COMPLETED: California Dreaming

[John]

Max stands inside the chopper still, stowing Marlowe Mk. II. As he turns to walk away, he rubs his fingers over the weapon briefly. Max has spent a lot of time on the range and in the combat sim with the weapon, and has gotten very well acquainted with its feel and capabilities. The elf steps decisively out of the chopper and squints at the scenery, thinking that he has never once enjoyed himself in California. 'Maybe if I ever came here for reasons other than killing that could change... but I doubt it.' Overstreet feels naked. A feeling of power surges through him thanks to the augmentations, and the new battle spines on his armor are a handsome addition to his defenses should things get messy hand to hand, but he's used to having his shotgun at his side. He pushes the feeling of helplessness from his mind, and says,

"Whatever you think is best. Lead the way."

[GM Nick]

The enclave resembles a stadium from the outside. The ferrocrete walls and cocertina are a stark contrast to the suburban paradise that likely exists within. As Doc surveys the enclave through his vision-magnified Phalanx visor, he feels a tense knotting in his stomach. It's as if he's experiencing deja vu from a particularly unpleasant dream.

[Stephen]

Val stares up at the spartan walls of the enclave, shifting the retractable stock of the SMG under his coat to a more comfortable position under his arm. The weight of the Ares Predator in the concealable holster at the small of his back gives him some small measure of comfort should he have to give up its larger counterpart. His gaze sweeps over his comrades to finally come to rest on Doc.

"Well, 'mano. Let's go have a tour of the 'clave and clear your good name while we're at it, eh?"

[Drew Buddy]

Adams nods,

"Wish we knew more about this place. An unguarded drainage ditch would go over nicely right about now," he says, scrutinizing the wall for any features that might indicate alternative access.

[GM Nick]

From a cursory glance, there seem to be security cameras along the perimeter of the wall, located strategically so as to minimize blind spots. Though, judging by the approximate positioning of cameras, Doc would suppose that there might be an extremely thin corridor of approach that one could use to avoid detection. The primary entrances are automatic gates that open and close as vehicles pass in and out. Doubtless, the main entrances are subject to an array of various scanners and would prove very difficult to bypass.

An irritated sigh passes Doc's lips. No drainage ditches to be seen.

[GM Nick]

Memory Test (5) (Doc)

[LOG (8) + WIL (4) + PuShed (1) = 6]
1 5 6 3 2 4 5 5 5 1 5 2 4

Doc closes his eyes and plumbs his memory, trying to stir up something useful from the inky depths of that era of his memory. Again, the nausea emerges and an acrid, acidic taste fills his mouth. Eyes shut tight, he can feel his pulse pounding out in his temples. He fights the urge to vomit and continues trying to recollect.

A flash of a hallway--no, a tunnel. Subterranean, probably. Escape tunnels built during the secession of California, in case of invasion. Doc's eyes snap open, burning with the after-image of BDU-clad men proceeding cautiously through dark, confined spaces.

[Conway]

Lying prone on a small rise a short distance from the sleeping Hound, Sinjin surveys the enclave in high resolution zoom through his visor's on screen display. The upper stories of the communities tallest buildings are visible above the topline of the wall, along with various streetlights that line the undoubtedly perfect avenues of the private city. Noting the main entrance to the facility, Sinjin continues to scan along the low border of the wall, looking for demarcation points of the enclaves power and water sources.

"Town like this ought to have a centralized power and water grid, along with the accompanying service tunnels and a point of egress for waste water. We might have to step in a little drek, but Id bet we can find a way in through the sewers. Barring that, its a long climb over that wall." he says doubfully.

Continuing to survey the compounds exterior, Sinjin looks in the low lying areas outside the towns walls for evidence of any landscaping that would indicate a drainage system or canal work.

((EDIT: DAMMIT you guys are always too fast for me! Nick feel free to delete, just wanted you to know that i DID write something ;P ))

[Drew Buddy]

Adams grins at Sinjin through the nausea.

"Think I may have one better. Older 'claves like this one were built right around when the UCAS kicked our-- I mean Free Cal's-- ass out of the union. They started building all kinds of stuff to not protect themselves not just against the riff-raff, but against invading armies." He snorts, "and Saito went and proved that they weren't as paranoid as everyone thought, when he snagged the Bay and most of the area surrounding it."

He pauses, briefly lost in a memory.

"Short of it is, they set up escape routes that bypass all of this," he gestures at the walls, gates, and security cameras. "And I think I might know where to find the exit of one of these routes. Come on."

He stands up, and starts walking toward the back side of a low hill, guided less by memory, and more of a vague sense that it's the right way to go.

[GM Nick]

Sinjin materializes out of the chaparral to match Doc's stride. For a brief second, Doc sees a soldier in FreeCal fatigues keeping pace with him. A quick double-take confirms that it's just the team's resident man-handler and ne'er-do-well.

[John]

Max stalks silently along behind the doctor and the ninja, keeping a sharp eye out for anything of concern.

[Elliott]

Tyros trods along after the team, his claymore hilt protruding behind his head having refused to leave it behind. After a few steps, he shimmers and disappears, doing his customary invisibility act (invis, deflection and reflexes up as normal).

"If we can't find this tunnel, I can fly us over the wall, but we would have to be careful not to be observed in the process..."

[John]

(( Drek! I should have had Tyros hang onto Marlowe Mk. II for me. ))

[Conway]

The ruthenium polymer coating carefully layered over Sinjin's battle armor plays tricks with the moonlight, bending and shifting the reflection in irregular ways that make the Adept seem to appear hazy, like he's out of focus. He treads quietly behind Adams, who seems to be guiding the group by dowsing wand as much as anything else. The field medics posture is tight, and his legs move stiffly forward. For an instant, Sinjin thought he had seen a tremor in Doc's hand. Whatever the man had been through, Sinjin did not envy him having to relive it now. The team moves forward in stride at close formation, confident in Adams' instincts.

[GM Nick]

A stained concrete fixture protrudes from the base of a low hillside, affixed with various municipal regulations and requisite warning signs. A heavy steel door occupies it's face, barred over with a multitude of mechanical locks.

"They use these tunnels, you know. Stay frosty."

Doc jerks his head to identify the source of the voice, but finds no one.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc shakes his spinning head, hoping to coax it back into stability.

Something isn't right. Well, scratch that. Nothing's been right for the last day or so.

His eyes refocus on the door and its array of deadbolts and padlocks.

"How quaint," he says. "Max, you still have that autopicker? Unless someone has a better idea?"

[Stephen]

Val runs an appraising glance over the barred door. For all his expertise in getting into where he shouldn't be, he's slightly embarrassed to be kept out by a relic of times past.

"Not really my thing. I seem to recall seeing a set of lock picks lying on Sinjin's bunk, though."

[Conway]

"What, these ol' gals? Wouldn't leave the house without my beauties, would I?" Sinjin says to his lockpicks, which he displays fondly in his hand.

"Best do this quickly. Tyros, we'll need a hand with the grate I think, once these locks come off."

Sinjin sets to work, murmuring softly under his breath to coax the locks free.

[Elliott]

Tyros stands beside Sinjin as the sturdy by surprisingly dexterous Ork goes to work on the locks. He hopes the team can get to the bottom of who is behind this slanderous attack on Doc quickly. It's not good for business. But outside personal threats to team members does seem to bind them all even more tightly together, which is what saves lives when the going gets really tough out in the field. Needless to say, whoever is responsible for this detour is going to get put down hard and fast.

Tyros puts his two meaty hands on the steel door's grip, eyeing the rust lines around the edges to gauge just how much effort it will take to open.

"Ready when you are."

[GM Nick]

Locksmith Test (Sinjin)

[Locksmith (3) + AGI (5) = 3]
6 6 1 2 1 6 1 3

With a flourish of his wrist, Sinjin waggles a tension wrench and the last padlock falls free. The team can tell by the childish grin on the adept's face that he enjoys his work a little too much.

[Drew Buddy]

"Nice work," Adams says to the physical adept, "here's hoping it isn't rusted shut."

He takes a position at the door with the others, and starts pulling, digging his heels into the concrete.

[GM Nick]

Between Sinjin and Tyros' natural strength and Max's augmented musculature, the team manages to pull the massive door open. The sound of the fist-sized hinges creaking is reminiscent of a tomb door. A pungent, mildewy odor emanates from the pitch bowels of the evacuation tunnels.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc steps tentatively into the tunnel, bracing his mind for another flashback of a foreign memory. He scans low and high with ultrasound and infrared, looking for tripwires or lasers.

"With any luck, maybe they've forgotten about this route," he says, not really believing it.

[GM Nick]

A mixture of lichen and groundwater squelches under foot as Doc stalks carefully through the tunnel, taking point. Although the Phalanx combat visor provides an adequate (albeit ghostly) view of the tunnel, primal instincts compel him to move with one hand outstretched, fingertips splayed in a sensory gesture. His other hand is wrapped comfortingly around the grip on his Colt Cobra. Doc mentally checks and re-checks the SMG's payload via the smartlink's integrated AR interface--a nervous tic.

"Fragging Nipponese--they fight like cowards. How are we supposed to level the playing field with all of these rules?"

Doc grinds his teeth, suddenly feeling more than a little claustrophobic.

[Drew Buddy]

Why is this familiar?

He thinks back to the trid, and his own hidden memories revealing themselves. In the darkness, he can almost swear that his teammates are wearing Free Cal guard uniforms. The SMG feels heavy as fragments of different realities collide. He swallows, and thumbs the safety back on.

[GM Nick]

The grim surrealism is shattered by a mechanical clicking sound that comes from somewhere ahead, around a bend in the tunnel.

[John]

Max instinctively half-crouches, getting low so as to give himself a better center of gravity from which to attack. His hands are curled into claws and his senses sharp.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams presses against the wall on the inside of the bend, and clicks the safety back off. He reaches back and slips the Fly Spy from its pouch, subscribing it to his PAN before tossing it in the air. He orders it to slowly travel down the tunnel while he watches the feed in an AR window.

[GM Nick]

Doc can feel the cold concrete, even through the multiple layers of arachno-weave and carbon-kevlar plating. He shifts his position, the Phalanx helmet making a dull scraping sound as it encounters concrete. With bated breath, the team's medic does the hundred-yard-stare down the tunnel, his focus shifting constantly between his actual vision and the fuzzy AR window.

As the tiny drone careens around the bend, something silver flashes across it's optical sensor and Adams abruptly loses the feed. The shriek of tearing metal echoes down the tunnel followed immediately by a multitude of pounding noises that seem to be drawing closer.

[Stephen]

Val removes his hands from his ears after the sound of twisting metal subsides. He hastily begins a node scan in an early attempt to acquire the PAN or control node of whatever lurks around the bend.

[Drew Buddy]

Adams points the Cobra down the tunnel, sweat building up between his palms and the grip.

[GM Nick]

The shapes are slick, silver, and moving very quickly. Doc's smart-link reticule dances around the opaque outlines as the optical sensors in his visor attempt to carve out something meaningful. At about 20 meters, the objects become visible. A chill trills down Doc's spine and his thoughts snap back to the first time he worked with his comrades. Canine drones!

[Drew Buddy]

Holding the SMG in one hand, Doc opens a pouch on his armor with another, retrieving a small egg-shaped device.

"Val, do you think you can do anything about these guys? 'Cause if not, we're going to need to shut down everything electronic we have on us."

He steps out in front of the team, and crouches down.

"Here, doggy, doggy," he says in a singsong voice, lightly tossing the EMP grenade in the air and catching it again. "Who wants a treat?"

[Stephen]

Val gives an emphatic shake of his head, not taking his eyes off the metallic beasts scrabbling down the tunnel.

"Would take too long. Do it."

Val hastily begins shutting down his peripheral devices in an attempt to isolate them from the impending EMP blast.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc sends the command to all of his linked devices to shut down, before doing the same with the final node, his commlink.

He flips the safety off the detonation trigger, and spins the fuse dial down to zero seconds. Holding the grenade out to the side, with his thumb hovering over the activation switch, he steps further down the corridor toward the charging canines.

(( FYI, the core book says that cyberware will be unaffected by EMP ))

[Conway]

Sinjin flips open his helmet visor, blinking twice as his natural low-light vision compensates for the dimness of the old escape tunnel. Hastily he disconnects power from the suit, causing his earbuds to pop noisily in protest. The various illuminated diodes and holographic displays blink fitfully before going dark. Silver flashes advance down the corridor, like moonlit fish in a night stream.