Azseth — Roleplayer Guild

Kyuzo sighed and didn’t spend much time mulling over what had happened because at this point it didn’t matter.  When drek hit’s the fan, the longer you stand there wondering why, the longer you stand there covered in drek.  Or something like that.  Frag, his mom used to say it better.

He pulled his Predator and gripped his trench knife, putting his shock knuckles on over the blade.  His combat HUD started to light up with activity.  As he walked, he pulled his mask up over his face to the eyes from the bottom and then hooded himself to cover his hair.  He didn’t want to be seen and identifiable as he intended on doing business around here.  

One he was all set with his gear and attire, he took off in a run, assuming and hoping that the other two would follow him at their own pace.  While Traction had her plan of the run and how things were going to go down, Kyuzo’s plan was slightly different.  On the streets, or in the apartment, Kyuzo wouldn’t piss on Traction if she was on fire.  But in the shadows, things were different.  He wasn’t leaving anyone behind.  While he would go ahead with the immediate plan, if things went south for Kali, his course of action would change.  He sure as hell wouldn’t leave Traction behind, and he had a lot more respect and history for Kali, so that was a no brainer to him.  

For now however, she was in no trouble and he knew Kali could take care of herself.  So not wasting any more time, he sprinted towards the door, threw a shoulder into it, and rushed inside.  

Yeah.  Kali could take care of herself...

Many moons ago...

Driving a beat up vehicle that he acquired, he made his way south from Detroit.  Once you’re out of a major city, things get really...weird.  Most of the roads are straight and seem to go on forever.  On those long stretches, it’s a mix of nothing, farms, old villages, small functioning edge-towns, and shells of vehicles in various state of abandon.

His vehicle was a big, old school 4 door with nothing futuristic about it.  Truth be told, it was the cheapest, easiest vehicle he could buy without leaving any kind of trail.  He could have thrown a rock over his should and hit any number of vehicles that would have been preferable, but, it is what it is.

He ripped down the roads, watching for any sign of danger but there seemed to be nothing.  Literally.  Nothing.  And that was a good thing because it wasn’t long into the drive that he started to feel run down.  Over the last few days, hell, the last few hours, he’d been through a lot.  Part of that “lot” included several fairly dramatic cyberware modifications to his body.  Under normal circumstances, he’d have been on bed rest for at least two days, most likely more.  In light of the circumstances however, that wasn’t an option.

So it wasn’t long into the drive that he decided to take it off the road and take a nap.  He ensured that the spot he pulled off was not easy to spot and allowed quick access to the road.  He pulled off and leaned the seat back, taking a few moments to play with his new cyberware and software.  The eye was linked to his deck and allowed him to see information via an internal HUD.  After navigated for a few moments and found an overlook program that monitored for sounds and visuals that would be a threat.  Moments later, he drifted off into sleep.   

Secured down to the hospital gurney, the ork came to and looked around.  He panicked slightly, but the drugs pumped into him kept him from doing too much too fast.  He felt groggy and looked over at someone who had to be a doctor.  He was a human, tall, lanky and pale.  He looked over and sneered.  “Ah.  It’s awake.  I hope you enjoy your new hand, compliments of Ares.”  His head rolled to the side and he vaguely remembered them cutting off his hand...and that was it.  There was a slight spike of anger for a moment, but the vital systems read that and induced some apathy by way of drugs.  “Ah, it’s upset.  Anyway.  Per instructions, you were also outfitted with a bomb.  In case you try to leave the employer, it detonates.  If you remove it, or your heart stops for any reason, it detonates.  And I know what you’re thinking, why not a cranial.  Cranials are so...”  He motioned with his hands mulling over a suitable word.  “Not cliché.  Uncreative.  It’s so easy to forget what is in the back of your head, you cannot see it.  This though.  You pick up your firearm, shake hands, piss, eat...you see it.  Hell, maybe you even have a nasty litter at home, and every time you touch something you love, you’ll see it.  And remember.  Now.  Go back to sleep....

Warning.  Possible threat incoming.  

The frag?

Warning.  Possible threat incoming. 

Then the sound woke him and he read the read warning message.

WARNING.  POSSIBLE THREAT INCOMING.

The horizon hid nothing as the quintet of rumbling combat bikes began to expand within his rearview mirror, chewing up the sparse vegetation as they made a beeline for the disoriented ork, cutting the most direct route from one stretch of highway to the next. With a disobliging sputter the turn-key ignition of Kaz's junker told him just what it thought about moving, distant potshots freckling the nearby asphalt.  He pressed and turned the key, not really familiar with the older model vehicles.  “Gotta be fraggin’ jokin’.  Man, you gods up there watchin’, this must be really funny.  Because you know, it’s not enough that my friend were killed, I had to leave my home, I lost my hand, then my arm, then my spirit totem.  No, you all are up there thinking how you can just keep this going, right?  It’s amusing.”

The car finally turned over and he smashed the pedal down and drove back onto the road, keeping the pedal pressed to the floor.  The old, heavy metal car seemed to be cruising at a leisurely pace though and the riders were catching up.  

“So yeah, don’t even let me get any rest.  Just send the roadside assistance to come help me out.  Because that’s what I need.  Not peace, or rest.  Just more drek.  MORE DREK!  Well, keep it up, frag it.  Let’s have some fun then.  I hope this really has you all entertained up there!”  He pulled out the weapons that weren’t bagged in the back seat or trunk, and arranged them appropriately.  He looked back and that’s when the rounds started plinking into the back of his vehicle.  “Fraggin’ awesome.”

The beached four door continues limping along the blacktop, losing ground to the raiders all the while. War-whoops climb in decibel as the group nears, words picked out between the volleys of gunfire that claim his wing mirror.  

"Trog looks like he needs a tow, Ozzy! Lace! Give em' a hand!" thrummed out what could only be a mad-woman, her voice wicked and joyful. It was hard to tell if the named riders were quick to comply or already firing by the time he heard the order; either or seemed like a secondary concern about the time a harpoon was homed in and launched.  

Driving in the middle of the road, he looked back through his mirrors, trying to get a count of the threats.  It was then that his Ares Smartsystem started to take over.  Kyuzo didn’t know what he walked out of Detroit with, but this stuff was cutting edge, mainly reserved for Ares Corporate Military, the ones sent when collateral damage wasn’t an option and results were all that mattered.  Smart was key, and not only that, but this tech began to form what Ares Tech called symbond.  A symbond was the entire system learning about the user and tailoring the way it ran accordingly.  If one soldier favored his right, it focused left, things like that.  

So it was almost a shock when the combat HUD put red target identifiers over 5 separate organic threats.  A moment later, a yellow identifier went over a weapon, identifying it as an unknown threat.  A moment later, it said POSSIBLE HARPOON.

“Possible har-fraggin-poon?  Are they driving the godamned Pequod?!”  He turned around and looked, trying to see what was going on, mainly out of habit, just in time to see the harpoon already mid-delivery.  Yesterday, he’d have been dead.  Today though, today he was sporting that new ‘ware.  Before he registered a though, his system identified the threat and as his body and smart system became more acclimatized to one another, it started doing things with less conscious thought.  So before he knew it, he was turned back to the wheel, shoulder against the door as the harpoon ripped through the vehicle and slammed into the dash.  He looked around, let out a whistle and said “that was cl--,” and was interrupted by the state of the art, 20th century life saving air bag system deployed, smashing him up under the chin and disorientating him.  Control of the vehicle was lost momentarily, but once again, his enhanced senses helped him gain control, even as he was blinking back tears, dust, and trying to catch his breath.  After a moment, he bit at the airbag out of frustration, then tore at it, all the while, the tempo of incoming rounds began to increase steadily.  After a few moments, he succeeded in ripping the bag out entirely and tossing it over his shoulder.  “Ok.  If you had THAT planned--I can’t lie, that was fraggin’ funny.  I can only imagine how it looked up there.”

Unanchored the viscous hook raked its way back through the interior, snagging on the passenger side seat with enough force to yank it against the back window. "Crow! Owl! Fish are biting!" announced the man helming the black Gaz-Niki Titan now playing tug-of-war with Kaz's Ford, a dwarven woman practically spilling out of the attached sidecar. As if on cue a pair of matching red Yamahas sprinted ahead, zig-zagging within inches of each other. 

The overborged elven razors stunted to either side of the straight-shot highway before bearing down on their respective handbrakes, coming to a full stop as they swung a set of combat axes with alarming sychronicity. The tungsten blades made short work of the sheet metal whizzing by them and exposed the wisdom of not footing extra nuyen for a sun-roof. Flanking the ever dwindling rental one of the twins echoed the shot-caller further down the convoy, treating Kyuzo to a tongue-in-cheek "You ran a toll few miles back!  Pay up chummer!" 

The vehicle actually increased its speed slightly and in response, Kyuzo reached in the glove box and pulled out and old flashlight and the driver’s manual, throwing both out at the elf more out of frustration than anything.  The elves both laughed, but the male had to swerve suddenly as Kyuzo jerked the wheel to avoid a heap of trash in the road.  

At this point, Kyuzo kept his eyes on the road, hunkered down to protect himself from incoming bullets.  He slipped the knuckles of his right hand through the trenchknife as the elf biker on his side approached.  As he crept in, the ganger didn’t see the ork moving.  At that point, he assumed the ork was too intent on the road to realize he had made his way in close to the car again.  He looked back and pointed at the ork, indicating to the others to watch.  He waited for the right moment, axe poised and then shot over suddenly to deliver what he only imagined would be his defining moment:  decapitating an ork at high speed in front of all of his gangers.  This was the stuff legends were made of.

Everyone even stopped shooting and it seemed everyone was holding their breath.  Everyone except Kyuzo.  His enhanced peripherals made him aware of the entire scene unfolding.  His fist clenched in the knuckles of the trenchknife, waiting...waiting...waiting…And at the last moment, he shot up and spun.  The hand of his left cyberarm intercepted the elf’s arm at the wrist, its grasp crushing.  In the same movement, his right arm slammed the trenchknife up under the chin and into the brain of the elf.

Initially no one reacted, not seeing the knife because of the speed and angles.  They didn’t know the fight was already over.  Not until Kyuzo ripped the knife out of the side of his opponent’s face, reached down, grabbed his Colt shotgun and emptied around into the elf’s face, just for good measure.  He even took the time to try to aim in the direction of those behind him, spraying them with bits of brains, blood, skull, and maybe a large pellet of buckshot or two.  

“You could have AXED me a little nicer.  WOOO!”

He sat down in the seat, tossing the shotgun to the floor just as the female elf shot in and lept into the passenger side of the car.  “I’ma kill you trog!”  She had the axe in her left hand and brought slashed at Kyuzo with it.  It was obvious that, trick riding, hopping up on drugs, and executing maneuvers a sane person would never attempt aside, these people had no real training.  It was because of the difference in training that he easily caught her arm in a similar fashion as the other.  His right hand caught her wrist and he noticed she was ‘wared pretty heavily.  It was flashy though, not hi-end.  The caught him with a left hook and he immediately wrapped his cyberarm over hers and pulled up visciously.  It didn’t break the arm cleanly off, but it bent the cyberarm so that liquid shot out, wires flashed, and she screamed painfully.  And it was just the beginning.  Not missing a beat, he slashed down at her elbow elbow joint with his cyberarm.

Cyberware Rule # 28:  High end ‘ware ALWAYS wins over cheap stuff.  Period.

The arm severed her arm cleanly and he lunged forward, smashing his head into her face and, with his left hand hurling her OVER the front of the car at the same time her threw the arm, still gripping the axe, behind him, hoping to hit something.  For a second, he stopped.  “Does that bitch have 4 ar—“  he was cut short though by the vehicle lurching and jumping as the female’s body went under the front of the car, her remaining arm smashing into the hood as she was dragged under, denting it severely.

“That was a new paintjob!”

Two down, three to go. A fusillade of SMG rounds had the ork driving blind, his seat in full recline just to keep something between himself and the gunman, though man was a bit of a stretch. Steadying an ARES switchblade across the handles of an equally flimsy looking EVO-Falcon boy let lose with one tight barrage after another from the bucking foldgun. The kid was running colder than the rest--a quiet thriller, go figure--he knew that as long as he kept on Kaz's ass he'd win the shoot-out. It was cut, dry and textbook; might've even worked on your average tusker. 

Kyuzo, hunched down in the seat, tried to put his shotgun up and hoped the spray would hit, but at the high speeds, the spread wasn’t enough, and they could see the gun come up and react.  He then opted to try shooting out both the front and back passenger side doors.  He shot at the hinges one after another and within seconds, both shot from the car.  The driver though, this was his kind of game and he expertly maneuvered around them, albeit narrowly.  In that brief moment, Kyuzo poked his head up and didn’t even have time to say anything.  He simply jerked the wheel to the left, attempting to avoid the burnt out husk of a car in the middle of the road.  He didn’t avoid it, but he managed not to hit head on.  When he contacted it, it sent it spinning and flipping into the air.  This time, the kid wasn’t fast enough and got a facefull of sheetmetal as a penalty.  Kyuzo hardly seen what happened, what with trying to keep control of the vehicle, but when he did, he looked back at the group and flipped them the bird, firing off a round with his shotgun just for good measure.  You know, the metaphorical exclamation point.  At this point, he put the seatbelt on, fastened the shotgun to his leg harness, put away his knife and started to look for a place to pull off.  He needed shelter, some kind of structure.  He knew he could survive a shootout with these drekheads, but the road was their territory.  

"Frag'n krovvy, chummer. Wet krovvy!" shouted the assumed ringleader, fanning a broadside into his back tire from no less than two wheelguns--hands three and four soon returned to ten and two. "Quit mirin' the mark an' just geek em' Kali!" bellowed the panicked remnants of her gang, he and the dwarfess still manning the thick steel cable threaded through Kaz's ride. "Better idea." countered the auric hued rider, overruling her bearded comrade with the finality only a bullet can offer. "Frag'n Bi-" the beta nearly managed, turning just in time to see Kali take reign of the steering and ground their towcycle; it was the pavement that interrupted her. As the heavy bike crashed its spokes swallowed up the tangled lead and reeled the speeding Americar into a warped metal embrace. 

There was no piece of ‘ware, soft or hard, that would have been able to avoid this.  Truth be told, he felt the car lurch out of nowhere, he was pretty sure the car rolled or flipped at least once.

He was buckled into his seat when he woke up and when he couldn’t find the button, he simply ripped it and fell out of the side of the car.  He heard footsteps on broken glass and went to pull his gun when the form lept at him.  He was groggy, and she was quick so she had an edge.  She’s lept onto him and mounted him, one of her hands gripping his cyberarm with what had to be magically augmented strength.  He went for his knife and that arm too was grabbed.  He took a moment, realizing he would have to overpower her…until a large firearm was pressed to his forehead by…another hand?

Before he can even think of a plan B as he feels yet another hand on the crotch of his pant…and this hand, it wasn’t groping for any kind of weapon. "You're just packin' all sortsa' fun toys aint'cha grunge? How bout' I take you for a ride?"

‘Yup...this bitch has four arms...’
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