---

---

---

---

@Eviledd1984 Ben's Office, June 12th 2177, 12:27, tick... tock...

Stefania wiped her tears with the tissues Ben had offered her. "There was a man," she began, her voice as shaky as her darting eyes. No matter how often people rehearsed what they'd say in their minds, when the moment of questioning was there, the emotions always came, and won. "Tall, wearing a slick green coat, watching from a distance. Thought he was selling flavor-sticks at first, but... I can't remember his face. It's like... there's like a static there, in my mind." She looked at Ben, confusion and sadness clouding her eyes. "Mary from down the road was there too. She was near the fountain. Maybe she could have seen something when I was putting the picnic basket away. And then, there's the park's security system. I tried to ask for access, but they never let me see, not without the permission of the authorities, and..." Her voice lowered to a mere whisper now. "They don't want them involved in this. I don't know, but I just have a feeling the Company board doesn't want what's happened to get out." She paused, looking at Ben with a mix of desperation and hope. "Please, find my son. I don't know who else to turn to."

When Ben finally left his office that day, his mind raced. He pocketed his notebook with the photo of Alexander before it got wet from the city's seemingly perpetual condensation-rains. Now then, what to think of it all, and which of the leads to investigate? Time would be of the essence here...

---

@KazAlkemi Downtown, June 12th 2177, 14:59, tick... tock...

Downtown was every bit as literal as it was figurative here in Neon-York. The lower city may technically be the 'first' level of the megacity, but within it, it may as well have been hundreds. Layers upon layers of tower blocks stacked upon each other, with overpasses linking each layer together like cobwebs. Suspended in between were floating markets, squares and parks, data lines, and skycar speedways. Holo-ads and extranet graffiti floated wherever there was any space left. And in the midst of it all were the humans. A lot of them too. A writhing mass of desires, fears, dreams, nightmares, processing, shouting, loving, and, above all: crime.

Zain's PID buzzed with a new notification. He already knew the deal: boss had something to say, no compliments. "You're late on your bounties again, Anders! You know that's gonna cost ya." Remi (affectionately 'Ratface') Rodriguez' tone wasn't lost on Zain. Not even his cheap cologne could mask that sourness. "You’re lucky I keep you around with the way you blow your bits, boy. But listen, I got some more chores, perfect for someone of your... abilities. Got a shady junkie that someone wants taken care of, likes playing flavor-stick seller to kids, currently hiding out at the Midnight Edge Caf-shop I hear. Also got a scrap dealer known as Sprocket. Been selling suspicious tech, from your own neighborhood too, what are the odds. And I haven't heard from Vex for some time, getting worried here, her bounty-timer's way overdue. Now pick one and get a move on." The click came before Zain could even respond. That's Remy for you. Millisecs are Bits too, after all, and Zain's bounty-timer had started ticking once again...

---

@AwesomeZero5 The Conga Exchange Nightclub, June 12th 2177, 16:16, tick... tock...

Night becomes relative when the only sunlight reaching the deep bowels of the city comes in the form of solar electricity. That's why in Neon-York it is said that the time of day doesn't matter, party time's always now or never. And for Kit, party time was now. As their sky-car zoomed away from the Conga Exchange Nightclub through the neon-lit streets of the so-called Pleasure Box, Kit's senses were on high alert, a digital simulacrum of adrenaline coursing through his circuitry. Seated beside him was the mobster in the pinstripe suit. Mr. Rizzo, calm and quiet as always. Too calm and quiet, as always. Kit could feel his tension, it hadn't been this bad in a long time, not since their last job together. What was on that chip Rizzo slotted into him back at the club? No matter. They may have secured the data, but now they were in a race against timed self-deletion encryptions and, as it turned out, against unknown opposition too.

"Congestion ahead" the skycar informed them in a tone too non-plussed for the occassion, as the skylane filled up around them. "At this hour?" Rizzo asked. Was traffic control being manipulated? "Pull over, there in that alley!" Rizzo ordered. Just as the car started to comply, three gunmetal-black hoverbikes appeared behind and started speeding their way. Looking around for even the smallest of squeezing spaces, Kit saw the possibilities - this was what he was made for! Screw traffic: there were the service tunnels underneath the Pleasure Box they could take, bob and weave into the various skylanes to try and get rid of them, or maybe they could even take the fight down to the streets. Whatever choice, gotta go fast...

---

@Izurich SatoCorp VIP Lounge, June 12th 2177, 21:47, tick... tock...

The greedy businessman hung back in his chair. Whatever was left of his face and the whisky therein sloshed onto the floor. His vital signs couldn't get any more flatlined than this. And with that, Master's task was complete... almost. Lenneth only had one more objective: get out, alive. The sudden eerie silence of the room was broken only by the silent alarm's digital wail. Set off by the kill-switch in the man's skull. Lenneth knew - her cleanups almost always ended like this. Automated security measures sprung to life all around her. The windows glazed over as they hardened into their bulletproof state. Lights dimmed and near-infrared rangefinder beams swept across her body, and she knew that all of the building's security would know exactly where she was now. Lenneth's systems processed her options in milliseconds:

• Option 0: Escape via the ventilation shafts. They could offer a potential escape route, away from most of the security forces that would undoubtedly be up here in minutes. Assessment: moderately difficult, Stealth mode recommended.
• Option 1: Rooftop escape, to the emergency exit all the way at the top of the building. Scaling to the rooftop would be risky, but it could offer a swift and open escape route, provided she could navigate the treacherous heights and evade any aerial surveillance. Assessment: moderately difficult, Agile mode recommended.
• Option 2: Stay here and have a standoff at the VIP lounge. This could provide adequate fortifications to make engaging with the coming security easier, and this place did have less cameras considering all the shady deals that went on here, but she would likely have to engage most of the building's security. Assessment: dangerous, Combat mode highly recommended.

The milliseconds went by some more. Decisions, decisions...

---

@Expendable ???, June 12th 2177, 23:59, tick... tock...

Tara? Who was Tara? They used her brain as an extranet server? What in the wide world was going on? The girl stared around her, her eyes slowly but surely adapting to all the new stimulations. She could see variations in the light's intensity now, not just mere blobs of qualia. Against the sterile interior of the ambulance there was her rescuer - the man who disconnected her from the Feed, from the comfort in the numbers and calculations, from... An electric tingling ran through the girl's arm as a needle was run into it. Unknown substances dripped into her, and her mind slipped beyond the edge between consciousness, and something not quite.

The cup of hot water warmed her up, and the shivering started to subside. The safehouse's mismatched furniture and carpets tickled her skin. Behind the thin walls, she could hear people pacing about, anxiously whispering. “Welcome to your new home for now." The man said. "Name's Dex. Not my original name, obviously, not after that stunt we pulled just now. Half of my profile's gonna have to be wiped again, even as a member of the NYSF, but it's worth it." He flashed a small smile, but it was a warm one. "We're gonna have to swap out your PID as well before anything else, get you a new identity, else they'll just track you down again in no time. Speaking of which...” His face suddenly grew serious, and the whispers behind the wall stopped. "What's your name? What do you remember?"

---

"..." A barely perceptible frown curled the nanofiber muscles and synthetic skin of the Bionic Maid's visage as the dead man's switch triggered due to its host being, well, very much dead. Though her Master would already deem the objective to be successful after the elimination of the target, Lenneth had to admit that she... was looking for a convenient excuse to "sweep" clean the rest of these vermin. She had already severed the head of the snake, why not chop up the rest of its body? After all, the pristine world her Master envisioned had no place for their ilk.

Alright, fine, yes, she grew to enjoy this job, even more than before the incident that almost took her life. It unnerved her to dwell on it, but these vigilante pursuits became one of the few things capable of making her feel truly alive. During battle, she could ignore the constant creeping existential dread brought upon by her inhumanity. For many, lethal physical confrontations were something to be avoided; why risk life and limb when you can safely enjoy the same experience through a braindance? But for Lenneth, this was her braindance.

Besides, pragmatically speaking, as long as she protected her cerebral container, everything else about her could be repaired or replaced. This body of hers wasn't actually hers, she's merely piloting it.

With these thoughts coursing through the only remaining original part of her organic body, Lenneth's frown shifted into a subtle eager smirk as she drew Nibelung, her signature weapon, a custom-made rifle specifically designed to interact seamlessly with her systems. Then, she calmly sauntered to the middle of the lounge and stood there, making her stand. In the dimness of the weakened lights, the cold, unblinking blue glow of her bionic eyes became all the more prominent, as if emulating the very gaze of death itself.

---

Action: Option 2 (No Rolls) | FP: 3 | Stress: Tick 0 | Consequences: None (0)
Tag: @MrSkimobile

“You know I rarely ask, and almost never tell Rizz. But seems like you may have really banked a lot of concern on this one. Guess you’ve picked me out for more than just gathering some blackmail material this time. Would exciting if it was encrypted bank bits. If I was a younger model may have spent that if I was greedy.”
He joked toward Mr. Rizzo. Wanting to shift their attitude or their heightened concern just a bit. As a playful grin spread across Kit’s face. His engines racing with excitement as to what exactly Mr.Rizzo had brought themselves into this time. At least the mobster offered Kit jobs to enjoy, unlike plenty of others who considered the android in ‘retirement’.

“Try not to get your blood pressure to high, and buckle in. Better to be safer than sorry should we crash. Especially with the joy ride I’m going to take this thing on. It’ll probably be rough and bumpy. But those ones tend to give the more, satisfying payouts in the end.”
Kit joked.

He knew all too well if they let the car auto-pilot on this get away, they’d be caught. Maybe if they were trying to blend in with other vehicles they’d have a better chance. But-, with sudden large congestion around to slow them down. He doubt they’d get the chance. Which was only reaffirmed by the hover-bikes starting to pursue. They already had someone’s attention.

“Grab your gun, or whatever thick thing is in your pants and get ready to unload when they try to ride our side, right next to the windows!”
Kit would try to jump up front and into the driver’s seat. Engaging the manual controls to shoot right toward a higher sky lane. Aiming to weave upward, and through. Wanting pump more speed into the sky car, before the hover-bikes got the chance to match the acceleration. He was going to warm up with acceleration and some swaying weaves to draw in their pursuers.
If he was lucky, maybe he’d manage to lose them through that alone. No one he knew, was that lucky.

---

Action: Speed & Weave Baby | FP: 0 | Stress: 0 | Consequences: 0
Scene:The Conga Exchange Nightclub SCENE | Tag:@MrSkimobile

Benjamin Marcus Zebrowski

Benjamin watched as Stefania gave him all the information about her missing son, empathizing with her because he had lost custody of his daughter. Having written down what she was saying, he felt he had a good lead on what to find. This Mary person could be an excellent place to start his investigation. “Mrs.Parker, I promise I will find your son; I will call you if I find any information on your son’s whereabouts.” He smiled and placed his hand over the desk for the woman to hold. He squeezed her hand gently before leading her out of her office. Saying goodbye to her before closing the door and taking a deep breath. “Fuck.” Muttering under his breath, he walked over to his desk. He made himself a drink by grabbing a glass and a bottle of whiskey from his desk drawers. He knew that today was going to be a long one. After finishing his drink, he went outside his office and to his car.

He had gotten Mary's house address from Stefania. He was driving to her home while listening to one of his favourite song. He parked his car in the street before getting out. He smiled and nodded towards some kids playing in the street. He knocked on the door while whistling softly. The door opened, and a middle-aged African American woman stood behind it.

“Hello, who are you?” She asked meekly while staring at Benjamin. She looked pretty afraid, and Ben was curious why that was.

“ I am Benjamin Zebroski, a private investigator looking for a lost boy.” he said, showing the picture of Stefania’s missing son. Mary seemed to recognize this and looked quite surprised. She opened the door a bit more with a smile on her face.

“Oh, are you the one looking for Stefania’s son?” Ben answered this question by smiling and nodding his head.

“Yes, ma’am. May I come in? I have some questions for you.” he asked, and he was happy to do so. He was seated on the woman’s couch. The woman offered him some coffee to drink, which he gladly accepted. During their conversation, the man she described sounded similar to what Stefania had mentioned. “Was there anything like what the man in the green coat looked like?” He asked while sipping his coffee.

“I only saw a bit of the guy's face; all I could tell was that he was Asian and had a big birthmark on his cheek. I also noticed he had a ring with a strange symbol.” Mary then drew the symbol on a piece of paper. He handed it to Ben, who took a moment to study it. It was a strange symbol, something he had never seen before.

“Was there anything else you noticed during the kidnapping?” He asked her to, and she nodded softly.

“No, that is all I noticed about the guy. “She shook her head, feeling terrible that she could not give him more information. But Ben resolved her doubt by reassuring her that it was a good start. He thanked her for the coffee before leaving the house to speak to his contact, who is a symbologist.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Action: Option 2 (No Rolls) | FP: 0 | Stress: Tick 0 | Consequences: None (0)

Tag:@MrSkimobile

---

---

Zain sat himself up after Ratface disconnected the phone call. He was a shitstain of a man, but at least he paid what he said he would. Zain had been bent over and smacked around too many times — and not in the fun way — when it came to people scamming him on bits he was owed.

All three jobs intrigued Zain, but the one in his own backyard called to him the most today. Cleaning himself off from the night before, Zain dressed in his leather gear, strapping a weapons belt around his waist and thigh before he headed from his crappy apartment.

His clothes were well worn by him and others, which was fine by Zain because it meant he could throw his bulk around easily. Zain hit the streets and started his hunt for Sprocket.

---

Actions: none| FP: 0| Stress: 0| Consequences: 0
Tag: @MrSkimobile

---

"What's your name? What do you remember?"

Name. Name? A frown so faint that it might have been imagined teased the left corner of her mouth. Was this a diagnostic check?

"My designation is niner-six-wun-six-niner," Niner replies, looking up at Dex. "The Brain was to penetrate the security of target Alpha-Zero-Wun-Ait-Tree without triggering the Black Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics, and this cell was to extract file Bravo-Zulu-zero-zero-zero-wun. Extraction was at fow-er-too percent when I was removed offline. Without extraction, the intrusion countermeasure electronics would have come back on line within too-wun seconds."

Niner tilted her head.
"I do not hear the Brain, I do not hear the cells.... Why?" her voice wobbled for a moment. "Why am I offline?"

---

@Izurich SatoCorp VIP Lounge, June 12th 2177, 21:50, tick... tock...

tick... tock... said the clock on the wall, pretending to be analogue.
tick... tock... bing! said the elevator's display as it reached the lounge.
tick... tock... BANG! said the lounge's doors as they were blasted outwards, spreading a thick particle-laden cloud of smoke throughout the fake wood and leather-clad space. The air started to vibrate with the unmistakable whining whirrs of six buzz-drones' rotors. They wasted no time in diving straight towards Lenneth, their electric saws at the ready. Out of the elevator emerged a tactical drone as big as Lenneth herself. And in the blink of an eye -if Lenneth had the need to blink, that is- a glass panel to her left became transparent again as its bulletproof state was disengaged and instantly shattered as a hypersonic round whistled through the floor. A sniper, in another building? The attack was impeccably timed, she'd have to give them that...

---

@AwesomeZero5 Somewhere Above The Conga Exchange Nightclub, June 12th 2177, 16:20, tick... tock...

Mr. Rizzo gave some of his signature side-eye as he drew his piece, and quickly swallowed his curses as he was pushed back into his seat when Kit hit the accelerator. "Reminder: Please obey the traffic regulations" the car helpfully reminded as it swerved in and out of traffic. They were lucky the less-than-savory parts of town has most of the infrastructure modded not to automatically alert the authorities on their conduct. As they sped ahead amidst cars tooting horns and its passengers gesturing their displeasure, another hovercyclist popped up to entrap them in a pincer maneuver. Rizzo grunted. "Well, Mr. Big Mouth, let's see that famous flexibility of yours get us out of this one, then...", as the hovercyclist fired a wired harpoon straight at them.

---

@Eviledd1984 Capsule Hotel T11H38X, June 12th 2177, 16:45, tick... tock...

"Bro, that's like, some aristocrat shit or something. What kind of ring was it? Can I see it?" The room -if you could call the capsule that- smelled of a cheap synthetic foodpaste. Seated in it, wearing a strange cobbled-together headset, was one of the lankiest people Ben knew, even amongst the more virtually-inclined residents of the city. You don't always have the pick of the litter for your contacts, but Benji had a varied set of hobbies (read: cryptic obsessions), and was always up for an interesting challenge (read: a tit-for-tat). "Tsk." He moaned at the rough drawing of the symbol Mary had given Ben. "You and your old-fashionz, Zebrowski. Couldn't've have given me a 3D scan or something? This' gonna make it even harder to trace, eye witness testimony'z notoriously unreliable, you know: a line or two can be the difference between a royal bloodline, cult, or counterfeit..." A deep and exaggerated vocal sigh finished his theatrics, and Ben knew that it was now his turn in the haggling game: Benji was fishing for money, favors, but details most of all. That was the thing (and possibly the best thing) about him: the most successful way to buy his expertise was simply to pique his interest.

---

@KazAlkemi Sprocket's Scraphouse, June 12th 2177, 15:32, tick... tock...

The bounty's coordinates were close enough -always lucky when you don't have to spend half your bounty-timer on travel. Sprocket's was a typical pick-up-and-go shop: a hollow cube some standardized length x width x height meters that could be slot into most of Neon-York's modular architecture. The place was filled with stacks and racks, and piled high with scrap and components, recycled implants, the usual software ads, even some rusty pre-war cyberlimbs. A couple of banged up MicroFabs tied the whole place together, probably modded to manufacture all your less-than-savory needs. An impressive stock for sure, but nothing that stood out to Zain as warranting the bounty on Sprocket's head. There seemed to be nothing extravagant when it came to security either. The entrance had some tripwire sensors rigged to standard anti-burglary tech. A couple of spider-like securitycams followed him wherever he went. The counter was surrounded with (presumably) weapons-proof plastics. And behind it was someone whirring about with a multi-tool, punctuated with some good old-fashioned hammering and cursing in a language Zain couldn't place. A small-ish middle-aged woman, tatted-to-the-max, perked up at the sight of him. "Well well well, if it ain't a valued customer, what can I do for ya? Want some caffee, mister?" she said, dapping away her forehead sweat. "I only serve it black here, f-y-i..."

---

@Expendable Safehouse, June 13th 2177, 03:31, tick... tock...

Dex couldn't help but wince a little at the answer, and signalled the sudden commotion to calm. The girl had waited patiently after awakening, as if on standby for instructions. And when she finally answered, the daunting task of their whole operation became apparent. It's nothing they hadn't expected. They had simulated the operation of the Brain before, but its goal had eluded the NYSF to this day. They hoped the biological nature of this 'Brain', imperfect and chaotic, could have leaked some critical information between its 'cells'. But it seemed each one only had the most basic details on their goals, indeed, of their own sub-tasks, and even then it was hashed to hell and back. Abstract file designations. Alphanumericals. Percentages. Frag it all. "Niner, huh? You've been through something most people can't even imagine. The Brain was exploiting your brain as a computer, and now you're back in the real world again. I understand, it must be disorienting. We had to pull you out because if we hadn't, there wouldn't be anything left of 'you' to save." Her blank stares ennerved him. How do you reach someone whose mind doesn't even register her own trauma? But maybe, just maybe, there was a way, the tiniest of seed. "I have a task for you, Niner." Dex said as he pulled up a sleek device. "I need you to access this terminal. There’s a file in there holding what little of your personal credentials and memories we were able to recover. It’s encrypted, and all yours to unlock." He paused. "Do you think you can do that?"

---

GM Actions and Prompts:

• @Izurich: Tactical Drone uses Stunt: Creates Advantage: Smoke Grenade (2 free invokes for enemies, 1 used), -1 FP from GM pool; Sniper-Controller Attacks Sneakily (roll Defend against 2); Group of Buzz-Drones Attacks Quickly (roll Defend against 1). Lenneth's Action Budget for this round: 3. (see Tabletop section in OOC)
• @AwesomeZero5: Blackstar Chaser Attacks Quickly (roll Defend against 3), you may choose to engage in conflict or to try and overcome 2 challenges instead (your narrative choice as to what they represent during the chase) at Difficulty 0 and 2, also feel free to control Rizzo as if he were your character/using your own stats. Kit's Action Budget for this round: 3. (see Tabletop section in OOC)
• @Eviledd1984: roll for 2 challenges, Difficulties: 0 (haggle with Benji) and 2 (what the investigation yields, defined by the Shift between roll and difficulty, consult the Ladder for interpretation).
• @KazAlkemi: roll for 2 challenges (your narrative choice as to what they are for in your interaction with Sprocket), Difficulty: 0 and 2.
• @Expendable: roll for 2 challenges, Difficulties: 0 (hack the terminal) and 2 (what memories you can recover, defined by the Shift between roll and difficulty, consult the Ladder for interpretation).

---

As the milliseconds marched on, the Bionic Maid was again reminded just how clumsy their security details were, no wonder she could slip past and infiltrate right into the heart of their lair without so much as raising an alarm. Indeed, what's the use of all that firepower if you don't even notice the enemy's presence? Really, she was doing them a favor here, let them compensate for their substandard response time and have a chance to prove themselves.

As the elevator arrived with a literal bang, spreading thick opaque smoke from within, a holographic halo projected from the back of Lenneth's scalp - a set of three rotating rings glowing with pale blue light - as she engaged her H.A.Lo Module, performing constant rapid scans of the immediate vicinity.

7 hostiles; 6 buzz-drones, 1 tactical drone. She identified them through the obscuring gaze just as one of the hardened windows suspiciously returned to normal, the reason why immediately became apparent through the high caliber shot aimed at her.

In this situation where even milliseconds could mean the difference between a hit or miss, Lenneth's artificial muscles and skeletal systems immediately reacted as swiftly as they could to maneuver her body out of harm's way. This marksman proved to be quite troublesome, but for now, she had more pressing mechanical matters.

Facing toward the saw-wielding drones, the bionic maid deemed it was time to execute sterilization protocol.

First, Lenneth used her weapon and limbs to parry and deflect the drones' whirring blades before she immediately followed up by using those very same weapon and limbs to swiftly punch, kick, and bludgeon their buzzing faces in; her technique aided by the data gathered by her halo-shaped radar to know precisely where each percussive maintenance could be most effectively applied.

Once done with the saw swarm, the cyborg agent set her unblinking mechanical gaze to the man-sized tactical drone. Flexing her legs, Lenneth launched off into a sprint, dashing through the VIP floor before she launched herself toward the securibot. She'd plant her boots first against its torso to tackle it down, then she'd aim her carbine at almost point-blank range to its analyzed weakpoint before pulling Nibelung's trigger, spewing a stream of electromagnetically-charged solid projectiles from the barrel.

---

Actions:
❖ Stunt (Halo Module): 2 Free Invokes Aspect, -1 FP
❖ Quick Defend (vs Sneaky Attack): 1 + 2 = 3
❖ Forceful Defend (vs Quick Attack): -2 + 3 = 1
❖ Quick Attack + Free Invoke (at Buzz-Drones): -2 + 2 + 2 = 2
❖ Forceful Attack + Free Invoke (at Tactical Drone): -3 + 3 + 2 = 2

FP: 3 - 1 = 2 | Stress: Tick 0 | Consequences: None (0)
Tag: @MrSkimobile

---

"Do you think you can do that?"

What a weird diagnostic test. Was this supposed to be a field check?

Pulling out a cord from one of her secure ports, Niner connected to the terminal, and dove in, her focus on gaining access. The system was older, unpatched in ages, unable to put up much of a fight against her skills to hack into more powerful systems than this.

Niner would have smiled, if she knew what a smile was.

The file, however, proved to be a greater challenge. It was corrupted, fragmented. Without the processing power of the other braincells, it would be difficult to recover the file quickly. Especially with the encryption. It felt it was a set of recordings recovered from a backup.

"Did this come from a dead drop?" she asked, pulling herself just enough outside to glance back at Dex, her face still bland. "This file is too corrupted to be read at this time. Without the other braincells, I will need time to process the recovery of the data."

"My memories of my time on the Farm are indexed," she added, tilting her head slightly, "And many of my memories from the Nursery from before I was decanted and afterward. May I ask what you wish to show me?"

---

Challenges:
Hack the terminal, difficulty zero, Fantastic result +6.
Memory Recovery, difficulty 2, Fair result +2.

@MrSkimobile

Benjamin Marcus Zebrowski

Capsule Hotel T11H38X, June 12th 2177, 16:45

Benjamin smiled, shaking his head while he spoke to Benji. He hoped that Benji would explain the symbol's meaning to him. “Hi, don’t blame me. She picked up a pencil and paper and sketched the image on the ring.” Leaning a little, his face was close to Benji’s. “So what do I gotta pay ya to determine what this symbol means.” He leaned back into his chair, somewhat dreading his response. He had difficulty trying to haggle a reasonable price from Benji. But they were finally able to agree on a price. He was glad the price would not dent his wallet that much.

“That’s the perfect price for your services.” Ben listened as Benji explained the symbol. The symbol was connected to a group of homegrown terrorists called Blutwölfe. This was strange to him as why would a kidnapper have a ring associated with such an awful group. “I’m gotta talk with those punks and ask who would have this ring.” Ben sighed before drinking the soda Benji offered him. “Thanks for your help, Benji; we should get a beer one day.” Standing up and shaking Benji’s hand before leaving. He gets into his car and drives towards their local hangout called the Black Sun. He hoped that he could get some information out of these greaseballs.

Challenges:
Hagging, difficulty zero, Average result +1.
Investigation, difficulty 2, Great result +4

---

---

”Sprocket, my darling, you’re looking absolutely fine as usual. Have you gotten anything new and exciting lately?”

Zain walked up to Sprocket’s workbench and leaned his arms on the table, glancing at the random pieces scattered about. He picked up a couple to examine them like he knew what he was looking at, even though he didn’t have a clue. Sprocket was usually a procurer of rare and unique items, as well as things that anyone with more than two bits to their name wouldn't buy. But people were often down on their luck here, and if anyone needed a good score, Sprocket usually had the goods. Or the information.

”I could use a cup of black coffee,” Zain said, perfectly fine with however it came. ”And who’s buying up your new supplies, Sprocket?

---

Actions: Charm Sprocket/Clever +1 = +1 Average result ; Who’s buying new supplies/Clever +1 = +4 Great result| FP: 0| Stress: 0| Consequences: 0
Tag: @MrSkimobile

Kit would laugh at a mixture of Rizzo being slammed back in the seat as well as the 'reminder' of traffic regulations.
Gripping the wheel tight all the while, as he had no intention of slowing down at all! Now was the time to climb up to crazy speeds, they were already in danger, what was some speeding violations? Probably wouldn't even get a ticket with armed Mooks to be worried about!

"Ah, the boys didn't cut out the traffic awareness lines! On the one had, glad they're trying to save safely, but just hopes it doesn't keep barking at us!"
"Did warn you about the seat belt!"

"Mmm, less about Flexibility at the moment. More about that, intense, hard, ramming!"
He laughed. Kit didn't want to slow down and let the other cyclists to catch up, nor did he want to risk a full on turn to avoid the hook.
Doubted they could actually have enough control to perform at the high speeds.

But it was one hover bike, versus a whole car!
He'd drift so that the hook would scrape by the passenger side, as the rest of the car would be speeding to slam the Mook into next Sunday!
Probably would cause a bit of damage, but what was that in exchange for not getting boxed in, and perhaps causing a pile up behind the get away?

In the meantime Rizzo would follow up with a couple of pot shots at the Mook up front, and the Mooks behind.
Before pulling himself back in the hover car! Hoping to at least slow them down with cover at the worse, or get lucky and take a biker mook down at the best.

---

Action: Shoot & Run | FP: 0 | Stress: 0 | Consequences: 0
Scene:The Conga Exchange Nightclub SCENE | Tag:@MrSkimobile

---

@Izurich SatoCorp VIP Lounge, June 12th 2177, 21:52, tick... tock...

"Data Acquired; Analysis Complete!" The tactical drone transmitted as its crumple zones bent and twisted by Lenneth's tackle. It struggled against her to the best of its abilities, but was quickly left in various states of matter phase transitions as Nibelungen's high velocity particle streams flash-heated its insides to temperatures approaching the surface of the sun. "Observation: Impressive, but futile." a distorted voice from the inoperable tactical drone's speaker spoke. "Advisory: Reinforcements are imminent; Consider cessation of hostilities."

The buzz-drones, or rather what remained of them, righted themselves after they were swatted out of the air. Not likely they'd give Lenneth much more trouble without the tactical drone coordinating them, but they could be enough of a distration for her when the more specialized reinforcements after this initial scouting party arrived. Lenneth's HALo system sweeped the area. The lounge may have been in lockdown, but there was a broken window to the outside now, as well as an evacuated turbolift shaft.

Zap! Zap! two more whistling rounds registered on Lenneth's sensors. "Consolation: Your termination will be swift."

---

@Expendable Safehouse, June 13rh 2177, 04:08, tick... tock...

"Sir?" A second person emerged from behind the strange decor, and Dex excused himself for a while to discuss the matter. A good while, longer than Niner anticipated - 744056 entire milliseconds to be exact. When he came back and sat back down, he continued the conversation without much delay.

"Niner, your rescue is part of a far greater operation than you realize. The NYSF has been trying to track down and unravel the Brain for quite some time now, but they continue to evade us. Shell companies inside shell companies. Whitewashing computations with continuously changing legitimate services. It was an ordeal to track you down and infiltrate the cell, and we managed in the end, but there are still more, others like you, still trapped, used, exploited. And their security will only get upgraded after last night. But we think you can help us in saving them, and dismantling their operation." He motioned towards the terminal. "The data stored in here aren't just of you, Niner. They also belonged to your... original. We hoped your mind was sufficiently alike that you could unlock its neural encryption, maybe even reconstruct some memories of key figures in the Brain's operation, or at least some accomplices. But it seems we were too hasty. The data isn't corrupted. Your brain just doesn't have the experiences to make sense of them yet." He took a breath. "I will have you live-in with an agent of ours. We will accompany you for now, for your wellbeing, of course. Rent-free, all-inclusive, and we'll show you the sights to boot. But we would like your help in the future. What do you think? Any preferences?" He asked with a smile.

---

@Eviledd1984 Black Sun Neurostim Den, June 12th 2177, 20:08, tick... tock...

"Thankz, bro." Benji said as he shook his hand, and Ben felt his digital wallet get lighter as the handshake signed their transaction. "Still, the shit you get yourself into, man... these ᛒlutwölfe are no joke. Ever seen the uncensored vids from the wars? Right gnarly. 'ᛒlood demands loyalty', they say. My azz, I say. Buncha cloned fuckers salty they were on the wrong side of the war." He nodded. Yes. That was his opinion on the matter. "Be careful out there, Zebrowski, else I'll never get that beer."

The ᛒlutwölfe. What an enemy. Clones originally bred for cybernetic warfare, they were set to be decommissioned when the cyber-wars ended, but ended up doing what they did best: fight back, and killing a lot of people in the process. Many of them became the bought-and-paid-for enforcers for the mob-gov - mobsters who could well be called the de-facto local governments in the downtrodden districts of the Lower City. As such, these bloodhounds mostly terrorized the deepest darkest parts of Neon-York now, kept them in line, or at least contained. For this reason, the NYSF generally stayed out of their way to focus on more pressing targets. And the ᛒlutwölfe saw no reason to upset this unspoken truce, for now.

The Black Sun lived up to its name. Lit dimly only by UV blacklight, people would come to drink and hook up their brains to cheap stimulators. Or, that was its front, at least. Who knows how many private 'meeting' and 'interrogation' rooms could be found there. Its main entrance was flanked by a duo of bouncers, but Ben saw some private entrances that required a face-scan before entry. And around it were figures hidden in the shadows, many of them probably still reeling from their stims. One of the shadows spoke up. "Happy hour's long past, oji-san. Better keep walking."

---

@KazAlkemi Sprocket's Scraphouse, June 12th 2177, 15:45, tick... tock...

"Finally decided to kit yourself out with some of the good stuff, huh?" Sprocket laughed as she took out some of her slightly above-average equipment, with only the most stylish touches of rust here and there. She definitely knew how to match her wares to the customer. "Boss got you a sweet gig or what?"

When Zain asked his second question Sprocket turned an ashen gray as the blood drained from her face. A terminal on the other side of the counter started blinking with a vitals-linked alert -one Sprocket quickly swiped into standby mode-, and the spider-bots started pre-emptively flanking Zain. "Ah. So that's the gig you're here for? I never thought..." She started. The caffee machine pinged and she poured two cups. In her own, with blatant disregard for the skull-and-bones warning label, she put a glug of cleaning alcohol. "Black market's a bitch, Zain, you have no idea. Cut-throat. Dangerous. And sometimes you have no idea what you're messing with until the unsavories come knocking at your door --no offence. Last customer was the whole damn trifecta. Wanted to buy a brain-case. Easy money, done it before. But this guy was different, wanted one of the oldest ones I had, ancient stuff! I tried prying at him a bit, if the brain he wanted to store in it was just as ancient, but he didn't answer. Just had this strange cold stare, creeped me out. Weirdest thing is I have no idea what he looked like now I think about it. Wore a green coat, strange ring, mole on his face, but nothing else about him particularly stuck out to me. So there you go." She shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "Ah, I was bound to get bountied someday, but that's what they wanna hush me up for?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Sprocket the fugitive, some title. Guess I'm gonna have to up my prices now for that... But I tell you what." Sprocket continued. "How about I offer you this baby here." She started typing in a passkey to a safe behind her counter, and slid forward a small package containing a chip. "Neural assistant, not the most advanced by a long shot, but it's plug 'n play. And it has a friend's discount on it. Best friend's discount, if you get what I'm saying. All I ask is you let some more time pass on that bounty-timer of yours. I get out of dodge, and you can tell the boss you got here too late."

---

@AwesomeZero5 Somewhere in the Depths of the Lower City, June 12th 2177, 16:50, tick... tock...

The harpoon-claw scratched their car, and in the split second that it did, a digital signal briefly scrambled its systems. Kit could almost see the hovercyclist wince through her visor as she barely managed to swerve out of the disrupted car's way. Rizzo applied some percussive maintenance to the dashboard, and the systems quickly came back online. "Hmm. Should try that on you some time." Sticking his head out of the window looking down onto the scratched side, Rizzo grumbled some more. "Repairs for the dents are coming from your pay, amicello!" He said as he unlocked the safety off of his gun. The rider previously in front had quickly swerved back in line, hacking-harpoon retracted and ready to fire once more, but the gunshots of Rizzo echoed throughout the streets, and the front rider braked and quickly evaded the attack. When the other bikers caught up, their bikes got the full force of Rizzo's gunfire. Center mass, perfectly by the book. Their bikes started sputtering as their hover-pads sparked and flickered and the bikes slowly descended back into the city's cruel underbelly. The front rider quickly retreated behind and seemed to speak something into an earpiece, and the chase was broken off. "All too easy." Rizzo said as he came back inside, and clipped on his seatbelt.

The rest of the trip was comfortably uneventful. The skycar descended into an alley behind a dilapidated warehouse, out of sight from the main street. Rizzo checked his watch, then stepped out to scan the surrounding and popped a chewing gum into his mouth. He motioned for Kit to follow. The rendezvous point seemed as inconspicuous as ever, but Rizzo never ever settled until a job was done. "Something feel off to you?" He asked.

Some minutes later, a figure emerged from the shadows, smoking a retro-cig. A tall woman, her features obscured by a hood. "Rizzo," she acknowledged, then eyed the scratch. "Ran into some trouble did you? Did you get the drop at least?" As she came closer, she noticed Kit and turned to face him. "Good thing you brought the tin man." Virginia smiled. "It's been a while, Kit..."

---

GM Actions and Prompts:

• @Izurich: Tactical Drone Defends (-1 vs 1, stress applied: 2, taken out); Buzzdrones Defend (3 vs 3, stress applied: 0, boost gained: disoriented), Sniper-Controller Attacks 2x (roll Defend against 4 and 3), Buzzdrones Create Advantage "Tied up" (roll Defend against -2).
• @AwesomeZero5: Front Blackstar Chaser Ties (gains boost), Back Blackstar Chaser Defends (4 vs 7, stress applied: 3, taken out), Front Blackstar Chaser Defends (4 vs 2, success, Concedes).

The Bionic Maid promptly dispatched the largest threat in the room, but even in its mechanical death throes, the drone still managed to voice out a cheeky quip or two. Truly, whoever or whatever was controlling these machines was confident they had the advantage...

Thunk! Thunk!

...and they might just be correct as a pair of high caliber bullets blitzed through the neon-lit sky from the sniper's weapon, straight into the other skyscraper's window and struck Lenneth's temple, at virtually the same exact spot too. The combination of receiving two anti-materiel projectiles in such quick succession was almost enough to pierce through the layers of force-absorbent reactive skin, nanofibre muscles, plasteel bone plates, and protective casing sheltering Lenneth's brain from the rest of the world.



The literal warning signs were as clear as a malfunctioning hover-semi careening straight into opposite traffic. The sniper had nearly struck a critical blow and as much as Lenneth hated to admit it, she should indeed consider ceasing hostilities... except not in the way they wanted.

With a minute shift in her expression that might be construed as a frown, Lenneth zipped back toward the buzzdrones, fully intending to finish what she started. Making full use of their disoriented systems, the golden-haired cyborg smashed her way through them, each blow specifically aimed to decommission them, this time permanently.

"Fuh..." With a tense yet tranquil sigh, the enforcer suddenly turned her body toward the only transparent window among the sea of opaqueness. She flexed her artificial legs... then dashed forward, gaining more and more momentum before it all climaxed via self-defenestration as Lenneth launched herself off the building.

Then, within the span of the next few long seconds, still surrounded by glinting, broken pieces of reinforced glass, the battlemaid drew her weapon and at the same time, Nibelung hummed and shifted, transitioning into its marksman rifle mode. She'd only get a literal one shot at this, better make it count. Lenneth pushed her H.A.Lo, optical, and mobility systems into overdrive to locate the troublesome sniper's most likely position, snapped her aim toward them, then pulled the trigger.

Time itself seemed to slow down as the weapon's electromagnetic barrel accelerated a single projectile out, hopefully with enough velocity and stability to give the sniper a taste of their own medicine.

As for the counter-shooter herself, she wouldn't really have time to confirm a hit (or miss), she could only hope for the best and focus on executing a safe-... survivable landing.

---

Actions:
❖ Quick Defend (vs Sniper Attack (4)): 0 + 2 = 2 | Receive Stress: 4 - 2 = 2
❖ Quick Defend (vs Sniper Attack (3)): -3 + 2 = -1 | Receive Stress: 3 - (-1) = 4
❖ Stress Accumulation into Consequence: 2 + 4 = 6 | Receive Severe Consequence: Cerebral Container compromised
❖ Forceful Defend (vs Buzzdrones Create Advantage (-2)): 0 + 3 = 3
❖ Forceful Attack (at Buzzdrones + Invoke Boost (Disoriented)): 2 + 3 + 2 = 7 | FP Cost: -1
❖ Quick Attack (at Sniper + Invoke Stunt (Bionic Body)): 0 + 2 + 3 = 5 | FP Cost: -1 | Receive Stress: 2
❖ Stress Accumulation into Consequence: 2 | Receive Minor Consequence: Nanofibre Muscles overexertion

FP: 2 - 2 = 0 | Stress: Tick 0 | Consequences: Severe (Cerebral Container compromised), Minor (Nanofibre Muscles overexertion)
Tag: @MrSkimobile

Benjamin Marcus Zebrowski

Black Sun Neurostim Den, June 12th 2177, 20:08

Benjamin could feel something being taken from his wrist. Glaring at Benji while moving his arm away from Benji. “I think I can handle some lab grown freaks. But thanks for the concern.” He thought he could handle himself; he had been a soldier and dealt with many tough SOBs. He had fought these bastards before, so he knew how dangerous they could be. Heading out of the building and towards the ᛒlutwölfe hangout. Making sure he had his gun on him because he wasn’t sure if Benji had taken that too. He hoped he wouldn’t have to use it, but there was a possibility he would need it if a fight happened.

Ben parked his car in a parking lot far from the den. He didn’t want his car to be stolen during the investigation. Getting out of his car and heading towards the den, avoiding eye contact with the junkies mumbling nonsense. Walking through the front door, he said he was looking for a fix. This, of course, was a lie, as he wanted to get into the den. The bouncer didn’t seem to think he was a junkie looking for a fix. “You wanna get in? I gotta frisk ya.” The bouncer said, to which Ben nodded.

Being frisked by the bouncer, who said he would confiscate the gun while he was inside the den. “I hope I get that back; it’s a family heirloom.” Ben spoke with a chuckle, but the bouncer didn’t find his comment funny. Being let into the den, Ben made his way further into the building, where he was stopped by a ᛒlutwölfe member. The man was asking him what his business was.

“Whatz your biz ere?” The skinny man had his hand extended as if this would stop Ben.

“I’m looking for a job, and I heard you guys were looking for new blood.” Ben showed the man the image of the ring symbol. This made the man think for a moment before nodding and having Ben follow him into the back rooms of the den. Ben sure hoped he wouldn't be brought into an isolated room to be beaten to death.

Actions: N/A | FP: 0| Stress: 0| Consequences: 0
Tag: @MrSkimobile

Kit was elated that they the front chaser had given up. It would have been awkward having to deal with part of the windshield obscured or outright broken with a body that had gone through it! Seemed the classic bet on the weight and momentum of the vehicle was a good one.

Although he did confuse the harpoon to be the old fashioned fine, rather than a scrambler. An underestimating bit on his part. But, can't be careful about every little detail when in a middle of a dangerous chase. Especially with one's own life on the line.

"Hmm, trying to hook deep into me to scramble my systems, or giving me a good p-"
Kit would let out a small scoff followed by a snicker. "You know you make these too easy sometimes~."

"Better to repair a couple dents in a car, than a couple of dents and holes in you. Still going to grumble and moan about it later though. Maybe when we're completely sure there's no more gunshots to be had."

Kit was glad that Rizzo had made sure to scan the area once they landed. In truth, he'd just performed the drop-off and dart the hell out of dodge without securing things first. Kit wouldn't be relaxed either, but didn't have the same level of apprehension & awareness to take the cautions. Instead maintaining an active alertness to jump, gun, or run at any given moment instead. Riding the rush, rather than preparing it as often as he should.

"Mmm, really depends on what you ended up taking, hun. Considering it was just biker detail. Can't say it feels too off yet. But you'd know about getting the h-" Kit cleared his throat.
"The jump on things, better than I."

The waiting was the unsettling moments of the job.
Waiting always felt like it could mean any number of troubles, or perhaps simple background anxieties.
It also slowly killed the 'buzz' of it all, making one feel less alert or trustworthy over time depending.

That was when, Virginia arrived. An old family member, perhaps ward or employer even at times.
The surprise did register and 'buzz' through Kit's eyes upon seeing her. Not expecting her to arrive in person at least.

"Yeah, uh... a while. Maybe a few months now."
"Some annoyed bikers. Seemed pretty standard security, but didn't really eye them beyond a few blurred masses to say."

Kit would slip the chip out of the hidden port along his hip.
Before stepping over to slip it into Virginia's hand, concealing it under his other palm all the while.

"Might be a bit stupid to ask. But, have you been managing your sleep well between your cases lately? Shouldn't be going without eight hours of sleep, ya know."
A bit more of a nostalgic, and protective attitude surfaced from Kit.

---

Action: Trade Off | FP: 0 | Stress: 0 | Consequences: 0
Scene: Somewhere in the Depths of the Lower City SCENE | Tag:@MrSkimobile

---

---

Zain’s eyes flickered over to the flashing light. Sprocket’s quick movements of them disarming it gave him pause, and he eyed Sprocket curiously. He accepted the cup of coffee from them but didn’t drink from it. The spider-bots moving around Zain made his skin twitch, but he didn’t take his focus off Sprocket.

”You undervalue the information you have just provided me with, Sprocket darling. And the means my boss uses to get that information.”

He looked over the Neural-Assistant she showed him with mild interest. It was low grade, nothing of significance, but it was better than what he had. However, if it was time Sprocket wanted, then he needed something better than this.

”Time is a valuable thing. If I’m to give you time, then I need something that is worth it. Because giving you time means losing time for me.” Zain kept one eye trained on Sproket, waiting for her to give him a list of what goods she had, and one eye scanned the room looking for any way out should he need a quick escape.

---

Actions: Quick Escape/Careful +2 = +4 Great result ; Inventory List/Clever +1 = -1 Poor result| FP: 0| Stress: 0| Consequences: 0
Tag:@MrSkimobile

---

"I will have you live-in with an agent of ours. We will accompany you for now, for your wellbeing, of course. Rent-free, all-inclusive, and we'll show you the sights to boot. But we would like your help in the future. What do you think? Any preferences?" He asked with a smile.

"Help?" Niner's head jerked up. "Yes, help. I can help. How can I help you?"

Her face stayed bland but there was a hint of eagerness in her voice. The terminal was locked down, she needed access to the wire. She needed to do something.... So many lost clock cycles....

"I have no preferences," she added. "I am willing to do anything to assist. Please state assignment parameters?"

There was a shifting in his face. Her frown did not appear on her own. Was she wrong? Did he mean something else? It was frustfrating to communicate this way! Was it the file? What didn't she understand about the file? Why would she need access to Mother's memories? Where was Mother right now? Was she still in Rio de Janeiro? She'd been unable to check on her since the disconnect. If only she could reach out to the Brain, the other cells would know.

---

@Izurich Outside SatoCorp Site 05, June 12th 2177, 21:54[/b], tick... tock...

"Helpfully: medics are on their wa--". The tactical drone stuttered and rattled as Lenneth accelerated off against its last functioning parts. The buzzdrones dropped like sparking mosquitoes once the scorned hurricane of a woman was done with them, buzzing up what little luxury remained of the lounge. The HaLO module had triangulated the entry and exit holes of the sniper shots into a single point. And as she slid out of the shattered window with all systems overclocked, every actuator in Lenneth's body lined up millimeter by millimeter: shoulder, stock, barrel, and in the distance, that one square inch in that one window out of thousands. Tick... Tock... Lenneth's internal countdown said. Bang. And in the opposite Site 04 building, the cleaning bots would be having an unexpected start of the day mopping up red.

"Status report!" barked a suit in SatoCorp Ops Control, data streams scrolling past on his cybernetic eyes. "Sniper's telemetry indicates termination, sir, target 'Ghost' is at large!" replied the security officer. The suit cursed. "Deploy cleanup now, we cannot afford to let this leak!"

The way down in Neon-York is long. But near-terminal velocity doesn't need to be fatal when near-fully augmented and clever with it. With systems still overclocked, Lenneth scanned her options. Closest were other corporate rooftops and skycar platforms, then a maze of pipes and machinery that marked the beginning of the industrial sector. Both had plenty of cover and escape routes, and there were plenty of aerial worker-drones with minimal programming she could hijack for transport, or distractions. Lenneth knew it would be suicidal for any corporation to send non-NYSF armed forces into public no-man's land after the wars. But still, time would be of the essence: they would be scanner-sweeping the area before long, and with warning signs blaring in her mind, and alarms blaring in the distance, the question now was how she would hide, and where Lenneth would attempt to escape to once in the clear.

---

@Eviledd1984 Black Sun Neurostim Den, June 12th 2177, 20:21, tick... tock...

The lanky man led Ben through the back corridors, which became more guarded as they went. Ben was met with silent stares, undoubtedly already alerted of his coming. After arriving at one of the back rooms, Ben's guide ushered him in, bowed to the room as he stepped in himself, and kept watch in silence next to the door, hand on his sidearm.

There sat a woman waiting for him. "My brother tells me you wish to join the Pack." Straight to the point. "I wonder what brought a person of your standing here. Tough times?" She said with a questioning tone of voice as she stood up, eyeing Ben up and down. She had the posture of a grizzled soldier. Her appearance hinted at some Japanese genetics, and she had a mole under one of her ultra high-end blue cybernetic eyes. Ben had seen a few men and women with similar appearances in the den, but this one was a veteran of the clones for sure, judging by the scars. Her right hand was almost entirely robotic save for a lone ring finger wearing their sigil ring - had she lost her fingers to some enemy corpo-soldier in the wars, or to the mob as punishments? "Jäger SA-2, Gretchen to my brothers and sisters." The woman introduced herself as, and shook Ben's hand with a vice-like grip. As she did, Ben felt a tiny needle shoot up his palm, drawing blood and tissue. When Gretchen pulled back her hand, she took the small blood sample from her robotic limb and plugged it into the terminal on the desk. Though her eyes were turned away, Ben knew they monitored and judged all his reactions and body language.

Turning back from the terminal to face Ben, she clasped her hands and a small devious smile crept over her face. "You must understand our selection criteria for new associates are very rigorous. Blood demands loyalty, after all. I will remind you it's not too late to turn back. Else, tell me: what will our background checks find when we trace your DNA, Mr... What was it again?"

---

@KazAlkemi Sprocket's Scraphouse, June 12th 2177, 15:55, tick... tock...

Sprocket's jaw clenched in a mix of nerves and anger. She leaned over the counter. "Listen, you drive a hard bargain, but you're not the usual thug that bastard Ratface sends out to do his errands for him. So I tell you what..." She pushed some buttons and a hologram popped up in front of her. With a swipe of her fingers she bounced it over to Zain.

Holo-Cloak: active camo nano-fabric. Not perfect, but in low-light environments it'll make you damn-near invisible.
Combat Stims: muscle stims, reflex stims, pain inhibitors, all-in-1. Short duration, but good for a fight. Also good for other things, if you catch my drift... or so I've been told.
Scrambler: for when you need to disappear from parts of the Extranet. Gets rid of traces of your PID and tracking data.

But before Zain had the time to make a choice, Sprocket's eyes widened. "Time's up, Sprocket." A modulated voice, cold and calculated, came from the door. An angular helmet obscured his face, but his stance and nonchalance betrayed him as being a fellow bounty hunter, one Zain knew well. Servos humming with each step, his hand hovering over his gun, Varis Hark approached. He raised his gloved hand and activated a holographic display showing the bounty warrant. "You are wanted for illegal trade and suspicion of involvement in terror-related transactions. Surrender peacefully and cooperate, or be prepared to face the consequences." As Varis Hark passed Zain, his helmet tilted imperceptibly as if sizing him up. Without breaking stride, he murmured in a low, mechanical voice, "This doesn't concern you, Anders. Stick to your own bounties."

Sprocket locked eyes with Zain, and the hologram started displaying her thought-messages. "You'll get the pick before I clean the camera-data and migrate the store, but I'm gonna need some help here."

---

@AwesomeZero5 Somewhere in the Depths of the Lower City, June 12th 2177, 17:00, tick... tock...

"Still looking out for me, huh, Kit?" Virginia smiled. "Sleep's a luxury for people with my job I'm afraid, but I'll be alright, you know me and my supplements..." she said as she slid the chip into her own data-port augment. Her eyes glazed over for a second before she took it out again, data transfer complete, the chip now smoking as the meltdown command was triggered. "Well, well," she purred as she looked at Rizzo. "You reeled in a big one this time. Good job gentlemen, rewards will be handsome as always." Rizzo crossed his arms. "Get down to it, Virginia, we didn't dodge gangsters just to exchange pleasantries."

Virginia shifted fully into her business persona. "There has been some interesting corporate maneuvering in the city recently. We suspect that elements of the top players are jockeying for control by using neural erasure to eliminate threats and maintain control within the ranks. And this..." she tapped her data ports "...gives us one piece of the puzze. They're planning a gala. Very secretive. Top functionaries, corporate security details, the whole deal. But more importantly, they've erased something from the data, there's a gap in the memories in here, and our client wants to know what it is. They've paid handsomely for our expertise in the discovery phase of this case." Virginia's eyes narrowed slightly. "It won't be easy," she mused, tapping her chin. "Getting in there, but it will be worth a whole lot of Bits. Or, if we play our cards right, it could secure us a few favors in high places, even a seat at the bargaining table." Almost hesitantly, she turned back to Kit. "We may need you once again. If you're not too busy living life on the edge..."

---

@Expendable Lower City Alley, June 20st 2177, 01:00, tick... tock...

Some weeks later, Niner found herself in a dim-lit alley in the Neon-York's Lower City's depths. In her time out of digital servitude, Dex's team had rigorously uploaded physical infiltration trainings and tested her to build on her digital skills. And now, her first mission had begun. The air was thick with anticipation, the smell of ozone, and the sound of hovercars humming in the distance. Her squadmate, callsign 'Rho', adjusted Niner's neural interface collar, and eyed the rundown warehouse across the street. Its facade may have been scarred with digital graffiti and broken windows slabbed with holographic ads, but they hid the inside of the facility from view almost too well for it to be accidental. Niner saw a surveillance drone patrolling the area, and every now and again guards too heavily armed to be the mere squatters they pretended to be took a stroll outside. Intel suggested it was an unregistered fabricator lab used to produce high-end cybernetics for illegal operations. "Niner," Dex crackled over the comms, "Welcome to your first op. Stick to the mission parameters: infiltrate, gather any evidence you can find, communications or operational logs if possible. Get in, get out. Rho will help you. Good luck."

Niner scanned the area and found some Extranet channels they could potentially use to listen in on and insert communications, and there were maintenance tunnels. Rho suggested she could try to physically infiltrate the building through a side entrance or the rooftop that seemed less guarded. Then a sudden noise came from inside the building, and they heard a guard approach.

---

GM Actions and Prompts:

• @Izurich: Buzzdrones and Sniper both rolled -3 on Defend, and are taken out, gain +1 FP for choosing to exit the conflict.
• @Eviledd1984: Gretchen Compels Ben's High Concept/Relationship Aspect, accept to gain +1 FP.

---

Though she couldn't exactly verify with a 100% certainty that the sniper had been neutralized, judging from the lack of any further hi-powered ballistics sent her way, the marksman must have either been clipped or intimidated into retreating, either way, it was a welcomed reprieve as she now could fully focus on her descent.

As she freefell, data streams from her systems and modules were fed into and analyzed by her CPU-assisted organic brain; various options were sorted through the process of elimination until the two most viable were left, either travel high along the roofs and platforms or disappear within the labyrinthian architecture of the industrial sector. The latter was calculated to provide higher odds of a successful exfiltration, they were comparable really, but since she had the luxury of making a choice...

Snapping her gaze toward one of the many utility drones buzzing through the air, the Bionic Maid uploaded a hostile override program as it brute-forced through the drone's third-rate cybersecurity system. Lenneth was no netrunner, far from it, all she did was using the prepackaged hacking algorithm provided to her, much like how an NYSF personnel would use a standard-issue flashbang. A dedicated hacker would be able to accomplish far more miraculous things in the cyberspace, however, as far as taking over a simple work drone goes, something this simple would be enough.

With the drone hacked, she sent a remote command for it to reposition itself, just close enough for her to grab onto it after holstering her weapon. "Tch..." The blonde cyborg gritted her teeth as her systems informed that her artificial limbs were suffering minor damages, no doubt from the overclocking she did earlier. Speaking of warnings, all these blaring were becoming quite... irksome.

As the overridden drone transported her down toward the Industrial Sector, Lenneth internally activated her self-repairing module as streams of stem-nanobots were deployed to her mechanical cranium, undoing the damage done by the sniper and most importantly, shutting off the infuriating critical alerts for good.

Eventually, the drone descended to a safe enough altitude for its cybernetic passenger to simply let go before it was then released from servitude and returned to its previous automated duties. For her part, Lenneth landed on one knee with a hard thud against the gray, drab concrete of an alleyway nestled in-between two manufacturing plants. "..." Her glowing blue eyes scanned her surroundings before she stood up then decided to head for the Lower City, the best place to lay low in this neon-drenched metropolis.

---

Actions:
❖ Invoke Stunt (Self-Repair): Remove Severe Consequence: Cerebral Container compromised | FP Cost: -1

FP: 1 - 1 = 0 | Stress: Tick 0 | Consequences: Minor (Nanofibre muscles overexertion)
Tag: @MrSkimobile