan and would be an excellent solution had they any gum. Smiling, the small Asian woman rocks forward on the balls of her booted feet and gives the other woman a friendly chuck on the left shoulder.

"It's all good, Ace Kool," she bubbles. "Slick idea but the virus I sent into the Sys should gum it up, unless we're extremely unlucky."

"I've SpraySkin® we could spray over the lens," Bloodbank suggests as he catches onto the idea. "Just to be safe." He feels a sense of necessity to cover the video camera despite Blossom's assurances. He hadn't donned his cracked skull styled battle mask until after the camera had been pointed out and can't shake that his face will be available for police to associate with any crime in the area.

"Better safe than sorry," Vegas agrees. "Sorry, doll," he adds, looking at Blossom. "But it pays to always have a contingency." The clone of Old Blue Eyes looks to Echo and says, "Work your magic, Baby."

Bloodbank fishes the can of SpraySkin® from his bivvy bag and hands it over to the leather clad nomad. Accepting the aluminum spray can, she looks at Bloodbank and says, "Care to give a short girl a lift, Choomba?", indicating the camera above their heads.

"Not at all," the medtech replies and drops his bag to the wet cement while stepping forward and clasping his together before him and crouching just a bit.

Echo places her left boot in his hands and the wraps her right hand up around the back of his head, pulling herself up. She can feel the side of his face and head pressed momentarily into her stomach against her corset but chooses to ignore the closeness and hoists herself around the medic's heads to straddle the man's shoulders. Together, they approach closer to the wall and Echo is able to easily reach the camera with the can. Hissing foam erupts from the canister's nozzle and covers the camera lens quickly drying into a fleshy-looking patch.

Bloodbank steps back and then drops to a crouch allowing the small woman to slide from his shoulders with ease. Knee-high riding boots firmly back on the pavement, Echo turns to everyone and triumphantly says, "Now we won't get seen going in. Let's just hope our mayhem hurries. No tellin' how well they watch these cameras."

Fixer could only watch on as Ghlahn tumbled over the railing and continued along the thin ledge and around the corner. Following the man would be difficult for Fixer, but not impossible, with a good deal of luck. The bit of wind and wet, slippery handhold turned him off of the idea, though. Even with his grappling line as an anchor, nothing said that the material of the building would even hold up and keep Fixer from falling; most likely plummeting to what could be his death. This was not his area of expertise. He hated being a liability and not being able to show his worth on a job. So far, he was doing a bang up job. He turned his eyes to the streets around him and kept peering in the windows. He would have to keep overwatch from here.

Silently cursing his luck at not having ammo perfectly suited to the task, Ghlahn takes aim at his target. "I said no killing, never said no hurting." Settling his sights on the driver, he fired off two quick rounds. Bullets to each shoulder should cause the driver to crash, hopefully into another vehicle. that should cause a distraction. Not waiting to see the outcome he moved to find a target coming from the other direction. Not nearly as picky now, anything was fair game.

The soles of his boots makes a slight clang as he quickly crosses to the other side of the platform. Raising the scope to his eye he scans the immediate line of vehicles and feels his heart rate increase as he isn't able to see anything remotely suitable. Then, a smaller sedan with an already cracked windshield pulls into the next lane around a larger autonomous cargo truck. Sighting the driver's shoulders again, just like before, M'haru Ghlahn squeezes off two more rounds in quick succession.

Thunder crashes overhead. No. That was gunfire, Blossom realizes and reflexively looks up. Two shots. Ghlahn. Has to be Ghlahn. Looking to the right she can't see any sign of the results despite how much she strains her eyes.

Bloodbank also registers the sound of gunfire from above and instinctively looks to the right, down the street, only his right is Blossom's left. There, with his enhanced eyesight, he sees an old van barely perceptible through the rest of the traffic swerve to the left into oncoming traffic where it is almost instantly struck by a small CityCar. Most of the rest of the accident is lost to the medtech as additional vehicles join in the chaos.

Vegas witnesses the mess down the street unfold with a small sense of satisfaction. Ghlahn had done his job. Echo, too, has the good fortune to look in the correct direction at the gunfire and see the commotion. However, the traffic in their immediate vicinity is still in motion and Vegas says, "Hold up." to keep everyone in place.

Two more reports bounce off of the highrise canyon walls drawing the eyes of the crew to the other direction. Blossom, realizing she had looked the wrong way once Vegas spoke, has now corrected herself and is looking the opposite direction of everyone else. Everyone else, however, notices that luck is indeed on their side as a sedan swerves into oncoming traffic head-on into another two-door sedan. The faint sounds of screeching tires on the wet pavement reaches the edgerunner's collective ears.

"Wait for it," Vegas intones again and all eyes turn back to the traffic in their immediate vicinity, waiting for it to clear up and grant them safe passage to the manhole.

(OOC: Assuming Ghlahn will make haste to return to the group,)

Shouldering his rifle, Ghlahn takes a moment to appreciate his work, but just a moment. Despite the cool nature of the framework and the dampness that the rain brings with it, the sniper is able to hand-over-hand his way back to the ledge without slipping. It would have been so much easier if he'd have had access to the gangway, but that blasted gate would have required someone with better skills than he had at breaking and entering to bypass. Someone like Fixer, perhaps. Unfortunately, sometimes the terrain prohibited the easiest course.

Shuffling along the ledge, he rounds the corner and resolves the remaining distance to the fire escape without incident. Fixer waits for him there and now that the two have joined back up, they progress back down the metal stairs with haste. Dismounting the hanging ladder of they had previously ascended is much easier than getting up it, and the two pause only long enough to determine that the alley is still free from anything they need to be concerned with. Splashing down the alleyway, the pair quickly make the street and slow to an inconspicuous walk.

Traffic is thinning as the work performed by the enhanced sniper disrupts its usual flow. When Ghlahn and Fixer are approximately half-way across the distance to the awning, they see the rest of their groups run from the front of the security door store to the middle of the street.

"Go!" Vegas orders after the last vehicle passes opening the street to them.

Reaching the manhole cover, Blossom immediately drops down and visually takes in the surface of the cover searching for any sign of exterior security measures. Vegas stands over the crouching Asian, his Mark II in hand ready to use if necessary, Bloodbank to his left looking across the street and nervously eyeing the windows of the upper floors. Echo, too, is standing guard waiting on the wardriver to do her thing.

"I don't see any security," Blossom informs them. Then, reaching down with her left arm, she feels the bracer respond to her mental command and slips her fingers in the small hole at the side of the heavy metal cover. Flinging it aside as though it didn't weigh nearly fifty pounds, she peers down the revealed opening and frowns at the odor that rises with the warm steam washing over her pretty face. There, amidst the vaporous water molecules, she spots the cross-work hatching of a laser security grid.

"There you are," she mumbles, immediately getting to work on the keyboard she'd not yet closed.

Each integrate operates its own wireless network. This system runs every autonomous and remote system that the city maintains (usually through contracts with companies rather than their own payroll). The security for the sewers is not the highest priority system, but it isn't the lowest either. Trash compacting systems would fall into that category. Blossom's hope is that she can isolate the wifi signal for the security grid and then pinpoint the exact module controlling this laser grid.

Bright brown eyes flit about as the results of her netrunning play out across her optic viewscreen unseen to the others. The fingers of her right hand dance about the keyboard splayed out from the bracer on her left, using shortkeys to deliver commands. Time slows for her and what seems like an eternity of probes, deflections, rerouting of small data bots, and quickly devised lines of code, she smiles around the stem of her lollipop. Found ya, but her thoughts are already on to the next task: breaking into the module.

Codewall, she recognizes the module security. A mental command streamed through her neural link activates the I-FACING routine and for a brief moment it feels to her as though she's falling. Effects of dropping one's consciousness into the Net are short-felt for an experienced netrunner and within moments, her Anime Schoolgirl Avatar is what she has become. Standing before a glowing wall of scrolling 1's and 0's that stretches in every direction for as far as the eye could see.

"Hai-ya!" the avatar exclaims with wide, flickering eyes as her tiny hands weave in front of her in an intricate, magical pattern before extending both hands directly at the wall. A stream of white light flies from the animated hands and the avatar responds by blowing it's ponytailed, purple hair back and rippling the white button up and plaid skirt as though being hit by wind from the effects of the stream.

White light strikes the wall and immediately begins to deconstruct it. Ones and zeroes fly apart and the hole widens to a point where the avatar can press through. Now, inside the wall, Blossom witnesses various strings of commands like vines hanging from the perpetual blackness of the overhead void. Outside of the Net, Blossom's body has gone limp, kneeling at the edge of the manhole, her hands lying still in her lap while the holo keyboard brightly splays across her bare thigh. To all of her companions, she looks unconscious, her chin resting on her collarbones, wet hair dangling and clinging to her face.

The avatar drops her hands to his thin hips and tilts her head back as she flies forward, large brown eyes scanning the vines of code. Stopping before one in particular, Blossom exclaims, "YÅ«reka!" and reaches out to touch it with tiny hands. The green code vine immediately turns red and the flow of code stops its motion.

Blossom's limp body immediately regains rigidity and she springs up while simultaneously deactivating her keyboard. "The laser grid has been deactivated," she informs everyone with a happy declaration.

"What should we expect down there?" Vegas asks while his intense blue eyes drift across the street to the approaching Ghlahn and Fixer.

"Beats me," Blossom replies. "But it smells like sh*t, so I'm guessing there's sh*t."

Her reply earns the netrunner an incredulous expression from the dapper solo. "All right, I'm first down. Ghlahn," the pair splashes up just in time to receive instruction. "You've got our six."

That being said, the suited man holsters his chrome plated, pearl handled Mark II beneath his jacket and scrambles onto the ladder.

Blossom wasn't wrong. Sickly sweet odors of feces and decay sweep up and over the Flein designer skin mask, barely reduced through the filters as he descends the five or six meters into the black depths. Wishing he had low-lite vision splices, the solo fishes his pocket flashlight from top-coat pocket as well as his designer Mark II. Holding the flashlight so that he can rest his right hand over the rist of his left and have it shine out before him, the solo steps down the tight, round tunnel to allow for the others to join him. The water he finds himself standing in is flowing just below the height of his Flien Wingtip boots, wetting the bottom of his suitpants and threatening to spill over to his stockings. The solo can only imagine what the cleaning bill will be.

"Clear," he calls back up the ladder after painting the tunnel in both directions with his light and seeing only more tunnel, water, garbage, and perhaps a couple of dead rats.

Blossom is next down the ladder, her long, black trench coat swaying behind her as she descends. Dropping into the soup, she wipes her gloved hands in her exposed belly in disgust, apparently not at all concerned that she'd just muddied her flat, tattooed stomach. She, too, produces a pocket flashlight and rolls the beam about her to get an idea of their surroundings.

Bloodbank follows, the smell of the steaming much-filled tunnel slipping under his battle mask and drawing a gagging cough from his lips. He steps away from the ladder and draws his .44 at the same time as his own light.

Fixer is hot on his heels, his bag dangling from his shoulders. Unlike the others, he needs no flashlight. His low-lite vision immediately kicks in and the grays and blues of the effect deliver to his eyes a gloomy, dirty path leading off parallel to the street. The techie's breathing mask eliminates the majority of the odors, but not fully. The smell is quite unpleasant.

Echo and lastly, Ghlahn, descend into the steamy murk. For Echo, the adaptive nano her body is imbued with makes it unnecessary for her to wear an air filter, but it does not protect her from the smell and the sticky feeling of grotesque grime that suddenly clings to her, but a flashlight, she does need and produces after briefly searching through her bag. M'haru Ghlahn is also immediately attacked by the stench, but simply switches off his olfactory sensors with a mental command to compensate. Once planted in the tunnel, his infrared sight kicks on.

"All right, doll," Vegas says with an edge to his voice while wishing his partner was there to help watch his back. "Which way?"

Having already activated her optic view screen vision of the sewer tunnel map, Blossom rolls the sucker in her mouth and points quietly to the left. Without further adieu, the team pushes through the thick air and down the length of the tube.

Three additional times, Blossom gives them directions before they arrive at another access ladder with a steady stream of water pouring down it. Above, approximately six meters, the waterfall cascades over the edge of a ledge from which some yellowish light penetrates the darkness.

"Wait here," Vegas orders, turning off his flashlight and dropping it back into his overcoat pocket. Holstering his weapon, the dapper solo frowns at the falling water and then steels himself for the wet climb up the ladder.

The ledge is strewn with debris. Drenched paper, sacks, even some leaves and branches, are all pressed against a series of metal bars that stretch across the mouth of a drainage pipe barring their way into the school's compound. Beyond the bars, with water rushing over his arms and soaking his topcoat and suit even further, Vegas scans what's visible of the campus for signs of activity.

There's a stretch of grounds approximately thirty meters wide between the grate and the first building. The brick and steel structure is easily identified as a stadium of sorts, smaller than professional teams, but still large enough to handle the types of sports these spoiled kids participate in. To the right of that building, Vegas can see a portion of another tucked between the stadium and what looks like a similar architectural design to the stadium's yet much smaller neighbor. That is multi-storied with a brick academic style that makes the Frank Sinatra look alike think of classrooms. He can't see to the right or left too far, but what he can see of the available compound is empty of traffic. A quick, visual inspection of the bars doesn't show any sign of a gate. The entire bar structure is firmly bolted to the cement alcove.

Posted on 2017-01-23 at 11:39:10.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Change of plans...

I will be posting Monday morning. Fair warning.

Posted on 2017-01-21 at 13:19:47.


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