Run #7: Through the Looking Glass

[GM Nick]

Rawhide shines his micro-light on the CEO's desk and flips through some documents.

"You know, someday I'm going to give up this work. I don't want to end up getting geeked in some soulless wage slave factory."

[John]

Rifling through file folders, Max replies,

"You wouldn't have it any other way, Rawhide-- unless you gave up this work for out-and-out combat, all channels all the time."

[GM Nick]

error_memoryroutine ( int#; )
line 36
init.subroutine 'dbot.41'


The office shudders as something enormous stomps into the corridor.

Rawhide spins and clicks off his micro-light.

"...the frag was that?"

[John]

Max closes his eyes and whispers to himself over and over again,

"Please no doombot please no doombot please no doombot..."

Peering out from the room where the team is searching, Max tries to ready himself for anything that may meet them.

[GM Nick]

Tyros, having dumped the security guard in a supply closet, flattens himself against its door frame.

A Prometheus drone clomps clumsily into the corridor, twin mini-guns possessing about an inch of clearance with the adjacent walls.

[John]

Max retracts his glance and makes himself invisible to the killing machine with great haste! Grimacing, he whisper-yells,

"DREK!"

Max's eyes comb the room quickly. They still need to find the contract-- can't run yet.

[Drew Buddy]

Up on the beam, Doc starts slowly and quietly patting himself down to see if there are more magazines with other ammunition on him.

[John]

Whispering to Tyros and Rawhide, Max impresses with great urgency,

"Search for ventilation ducts! Buildings like this always have ducting large enough to crouch-run through that lead to the adjacent office!"

[GM Nick]

After a thorough search, Max deduces that there are no suitable exits from the office aside from the door. Rummaging through his pockets, he is disappointed to find a silenced Ares Predator loaded with stick'n'shock ammunition.

Rawhide peeks between the blinds at the behemoth drone that has almost reached the office.

"Frag."

[John]

The urgency with which Max is tearing through the office is increasing to a fever pitch! At this point, with no real way to defend himself, Max is looking more to hide than anything else.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc finds a spare magazine of tranquilizer darts.

Trying to move slowly and silently, he pulls it out of the pouch. Gripping his legs around the beam, he winds up, and hurls the magazine as far across the factory as he can.

[GM Nick]

The Prometheus stomps past the CEO's office, towards the origin of the noise.

Tyros shrinks into the supply closet, as Max and Rawhide crouch underneath the office windows.

[John]

Max whispers angrily to Rawhide,

"So is this fraggin' contract here or what?! Did you forget something?!"

[GM Nick]

Rawhide stares dumbly at Max.

"Did I forget... Huh, kinda seems like I might've..."

Memory Test (4)

[WIL (2) + LOG (2) + Evidence (1) = 3]
6 1 2 6 5

"I'm not sure. Let's find that contract and get out of here."

[John]

Max's frustration is high,

"Where else could it be? We've torn this fraggin' office apart!"

[GM Nick]

A document that clearly was not present previously catches Max's eye. As he reaches for it, words appear across the top.

RUN. THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU. GO NOW.

[Drew Buddy]

< What's the status? > Doc comms from his position on the beam.

He watches the retreating back of the Doombot, and casts a glance around the rest of the facility to spot any movement.

< Any luck finding it? >

[John]

Terror crosses Max's face as he comms to the group,

<No time! Run for it! This is gonna get ugly!>

[GM Nick]

init terminateProgram;
client_Disconnect status 1;


The office walls at the end of the corridor fall, like dominos. A squadron of Renraku Red Samurai emerge from the cloud of plaster dust, converging on the runner's location.

[GM Nick]

Rawhide ducks as an assault cannon shell takes out the wall behind him.

<Tyros, can you cover our retreat? I don't have any live ammunition!>

[Drew Buddy]

< What the frag are Doombots AND Red Samurai doing in a fraggin' cola bottling plant!? >
Doc comms.

Doc looks at the layout of the facility, and tries to plot the best escape route for the others.

[GM Nick]

Dash, who is somehow next to Max, pulls an egg-roll out of his pocket and munches on it thoughtfully.

"This is pretty exciting stuff. I am sort of sad that the real Dash Danstar won't be here to see it."

[John]

Max looks to the facsimile of Dash with vexation before aggressively punching him in the face.

[John]

Max shouts to Rawhide,

"Rawhide! Do you remember any other exits in the building?! You must be forgetting something!"

[Drew Buddy]

Doc gets on the comm.

< Rawhide, do you remember the briefing for this mission? Think back. >

[GM Nick]

An Ares MP laser cuts a blinding arc over Rawhide and Max's heads as it severs the office wall.

Rawhide winces as his flakes of drywall rain down on to his face.

"I... I can't recall..."

[John]

Max returns fire with a couple of rounds almost blindly and then turns back around to Rawhide. Giving him a decisive slap on the cheeck, Max shouts,

"Think, god dammit!"

[GM Nick]

Memory Test (3)

[WIL (2) + LOG (2) = 3]
5 6 4 5

Rawhide's eyes widen.

"Oh...frag! The canisters! The space station! Where are we--"

[GM Nick]

[ Unknown ]

One by one, your eyelids lift, blearily revealing your new surroundings. Ferrocrete walls surround you, teeming with braided optical cables. A state-of-the-art generator hums quietly at the opposite side of the room, next to a table laid out with surgical implements and vials. As each of you attempt to locate one another, you're horrified to find that each runner has been strapped to an upright gurney and manacled at both ankles and wrists.

Tyros can't see much, on account of the mage-mask that has been securely fastened over his large head.

Every runner is wearing a surgical gown and a strange type of leather cap, studded with contacts and wreathed in cables that drape across the gurneys and trail across the floor into some dark recess.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc mentally reaches for his commlink, with the intention of scanning for his drones, smart guns, and any other signals.

[GM Nick]

Doc's mind reels slightly at the effort. He's clearly been drugged. The commlink is active, though disconnected from everything but the team's PAN.

[John]

Max, considerably more used to the feeling of being drugged than any of his cohorts, struggles against his restraints.

[GM Nick]

Escape Artist Test (6)

[Escape Artist (2) + AGI (8) + Drugged (-2) = 5]
5 5 2 4 5 3 5 6

Try as he might, Max can't force his way out of the manacles.

[GM Nick]

A figure moves past the gurneys and over to the table. It's a Caucasian man with no distinguishing features, apart from the tattoo of a rising sun on his forehead. He wears a simple linen robe. He hums mindlessly as he runs his fingertips over the various surgical implements.

An otherworldly voice seems to drift out of the walls. "I informed you that the proto-type BTL equipment was inferior. My argument has been validated."

The robed man bows his head. "I am so very sorry, my deity. It was all we could acquire on such short notice. The delusion construct--"

"Has failed. I knew a micro-cycle before it concluded. Your redundancy is unhelpful."

"Apologies, deity. Were you able to acquire what you desired?"

"No. The subjects are exceptionally willful. I have collected much valuable information but not the specifics that I sought."

The robed man turns to look at the team. Max quickly shuts his eyes.

"What is to be done with them, o' deity?"

"Eradication. My cycles are needed elsewhere. This tedious multi-tasking is wasteful."

The monk bows deeply. "It will be done."

[John]

Max pipes up,

"Yo-- Friar Tuck! Shouldn't you be in mountains making beer or something?"