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Shadowrun (IC)
Rchanen
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
Dallas-Forth Worth Megaplex
Sunny. 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Winds from SSE at 15 miles per hour.
Yeah, right, like that describes it. You're out at 8:50 AM in the morning on one of the nicest days DFW has seen in a long, long time. The wind has blown most of the persistent smog out of the city and out into the country. And while it may stink for those downwind, right now a fresh-almost salty-breeze is bringing the temperature down to just about perfect. And instead of relaxing or picking up a nice chica, where are you? Working.
Because you gotta bring in the nuyen. So you are waiting in the driveway of a house that looks like it was designed by Thomas Jefferson, with a security system that looks like it was designed by a paranoid spider. The house is huge, quite literally large enough to get lost in. 30 rooms per floor. 3 Floors. And for a Mr. Todd Hemerson, who has no nuclear family, uses 5 of the rooms, and spends most of his time at work, doing Market Research.
But someone's threatened the guy and that's where they made a mistake. Cause Hemerson hired you. And when people threaten other people, you protect them. And when the other people try to hurt your clients you stop the other people. Dead (or Alive, depending on client instructions or personal motivations).
So here's the clients car, a nice solid black Mitsubishi Nightsky XL, and here's you. First day of work. Whatta drag, but thank God the pay for this dull baby sitting assignment is worth it.
Sunny. 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Winds from SSE at 15 miles per hour.
Yeah, right, like that describes it. You're out at 8:50 AM in the morning on one of the nicest days DFW has seen in a long, long time. The wind has blown most of the persistent smog out of the city and out into the country. And while it may stink for those downwind, right now a fresh-almost salty-breeze is bringing the temperature down to just about perfect. And instead of relaxing or picking up a nice chica, where are you? Working.
Because you gotta bring in the nuyen. So you are waiting in the driveway of a house that looks like it was designed by Thomas Jefferson, with a security system that looks like it was designed by a paranoid spider. The house is huge, quite literally large enough to get lost in. 30 rooms per floor. 3 Floors. And for a Mr. Todd Hemerson, who has no nuclear family, uses 5 of the rooms, and spends most of his time at work, doing Market Research.
But someone's threatened the guy and that's where they made a mistake. Cause Hemerson hired you. And when people threaten other people, you protect them. And when the other people try to hurt your clients you stop the other people. Dead (or Alive, depending on client instructions or personal motivations).
So here's the clients car, a nice solid black Mitsubishi Nightsky XL, and here's you. First day of work. Whatta drag, but thank God the pay for this dull baby sitting assignment is worth it.
Rchanen on
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I look past the gates, half because I'm waiting on the man with my nuyen, half because I've always loved Texas. How can you not love somewhere this hot... this dry. Good things can happen when it's this dry out.
I run through a mental checklist. Alpha, on my back. Predator, hidden in it's holster on my coat. In my backpack, plenty of ammo, my medkit, some rope, and a couple torches. My commlink and Magesight Goggles are both equipped. I give a long glance to my Bulldog parked in the driveway. It's too bad I had to leave my chainsaw and those delicous explosives in there. I probably wouldn't have used them, but it does pain me to be apart from them.
I whistle softly, closing my eyes and mindlessly playing with my foci. As I feel the contours of the seven dice and two ancient silver coins that are chained together on my wrist, I can't help but notice just how nice it is again. Maybe there'll be a chance to sneak away, an empty suit like this can't require that attention.
As our client pulls into the driveway, I look at the other mercs my old pal Cecil Stosen hooked me up with. It's hard to tell at this point if any of them are any good, but I suppose they wouldn't have been in this buisness for long if they weren't. I head over to the car and get in.
A tall man, easily identified as an elf, despite his dark hair being just long enough to cover his ears, looks back at me. A quick glance reveals the absence of any cybernetics on his person, though he seems no worse for wear, being a rather muscular person.
Brushing an invisible piece of lint off the sleeve of one of my finer business suits, I step out and place a pair of vintage Raybans on. Walking over to the pasenger side of the car I give everyone a look-over, expressionless. Interesting group of people, I might not have to do this all on my own after all, some of them actually look competent.
I pull out one of the two duffel bags from the passenger seat, set it down and begin checking the contents.
Walter MA-2100, check.
Tripod, check.
EX-exposive Walter rounds, check.
Ruger Super Warhawk, check.
Warhawk ammo, check.
Chameleon suit, check.
Thermographic goggles, check.
Gecko tape gloves, check.
Comlink, check.
Everything looks to be in order. With any luck I wont even need this, but I suppose I should take the essentials incase complications should arise.
Closing the passenger side door and locking her up, I pick up the duffel bag and head towards the Nightsky. After loading my bag into the limo I turn around and introduce myself as Jack Merinar, and extend a scarred hand towards the nearest person.
(edited in limo for van, mistook what the Nightsky XL was)
Jordan of Elienor, Human Shaman
As the cruiser makes it's way down the street the dwarf places a fedora upon his balding head. He does a careful 360 scan of the area giving each of the you a careful once over. He pauses for a moment and repeats this process, again doing a complete 360.
Nodding, apparently satisfied, he smooths down his trench coat and walks up to the the limo.
"Morning, sorry I'm a little late. A friend wanted me to provide some cover. Name's Luc, so how are we handling this?"
"Hey," I pause, twitching a bit. "I, uhm, I'm Damien. I was thinking maybe we could shoot people who try to shoot our boss." Fumbling nervously with my foci, I mumble "Maybe a team could ride with him while the other tails. I have a van we could use, if you don't mind sitting next to explosives."
Rather abruptly, I cut off my sentence and stare pointedly at the Walter. It's a nice gun. I like nice guns.
As the van stops, you see it's occupant step out. He is wearing a large coat over some very plain clothes, he seems to look Amerind, though his skin seems somewhat light for that.
He quickly looks around to the others with an odd smirk. "Is this everyone?"
As the odd van pulls up I give it a look over. Interesting choice of vehicle, maybe I was wrong in assuming all these people were competent.
"I think we're waiting on one more."
(edited in limo for van, mistook what the Nightsky XL was)
Jordan of Elienor, Human Shaman
Todd Hemerson, tall and lanky steps out of the front doors of his mansion. He's thin and pasty. The kind of thin you get by not eating, and judging by his complexion, not eating due to working and being connected to AR rather than the kind of thin you get due to working out. His arms almost suggest muscle tone and he does own a well-stocked home gym inside the house, but whether he himself uses it, is another question.
He walks forward uncertainly and shakes your hands. "Damien, Marcus, Jack, Luc. Thank you all for taking the job. Its a pleasure. It's almost time to leave. So I hope the other members of the team come quickly."
Despite his air of good cheer. There's something off about this guy. Like its forced (perception roll to get a better clue of his mental state. Spells might work as well, but if finds out you've been mucking with his mind, being fired might be the least of your worries).
"So sorry Mr. Hemerson. Galack, pleased to meet you. Late from a meeting with a contact, you understand. Wanted to be here more, of course. Always very good to get a bit of honest work."
Galack sets down his briefcase and surveys his partners, and gives a broad smile that he clearly intends to be friendly, but is nevertheless quietly unsettling.
Smiling wryly the dwarf steps back from the group and his eyes unfocus upon the scene in front of him as he mumbles his reponse to the phone call...
..and shifts his perception to the realm of spirit. He quickly sorts through the auras in front of him. Not sparing a glance at Humpty and Dumpty, astral echoes of his own will and barely pausing over Sydney, the incarnation of Storm. He focuses past his teammates, featuring a surprising number of brightly colored awakened auras and focuses upon the Client...
Jordan of Elienor, Human Shaman
He considered something for a moment. "In my opinion, if it's worth anything, is that we keep our VIP-.." He glanced over to Hemerson. "No offense meant, of course. But we keep him inside the limo, along with all but two of us."
Marcus looked between the different vehicles. "The other two, should get into a second vehicle, and act as a tail, staying a little ways off." He pondered again, producing a rather weathered looking commlink and punching in a few commands. "Now, it might be a good idea to plan our routes in advance, just to be safe."
"If you don't mind, of course."
Like a lot."
"I'll take my bike if you dont mind... I'd have a bit of trouble fitting in the limo in any case. I can either follow behind or meet you there, its up to you.
Galack surveys all his companions, keeping special watch on the short balding man. Trolls may not be the brightest, but their hunches were as good as anyones, and his was telling him something was... odd about the man to say the least.
God, these Goblins are fucking pushy. Always have to have their way. At least he can probably do something with that bulk of his.
Galack looks to his employer, tapping his cigar onto the driveway. "Well sir? Its up to you."
Turning towards Mr Hemerson "That includes you, sir. Also, I'm going to be doing my best to keep you in my line of sight. So long as I can see you I can help prevent harmful magical effects used against you. I'm telling you this because I don't want you to be unnerved or angered at my behavior. My intent is merely provide the service you're paying me for."
"And of course Luc I'll send you my info at once"
Hemerson moves his hand towards his belt, flips a switch and blinks twice. In a half-second your PANs start filling up with Hemerson's contact information, PAN wireless number. Docwagon frequency number. Housewirless network #. And an a beginning-level access password so can contact Hemerson while he is in hidden mode. A vast cascade of info pours across your screen.
As do more than a few Shiawase pop-ups.
"Sorry"
This is the fear of a guy WHO KNOWS HE IS GOING TO DIE. And its not going to be pretty. Its terror and resignation and horror and everything else. Its hidden pretty well.
But his eyes are a little too wide and they dart a little too fast everywhere Hemerson looks. Hemerson's smile is a little too brittle. His actions are little too shaky and high-strung. Hemerson is a man on the edge of deep-soul crushing fear.
And the only thing holding him back from curling up in a ball and crying for his mother, is the presence of other people; the thought that maybe you guys can save him and the idea that as a Shiawase exec he's supposed to act nonchalant in the face of danger.
Luc sees the same thing in the Astral. Terror in red, horror and despair in dark blues and blacks. Along with a shade of concealment, in light green. As if Hemerson wasn't telling you absolutely everything he knows. Close to everything about the situation. But not quite.
All Damien and Marcus can see is that Hemerson is slightly off. Like maybe he's a little uncomfortable. Or like last night's meal isn't sitting well.
Pulling the nondescript over, Luke checks that his long coat is still covering his throat and pulls the sunglasses on. He sits in the car, checking the rear view for a minute before getting out and heading to the boot, making sure to lock the car doors. After taking another glance around under the guise of running his hand through his thinning blond hair, the short, wiry older man opens the boot and checks his duffel bag.
The Remington is still there, along with 50 each of slugs and fletchette shells and is accompanied by about 20m of standard rope and a vehicle toolkit complete with mini welder, wire clippers and lockpick set. There is also a gas mask, helmet and medkit just in case they are needed. He grabs the bag, and pats the pouches at his waist. These contain another 20 each of ammo for the shotgun, a couple each of flash bangs and frag grenades and the area jammer, white noise generator and tag eraser he always carries with him. A pocket in the coat has a drivers license and carry license as well as a commlink, all tied to one of his stash of SINs. Another pocket has the imaging scope for the shotgun, as its capabilities make it a useful tool even without the gun itself.
Satisfied that all the gear is in it's proper place, Luke grabs the bag and closes the trunk with another survey of the surrounding area. Spotting nothing to cause alarm, he heads over to the Hemerson and takes a closer look at what he assumes to be his new work mates.
"Howdy Y'all. One can never be too careful. The name's Luke. I'll be your driver for today, yesiree."
Galack heads back toward his bike in thought. Hemmerson thinks he's going to die. Galack smirks to himself. Maybe this might actually be an interesting job after all.
Jordan of Elienor, Human Shaman
Huh, seems like Hemerson is a little off. Did I unnerve him? I bet I unnerved him. I do that a lot.
"Well, least we don't have to worry too much about being outgunned..."
"Yes. This is an Ares Alpha. It is a good gun. It shoots things really well. One time I shot someone with this gun.
They died."
Apprently finished speaking, Damien continued to whistle and stare out the window.
Hemerson then walks quickly over to the limo and slides in, visibly relaxing as he does so. Here, in the car he is not exposed. Here he is safe.
"We can start the drive to work, whenever you're ready gentlemen"
It's exactly 9:00 AM.
"Well fellas, did'ja plot a route other than the usual? Wouldn't want ta make things to easy for 'em."
With that, Luke activates the wireless on his implanted commlink via the DNI to receive the data.
"I've got two commlinks going, send it to this one if you would be so kind."
With that Luke gives Marcus access to the hidden network that is now running on the implanted commlink.
Marcus unzipped his bag and produced what seemed to be a field-stripped Ares Alpha. Almost immediately, and with the precise movements of someone who had military training, begins to put the weapon together from the parts hidden in the duffel.
Contendedly, he lies back in his seat.
"Right, well I'll leave you, uh, gun buddies to handle the physical side of things. Damien if you can provide counterspelling cover to our employer I'll keep an eye on the astral scenery."
The dwarf makes himself comfortable in the limo and watches to see what the response will be.
With that Luke starts the car rolling, smoothly pulling out onto the roadway and beginning the journey down the tunnel route to the employers destination.
'Wonder how this beast'll handle in a pinch' he thinks to himself. 'Hopefully we won't have to find out the hard way.'
Jumping into the astral Luc takes up station over the dull featureless astral shadow of the limo and begins to survey the path for anything out of the usual.
As you pass through the high-status, high-price neighborhood where Hemerson lives, the cold contrast of the starkly white walls and the deep green of the manicured lawns, attended purely by drones from lawn care companies, is almost shocking. And there are no people outside. There are cars in some driveways, nothing in others. But nobody who lives here is outside, even on a nice day like today. Everything is well-kept and tidy. And there isn't a person to be found.
8 blocks later, you slide onto the main street leading downtown, and eventually to the tunnel that leads to the Shiawase compound that Hemerson works at. Now you are with people. Or more precisely with cars holding people. Almost all of them are being piloted by GridGuide and are sliding along with efficient, cost-effective, mechanical precision. As you slide into the stream of traffic, there isn't even a reaction from the other cars.
When you reach the downtown business district, a high walled canyon of steel and mirrored glass. You slide along streets and turn corners and there are people everywhere. But they don't talk to each other. They don't look at the limo. They don't even look at or acknowledge each other. Even in shops and restaurants, people acknowledge each other as little as possible, carrying out their errands and tasks with as little interference as possible.
As you glide into the tunnel that reaches underneath Mountain Creek Lake and towards the Shiawase compound you enter a world of orange lights and black shadows, as the columns supporting the tunnel roll on past, and you pass slowly moving cars, trucks and vans. There are less cars here than there were on the main road, as this tunnel only leads to corporate parks and industrial compounds and most of the drones were at work hours ago.
And then Luc and Jack spot something. Luc in the Astral, as he ratchets in on the laser like focus of the drivers of a GMC Bulldog. The drivers are watching your limo. Watching it like its the most important thing in there life. And only their dedication to watching the limo is holding in their deep-seated and consuming need for violence.
Jack sees something different on the physical plane. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a black GMC Bulldog. The van is pure black, with tinted windows. Nothing remarkable. One he could of sworn he saw at the beginning of this little trip, about two cars behind them when they switched onto the main road. And there have been little flashes of it ever since. A quick glimpse of the side as the limo turns at an intersection. A quick flash of the van behind another car as the limo glides down a main street. There are other cars there. Always other cars. But as Jack searches his memory, the black van is always there. The black van has always been there.