@Izurich Lenneth, ART-ficer Workshop, Lower CityA lazy cat lazed outside the workshop as cats tend to do. The workshop was the usual modular box, barely bigger than a garage, and there were no signs outside hinting at what lay inside. The best artisans don’t need much, and rarely draw attention to themselves, and that's exactly why the Master chose the ART-ficer for his personal ripperdoc: his clinic wasn't much, and he didn't draw attention to himself. Save for his strange doorbell, that is. When it spotted Lenneth, the cat stretched its legs, then waddled inside, its neon-lit fur undulating in all the colors of the rainbow, 'nyaaa NYAAAA'-ing loudly as it went. "No, you stupid old cat, tell them to go away, business hours are from… What the--?" Derek Burris stopped in his tracks as he saw Lenneth’s battle-damage.
Frantic moments later she was laid out on his table, and his arms had opened up in an octopoidal arsenal of tools, whirring at the base of her skull and chassis like the fingers of a concert pianist. "I swear, that master of yours is going to be the end of you. My masterpiece.” The ripperdoc's face had softened from his usual gruff concentration as he looked onto Lenneth's doll-like face. Derek scanned the diagnostic readouts holographically projected above her. Stable vitals, and her system had performed a solid feat of auto-first-aid -exactly as he programmed it- but the stress on the systems were evident. "Even the finest creation has its limits, Lenneth, even those of my making," he said, as he plugged Lenneth into a recharge station with a face that was halfway between a preacher and your regular know-it-all at the pub. The cat purred as it jumped onto Lenneth’s lap. "And it’s not just the body that takes its toll, eh… I worry your master forgets that sometimes. No more playing the hero for at least a few days, doctor's orders.”
@EvilEdd1984 Benjamin Markus Zebrowski, Black Sun Neurostim Den"Blood is everything to us." Gretchen said. "So much can be told from just a drop of it: where you've been, what you're like, who your relatives are. And whether you’re born with a chrome stick up your arse, or from the tank, when it gets down to it, we all bleed the same. So this..." she gestured towards the sample taken from Ben's flesh. "You could call this our insurance policy, our oath, our essence."
Ben saw tiny lines of text scroll up at the back of Gretchen's iris, undoubtedly cross-referencing what he said with whatever data was available to them. She nodded. "At least you're not lying: quite the spotless record, your worst crime I'd say is getting drunk off of that cheap synthetic stuff. Interesting..." She then grew serious. "P.I. business, huh?" she said, one of her eyebrows lifting the slightest bit. She shifted her eyes to the guard behind him. Ben heard him stir for a moment, but then the door shut behind him, before opening again a short while later. The lanky man came back in, placed two glasses in front of them and a shared bottle - whisky, without the 'e' and all, and with a name on its label you couldn't pronounce even on your most slurring-drunk days,
the real deal, in other words. Then he left again with a bow, leaving the two alone. Gretchen poured both of the glasses, then bounced one of them towards Ben, and taking the other one, leaned back into her chair.
"We share a lot here, in the Blutwölfe. Shared blood, shared...
history." Ben swore he heard something akin to pain in her voice, even if it was supposedly bred out of her. "If you hurt one of us you hurt all of us. A
victory for one of us is the victory for
all of us. And a
transgression of one of us..." She looked at Ben with a piercing gaze. "I'll come straight to the point. We have reasons to believe there is a rogue element in our midst. Jäger-model, someone from my very own gene-seed. But with his...
own agenda. We believe he has been involved in unauthorized activities, disruptions, including the disappearance of valuable assets. His actions threaten the secrecy and stability of our organisation, and make a mockery of
who we are. I want you to find out who this is." She swirled her glass and raised it in cheers, never once having taken her eyes off of Ben. "Have you ever killed someone, Mr. Zebrowski?"
@AwesomeZero5 Kit Cochrin, In Virginia’s CarA little while later, Kit and Virginia were cruising in her car up to her office at a pace almost too leisurely for the chase Kit had just a short while ago. Rizzo had taken the previous car for the usual decommissioning protocol: fly it to one of their bought-off fabricator furnaces in the city, and watch the evidence be thoroughly reduced into its constituent components for creating other vehicles or foodstuffs. But not before grumbling things about disguises, cover stories and all the other details that they would have to think about, of course.
Finally, Virginia spoke up, still more business-like than anything. "You have no idea of the crew that’s coming. It’s the whole deal. Something big’s coming up. SatoCorp and Parker industries seem to be especially interested in going, then some small fries, Pleasure King Subach’s coming, all their lackeys will be there. As will ours, of course. Some NYSF infiltrants, no doubt, and then some shadowy figures we still haven’t identified yet. Do you have any in mind we should be wary about, having had an ear close to the ground the last few years?”
She smiled, fully realizing the awkward excuse of a question she asked, and for a second, Kit could see through the lawyer-boss facade when that usual mask of hers dropped for just that brief second. "I miss our talks, Kit. It pays well, up in the chrome towers, but you lose touch with…
it, you know.” She said, staring out into the vast neon landscape that stretched out in front of them.
@KazAlkemi Zain Anders, Sprocket’s ScraphouseV4ris Harm’s visor lit up in an angry red as Zain's knuckledusters sent sparks flying from its frame. V4ris stumbled, servos whirring, then they leapt behind cover and drew a sleek blaster, set to stun, which started to whine in an increasing pitch as it charged up to undoubtedly very painful power levels. "You’re making a big mistake, Anders!" Harm growled through their modulator. "You think Ratface is just gonna let this go? You’re an accomplice now, and we’re going to enjoy hunting you!" And Zain knew they meant it - their bounty hunter’s name wasn’t ‘Harm’ for nothing - they may have been a robotic creature more than a man, but their thrill of the stalking, the trapping, and the pain, was still just as great as any of the all-too-human psychopaths Zain knew. What’s worse, all
4 of its shard-mind bodies were.
"Zain, cover me!" Sprocket shouted as she dove behind the counter and frantically clicked and clacked at her terminal. The security shutdown activated, doors slammed shut, lights in the shop shut down, and the spider-bots leapt into action with a vengeance Zain didn’t think they had in them. They wouldn’t be much good against V4ris -cameras aren’t the best weapons- but they could keep him busy and distracted. Zain could hear Sprocket open a safe and grab the holo-cloak Anders indicated through her prompt, and with a final tap on her screen, the emergency exit opened to a narrow escape tunnel. "This way!" she shouted, as V4ris' blaster discharged its charged bolt.
@Expendable Niner, Lower City AlleyThe drone rattled and froze briefly in its flight pattern, as if it only noticed a bug had landed in it. Niner stumbled when the full countermeisures of its internal security systems hit her. Rho caught her just in time as she stumbled. The digital punch didn’t feel right, as if an entire networked security system mobilized against her instantly, not just the drone’s, but much, much more. She felt the digital tendrils run through her, feel at her, scan her, distract her, claw at her.
"Talk to me, Niner” Rho transmitted through their mental comm-link as she took a defensive position, her silenced rifle at the ready. "My heat-vision spots three guards coming this way, but they’re moving haphazardly, not tactically. We’re not being flanked. Can you divert them, or do I engage?” In the distance was Dex’ voice, only reduced to a noise of static now. Were they being jammed?
There was more going on here than simple implant manufacturing.
GM’s prompts and Actions:
- [@All] FP Refresh to at least your REFRESH rate, if you have more, you keep them all. Minor Milestone reached, CHOOSE from the following as a reward: RENAME a character aspect, OR SWITCH the bonuses of 2 approaches, OR REPLACE an existing Stunt, OR GAIN a new Stunt
- @Expendable: roll to hack/‘attack’ the drone/network (0 to merely stop the drone/countermeisures, 2 to take full control of the drone and scan the network), roll to divert/attack the oncoming troops (2 is success).
- @KazAlkemi: V4ris Defends Forcefully against Zain’s punch (1, gets 4 stress, incurred via Mild Consequence and 2 Stress). GM compels Zain’s Relationship aspect that Ratface finds out (accept to gain 1 FP, or refuse and try to talk your way out of it at a cost of 1 FP). Whatever you do (try to escape or keep attacking V4rus), roll 1 Defend roll against V4ris’ Forceful Attack (difficulty: 3).
- @AwesomeZero5: please describe a misadventure or a faction you had ‘Trouble’ with in the past.
