Touching grass is overrated. These new strangers are far more interesting, and Mouse quickly abandons her shortly-lived botanical curiosities to trickle in alongside the team.
There’s a glimmer of awe in her appraisal of the volunteers, particularly the toned muscle (and extra foot+ in height) that Zdenka boasts. She nods along with their stated motivations, before musing, with a touch of clear naiveté, “I ALWAYS WANTED TO PUNCH A RACIST IN THE FACE. IT'S LIKE ITS OWN REWARD.” Of course, there’s no way she’d actually survive the fray herself, but it’s certainly a nice daydream to hold onto.
Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
From their position down the hill, Mick begins to rise warily at the overheard conversation, still not entirely convinced by the events unfolding before them. The members of Zdenka's team are smeared in a rough scatter across the hillside, their backs turned to Mick as they face the six other members of the ork's band of miscreants. Mick issues a sharp sniff of their nose, which scrapes across the rocks and equally craggy, harsh relief.
Letting the paramilitary group know they'd had the drop on them. It's a real power move.
Letting the paramilitary group know they'd had the drop on them. It's a real power move.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Zdenka's (or rather, Conrad's) Roadmaster is a pristine, gleaming chunk of machinery. More tank than transport, the entire body is clad in reinforced panels that have been joined seamlessly. The imposing craft sits on a set of six all-terrain run-flats with armored hub covers. In the gloom of wilderness moonlight it looks like a slumbering predator.
The inside is considerably spartan, composed of two rows of bench seats facing one another. The passenger compartment is separated from the driver's, but the driver is visible through a small window connecting the two.
Zdenka's subordinates climb into the escort vehicle, a GMC Armadillo. Zdenka herself waits patiently for the team to clamber onboard before taking the final seat in the rear of the Roadmaster and shutting the door.
The Roadmaster shudders as the engine engages. Axel perks up, the sounds suggesting that the powerplant has been modified. A rhythmic growl accompanies the forward momentum of the vehicle. The scenery whips by the window as the small convoy barrels down the valley.
The inside is considerably spartan, composed of two rows of bench seats facing one another. The passenger compartment is separated from the driver's, but the driver is visible through a small window connecting the two.
Zdenka's subordinates climb into the escort vehicle, a GMC Armadillo. Zdenka herself waits patiently for the team to clamber onboard before taking the final seat in the rear of the Roadmaster and shutting the door.
The Roadmaster shudders as the engine engages. Axel perks up, the sounds suggesting that the powerplant has been modified. A rhythmic growl accompanies the forward momentum of the vehicle. The scenery whips by the window as the small convoy barrels down the valley.
-
Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel still hasn't found time to wipe the grin off of his face. He eyes the interior of the Roadmaster, cataloging differences and similarities with his project back home, taking note of clever design decisions that have allowed these rebels to cram an impressive amount of assorted gear into the interior of the vehicle without anything getting in the way. He prods Mouse with an elbow, "that, that right there. See how they crammed a satellite uplink into the roof liner? Couldn't even spot it from outside. Signal for days." His ears actually visibly twitch when the engine fires up.
"Heyoo, that's different," he says cheerily, his verbal age now having risen from overexcited toddler, to overstimulated ten year old who wants to tell everyone about his favorite cartoon. "What have you got in this thing? Doesn't sound stock. Wait, wait, don't tell me," he says, finger in the air in a "just a minute" gesture. He listens. "Still too high to be something like Saeder-Krupp, though the Straßenficker is pretty close... Mitsuhama has some power plants that could fit the bill..." His eyes light up. "Oh, please tell me this wagon is being pulled around by a 'liberated' nipponese motor."
"Heyoo, that's different," he says cheerily, his verbal age now having risen from overexcited toddler, to overstimulated ten year old who wants to tell everyone about his favorite cartoon. "What have you got in this thing? Doesn't sound stock. Wait, wait, don't tell me," he says, finger in the air in a "just a minute" gesture. He listens. "Still too high to be something like Saeder-Krupp, though the Straßenficker is pretty close... Mitsuhama has some power plants that could fit the bill..." His eyes light up. "Oh, please tell me this wagon is being pulled around by a 'liberated' nipponese motor."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
It may be generally true that Mouse doesn’t like being touched, but this very specific instance, namely Axel pointing out a juicy piece of tech, she clearly doesn't mind. Eyes wide, she nods along, genuinely interested in the rigger’s shop talk, leaning back on her hands as she does, as if forcing herself not to touch anything. Up until now, she’s always learned about machinery by taking it apart, and to do that in a situation like this would be generally frowned upon, especially when she clearly has an enthusiastic tutor.
“HOLD UP, JOYBUBBLES, YOU GOT ALL THAT FROM THE PITCH?” Axel’s read warrants a double take, as she herself struggles to listen and hear more than just the growl of an engine. That particular talent reminds her of decking adepts, rumored to distinguish the sounds of distinct keypresses from mere audio recordings.
She relaxes back into her seat, musing idly, "CHIP TRUTH, IF I HAD GEAR LIKE THIS, YOU COULDN'T GET ME TO LEAVE." In fairness, this has less to do with her familiarity with vehicles (of which she has none), and more of her willingness to live in a heavily armored box so long as it has sufficient matrix access, but the sentiment still holds.
“HOLD UP, JOYBUBBLES, YOU GOT ALL THAT FROM THE PITCH?” Axel’s read warrants a double take, as she herself struggles to listen and hear more than just the growl of an engine. That particular talent reminds her of decking adepts, rumored to distinguish the sounds of distinct keypresses from mere audio recordings.
She relaxes back into her seat, musing idly, "CHIP TRUTH, IF I HAD GEAR LIKE THIS, YOU COULDN'T GET ME TO LEAVE." In fairness, this has less to do with her familiarity with vehicles (of which she has none), and more of her willingness to live in a heavily armored box so long as it has sufficient matrix access, but the sentiment still holds.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Zdenka raises an eyebrow at Axel and then grins. "You're gonna love Conrad. He's a total gear head. There's a race down in Baja: the Dustbowl Grand Prix. All souped up Roadmasters transporting fragile cargo across five hundred miles of rough terrain. The winner is judged by the place they finish in and the condition of their haul. He's a sponsor and even has his own team. I'm more of a biker, myself, but I can still see the appeal."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The mention of Conrad adds a slight wrinkle to Mouse’s reverie. She tells herself it’s just her usual anxiety, the way that old traumas shade present experiences, tingeing neutral flags with a crimson hue. Still, she can’t help but sense something peculiar in the way others speak of him… and the lack of any online photos to go off of.
“NE, SO YOU’VE ACTUALLY MET MR C. SHARPE? IN THE FLESH?” She chooses her words carefully, trying to bury her natural suspicions under a thick veneer of idle curiosity and good business etiquette. “ANYTHING WE SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE CHAT WITH HIM?”
“NE, SO YOU’VE ACTUALLY MET MR C. SHARPE? IN THE FLESH?” She chooses her words carefully, trying to bury her natural suspicions under a thick veneer of idle curiosity and good business etiquette. “ANYTHING WE SHOULD KNOW BEFORE WE CHAT WITH HIM?”
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
"Oh sure," Zdenka says. She folds her arms behind her head and leans back against the bench seat, eyes closed. "All of us captains do a pow-wow with the regional commander at the top of the month. Conrad insists on being there. He's a great guy. A little strange, but aren't all rich folks strange? Likable strange, at least."
She glances at Mouse through one open eye. "Conrad ain't the one you have to worry about. It sounds like you're already in with him, on account of the personal escort. No, if you're gonna step lightly, do it around the commanders. Freedom fighters get funny around mercenaries. But as you're guests of Conrad, I wouldn't worry too much."
She glances at Mouse through one open eye. "Conrad ain't the one you have to worry about. It sounds like you're already in with him, on account of the personal escort. No, if you're gonna step lightly, do it around the commanders. Freedom fighters get funny around mercenaries. But as you're guests of Conrad, I wouldn't worry too much."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mercenaries. It takes a breath before he realizes the designation is leveled at them, Taipan included. The word rolls around in his head, trying to attach itself to his own self-image with only partial success. He'd never considered it before, but he supposes it's an accurate if insufficiently complex designation for what he has become, and the realization conjures a host of emotions. Chief among them, sadness at being untethered from a larger purpose, shame at the insinuation of being only out for himself, and yet, beneath the surface, dangerous exhilaration at the freedom being beholden to no one.
"Thanks for the advice. We will tread lightly." He peers at Yung meaningfully, "Just as long as none of the commanders are overly enthusiastic about fashion."
"Thanks for the advice. We will tread lightly." He peers at Yung meaningfully, "Just as long as none of the commanders are overly enthusiastic about fashion."
Last edited by Stephen on Tue Jan 04, 2022 10:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
The journey to Sonoma and, ultimately, Blue Dog Ranch is not without its hiccups. An hour out, a call comes in on the Golden Army's frequency: a new Imperial Army checkpoint has been established. The team spends most of the night parked in the ruins of a drive-in tri-d theater while Zdenka and her people monitor the airwaves.
When it's clear that the name of the game is the waiting game, Zdenka breaks out freeze-dried noodles and warm beer. One of the freedom fighters manages to jury-rig a tri-d player to the sand-blasted platform and the whole wagon party watches a glitchy version of Laser Queen II: Moons of Masochista.
Shortly before dawn the word comes in that the Imperial Army has dispersed, called away to shut down yet another riot. The convoy departs, but not before the Roadmaster's driver demonstrates the considerable power of his ride for Axel by doing doughnuts in the dirt. Reiya opts to sit that one out, choosing instead to spend some time in a wide open field, gazing at the stars.
Then, it's back on the road. The hills begin to level out, replaced by gigantic solar array fields that dominate the horizon. The motorcade takes a wide berth around Sacramento for obvious reasons. During the journey, Zdenka points out a silhouette in the distance-- the Yuba Biodome, a massive arcology owned by an eccentric billionaire. Gradually Montane becomes desert, then grassland. Although the freedom fighters avoid passing through major urban areas, the team observes the odd isolated community: some tribal, some religious, and some just solitary. Clusters of mobile homes, yurts, and pueblo houses congregate together like herd animals on the ranging plains.
There are signs of occupation, too. Burned out husks of cars, angry messages scrawled on crumbling overpasses, and curls of smoke in the distance. Riots, Zdenka explains.
Dawn breaks as the convoy enters Sonoma county, swinging in from a side-road through sun-dappled orchards. They pass a winery where a fleet of drones are watering grapevines. The weather is warm, the air thick with a floral fragrance.
The first glimpse the team gets of Bluedog Ranch is a wide range of chaparral hillsides, golden under the endless sky. Wild lilac and rhododendrons distributed liberally give the impression of a Van Gogh. The ranch smells of earth and honeysuckle. Rows of neatly manicured manzanita frame the winding driveway.
Halfway up the drive, two Ares Warspite sentry drones lurk menacingly in the brush. The formidable defenders are squat behemoths of steel and sensors, each equipped with twin mini-guns. The midday sun gleams off their polished hulls and missile racks. Both drones swivel to follow the vehicle as it passes.
Blue Dog Ranch's driveway leads to a cluster of buildings, all steel and glass. The main house is a massive structure, looking more like a museum than a home. Armed security personnel prowl the grounds, eyes alert behind mirror-shades, Ares Alpha rifles at the ready. The prevailing uniform seems to be one of desert camouflage.
The front courtyard sits on a substrate of stones, a sort of Zen garden of cacti and blue sage. Two giant marble shisa sit on either side of the front door, one baring its fangs, the other observing silently.
Gravel crunches under the Roadmaster's massive tires as it creeps up to the perimeter of the courtyard and then lurches to a halt. Zdenka opens the rear door to a flood of sunlight. She strides across the courtyard and speaks with one of the security guards, who nods in reply and heads indoors.
Upon her return to the Roadmaster, Zdenka says, "Welcome to Blue Dog. If you wait in the courtyard, someone will be along to show you inside." She smiles at the team. "Wasn't such a bad road trip, no? Maybe I'll see you guys again. I'd stay for a beer but I'm due out on patrol."
When it's clear that the name of the game is the waiting game, Zdenka breaks out freeze-dried noodles and warm beer. One of the freedom fighters manages to jury-rig a tri-d player to the sand-blasted platform and the whole wagon party watches a glitchy version of Laser Queen II: Moons of Masochista.
Shortly before dawn the word comes in that the Imperial Army has dispersed, called away to shut down yet another riot. The convoy departs, but not before the Roadmaster's driver demonstrates the considerable power of his ride for Axel by doing doughnuts in the dirt. Reiya opts to sit that one out, choosing instead to spend some time in a wide open field, gazing at the stars.
Then, it's back on the road. The hills begin to level out, replaced by gigantic solar array fields that dominate the horizon. The motorcade takes a wide berth around Sacramento for obvious reasons. During the journey, Zdenka points out a silhouette in the distance-- the Yuba Biodome, a massive arcology owned by an eccentric billionaire. Gradually Montane becomes desert, then grassland. Although the freedom fighters avoid passing through major urban areas, the team observes the odd isolated community: some tribal, some religious, and some just solitary. Clusters of mobile homes, yurts, and pueblo houses congregate together like herd animals on the ranging plains.
There are signs of occupation, too. Burned out husks of cars, angry messages scrawled on crumbling overpasses, and curls of smoke in the distance. Riots, Zdenka explains.
Dawn breaks as the convoy enters Sonoma county, swinging in from a side-road through sun-dappled orchards. They pass a winery where a fleet of drones are watering grapevines. The weather is warm, the air thick with a floral fragrance.
The first glimpse the team gets of Bluedog Ranch is a wide range of chaparral hillsides, golden under the endless sky. Wild lilac and rhododendrons distributed liberally give the impression of a Van Gogh. The ranch smells of earth and honeysuckle. Rows of neatly manicured manzanita frame the winding driveway.
Halfway up the drive, two Ares Warspite sentry drones lurk menacingly in the brush. The formidable defenders are squat behemoths of steel and sensors, each equipped with twin mini-guns. The midday sun gleams off their polished hulls and missile racks. Both drones swivel to follow the vehicle as it passes.
Blue Dog Ranch's driveway leads to a cluster of buildings, all steel and glass. The main house is a massive structure, looking more like a museum than a home. Armed security personnel prowl the grounds, eyes alert behind mirror-shades, Ares Alpha rifles at the ready. The prevailing uniform seems to be one of desert camouflage.
The front courtyard sits on a substrate of stones, a sort of Zen garden of cacti and blue sage. Two giant marble shisa sit on either side of the front door, one baring its fangs, the other observing silently.
Gravel crunches under the Roadmaster's massive tires as it creeps up to the perimeter of the courtyard and then lurches to a halt. Zdenka opens the rear door to a flood of sunlight. She strides across the courtyard and speaks with one of the security guards, who nods in reply and heads indoors.
Upon her return to the Roadmaster, Zdenka says, "Welcome to Blue Dog. If you wait in the courtyard, someone will be along to show you inside." She smiles at the team. "Wasn't such a bad road trip, no? Maybe I'll see you guys again. I'd stay for a beer but I'm due out on patrol."
-
Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Despite driving into the kind of danger that could only be described as "above his paygrade", Axel finds himself more relaxed than he's been in weeks. Perhaps it's the time in the vehicle, surrounded by the steady thrum of the vehicle's power plant. A cybernetic heartbeat reverberating through a plasteel womb. He blows a kiss to the drones as they enter the compound. "One day..."
<<Mouse, if this Conrad guy ends up not being on the level, let's steal all his drek. All of it.>>
Axel pushes down the beginnings of a shameful hope that Conrad is, in fact, not on the level.
<<Mouse, if this Conrad guy ends up not being on the level, let's steal all his drek. All of it.>>
Axel pushes down the beginnings of a shameful hope that Conrad is, in fact, not on the level.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Yung steps out of the Roadmaster and into the courtyard, stretching his arms up high and letting them fall out wide, more a pantomime of a stretch than anything real. He lifts his nose to the air and inhales audibly. “Oye, when I retire, dis gonna be the place.” He says turning back to face the rest of the crew as they emerge from the vehicle. However this time, rather than his customary smile, he wears a serious expression.
“You might not think it, but I know about dis place, Sonoma, but man. I didn’t think something like this still existed. You know this place has a history for some of the best wine in the world?” As he begins talking about Sonoma and wine Yung’s spritely demeanor returns once again.
Yung moves around to the side of the Roadmaster, finding purchase with his foot on the right rear tire hub. He jumps up to grab the top edge of the roof before pulling himself atop the carrier. Then sits down with his feet dangling over the rear edge of the roof.
As he gazes off towards the vineyards he can’t help but chime in one more time, “I’m not really a religious guy, yeah? But if I were, I’d say this is God’s country.” He then spends the next few moments drinking in the panorama.
“You might not think it, but I know about dis place, Sonoma, but man. I didn’t think something like this still existed. You know this place has a history for some of the best wine in the world?” As he begins talking about Sonoma and wine Yung’s spritely demeanor returns once again.
Yung moves around to the side of the Roadmaster, finding purchase with his foot on the right rear tire hub. He jumps up to grab the top edge of the roof before pulling himself atop the carrier. Then sits down with his feet dangling over the rear edge of the roof.
As he gazes off towards the vineyards he can’t help but chime in one more time, “I’m not really a religious guy, yeah? But if I were, I’d say this is God’s country.” He then spends the next few moments drinking in the panorama.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick steps out of the Roadmaster, the gravel crunching under their boots. "No," they begin contemptuously. "This is rich man's country." The ork's use of gendered terminology is not unintentional. The trappings of extravagant wealth drip from every eve and pool in every exquisitely manicured flower cup, and it instantly pisses Mick off.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mouse can't suppress a wicked grin at Axel’s proposal. <<I mean, ethically speaking, it's impossible to get this rich on-the-level, so…>>
There’s still a lingering unease at the unknown nature of this mysterious benefactor and coordinator, and the obscene displays of wealth far surpass even the opulence of the train. Still, aside from the delicate curated gardens, which give the air a scent Mouse can only place as ‘fabric softener,’ at least some of that money has gone toward more practical purposes… namely the beautiful chrome toys milling about the premises. <<Surely, no one would notice if just one little patroller were to be misplaced, or reappropriated, or suffer a totally routine on-the-job incident and thus require disposal.>>
She quickly thinks better, at least in the immediate presence of the omnipresent surveillance of the estate, and appends: <<...for the purposes of any theoretical infosec goons snooping on these comms, that was a joke.>>
Of course, from the mischievous glint in each stolen glance toward the mechanical sentries, to the slight fidget in her gait, it’s clear she had meant every word.
There’s still a lingering unease at the unknown nature of this mysterious benefactor and coordinator, and the obscene displays of wealth far surpass even the opulence of the train. Still, aside from the delicate curated gardens, which give the air a scent Mouse can only place as ‘fabric softener,’ at least some of that money has gone toward more practical purposes… namely the beautiful chrome toys milling about the premises. <<Surely, no one would notice if just one little patroller were to be misplaced, or reappropriated, or suffer a totally routine on-the-job incident and thus require disposal.>>
She quickly thinks better, at least in the immediate presence of the omnipresent surveillance of the estate, and appends: <<...for the purposes of any theoretical infosec goons snooping on these comms, that was a joke.>>
Of course, from the mischievous glint in each stolen glance toward the mechanical sentries, to the slight fidget in her gait, it’s clear she had meant every word.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Thoryne lumbers out of the Roadmaster, contorting himself to fit through the door. The chassis shifts as its relieved of his considerable bulk. He's closer to the ocean now-- he can feel it. Closer to the familiar. The waters of California are not unknown to him and he's anxious to return; to be in his element.
"Sure has a lot of muscle," he mutters as he surveys the property. "Something tells me it's not just Saito that this man's wary of." Thoryne tucks a wad of snuff into his cheek and looks at Yung, who has seated himself on the roof of the Roadmaster. "Wine, huh? I've probably pilfered a load or two from that very vineyard we passed." The big troll grins, wallowing in nostalgia.
He gives one last appreciative wave to Zdenka and meanders over to the courtyard to inspect the shisa.
"Sure has a lot of muscle," he mutters as he surveys the property. "Something tells me it's not just Saito that this man's wary of." Thoryne tucks a wad of snuff into his cheek and looks at Yung, who has seated himself on the roof of the Roadmaster. "Wine, huh? I've probably pilfered a load or two from that very vineyard we passed." The big troll grins, wallowing in nostalgia.
He gives one last appreciative wave to Zdenka and meanders over to the courtyard to inspect the shisa.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick snickers to themself and suggests to Mouse, "From the look of this place, this bougie drekbag might just have something to drink that wouldn't turn you green."
Last edited by John on Wed Jan 05, 2022 7:27 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Yung sighs audibly, disappointed that his brief moment of reinvigorating respite has been interrupted by comm chatter and unpleasant conversation. He takes a moment to gauge whether saying anything will result in a positive outcome, unlikely, but still. "You know, say what you will about the drek I pull, I don’t mind, I’m baka. But one thing I know, don’t bite the hand that feeds you, eh? This man, Mr. Sharpe, he given you no reason to dislike him, ne? Oh, so he’s done some drek, and made some bookoo nuyen, frag dat guy, huh?"
He blows a raspberry before continuing. "Dis how the world work, y’all understand that right? What the fuck you all doing this for, kindness and compliments? Frag that, you doing it to get paid, just like me. So don’t drek on this man’s hospitality, don’t jaw about gankin’ his stuff, past or present, even if it’s a joke." Yung's calm and composed countenance reaches a tipping point, his mocha cheeks show a slight tint of red. He pauses long enough to take a couple of breaths and steady his emotions.
"Now I spit too much veritas, so tell me to shut up and go fuck myself, yeah?"
He blows a raspberry before continuing. "Dis how the world work, y’all understand that right? What the fuck you all doing this for, kindness and compliments? Frag that, you doing it to get paid, just like me. So don’t drek on this man’s hospitality, don’t jaw about gankin’ his stuff, past or present, even if it’s a joke." Yung's calm and composed countenance reaches a tipping point, his mocha cheeks show a slight tint of red. He pauses long enough to take a couple of breaths and steady his emotions.
"Now I spit too much veritas, so tell me to shut up and go fuck myself, yeah?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick snorts. "There's a world of difference between doing what you have to to get by, and doing so much that you wind up..." The ork gestures to their surroundings. "So yeah. If you've got a problem with me having a problem with this, I invite you to go fuck yourself. And not because you spit 'veritas,' but because you're either full of shit or just don't get it. I don't know which is worse."
Last edited by John on Wed Jan 05, 2022 10:19 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
One of the many security guards patrolling the grounds approaches. He's human, heavily tanned and wears camouflage fatigues and a set of mirror-shades. Dermal plating augmentations are obvious from irregularities in the skin of his scalp, which is hairless. The enforcer hovers a polite distance until Yung and Mick's spat ends, at which point he approaches. "He'll see you now," he says simply.
The team is led across the courtyard and through the front doors, which are twin plates of glass interlaced with intricate titanium ribbons. The glass slides apart, carried by some pneumatic mechanism. Immediately a cool blast of temperature controlled environment hits the team.
Conrad's foyer is a circular room framed by winding steel stairs that climb the outer perimeter. The floor is primarily Saltillo tile, with hand-made mini-mosaics interspersed, depicting things like dolphins and coyotes. A chandelier made of recycled military drone parts hangs from the vaulted, glass ceiling. There are a number of steel-ribbed umbilical corridors off of this area, presumably corridors to deeper into the house. Directly opposite the front door is a marble sculpture of some nameless soldier, kneeling in snow, his face steeped in sorrow.
Another pneumatic hiss signals the arrival of the host. One of the umbilical hallways to the side of the stair opens and two figures enter the foyer.
Conrad Sharpe is a short, portly man with a round face and fair complexion. Despite youthful features, a field of silver stubble betrays his advancing years. He sports a military cut, obscured almost entirely by a wide brim Stetson hat. The man's joviality is amplified by a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt sporting pineapples and luau dancers, which balloons out over a substantial beer belly. His casual demeanor is further accented by worn denim jeans and a pair of leather cowboy boots-- complete with spurs. An array of gold rings adorn his short, chubby fingers, each one containing a separate precious stone.
Conrad smiles. "Conrad Sharpe's the name, but my friends call me Tex. This tall drink of bad ass behind me is Anne-Marie, my sworn protector."
"Your paid protector," Anne-Marie corrects dryly.
Anne-Marie is exceptionally tall and lanky. Her features are as severe as her gaze, sculpted in a kind of cold beauty; a renaissance painting with cage fighter moxy. One side of her head is shaved, the other host to a tumble of dark locks that fall to the base of a long neck. Her broad, bare shoulders are covered in a battlefield of scars. She wears a sheer beige crop-top underneath a Kevlar vest and black tactical pants tucked into knee-high combat boots. Plainly visible are obvious signs of augmentations in the form of exposed jacks below her ears. A tattoo of Yggdrasil springs from her hip and wraps around the visible skin of her left side. Nestled against her thigh is a Colt Manhunter in a low-slung holster.
Conrad simply guffaws in response to the ribbing. He spreads his arms. "Welcome to Blue Dog Ranch! A friend of Ivan is a friend of mine. I hope the ride here wasn't too troublesome."
The team is led across the courtyard and through the front doors, which are twin plates of glass interlaced with intricate titanium ribbons. The glass slides apart, carried by some pneumatic mechanism. Immediately a cool blast of temperature controlled environment hits the team.
Conrad's foyer is a circular room framed by winding steel stairs that climb the outer perimeter. The floor is primarily Saltillo tile, with hand-made mini-mosaics interspersed, depicting things like dolphins and coyotes. A chandelier made of recycled military drone parts hangs from the vaulted, glass ceiling. There are a number of steel-ribbed umbilical corridors off of this area, presumably corridors to deeper into the house. Directly opposite the front door is a marble sculpture of some nameless soldier, kneeling in snow, his face steeped in sorrow.
Another pneumatic hiss signals the arrival of the host. One of the umbilical hallways to the side of the stair opens and two figures enter the foyer.
Conrad Sharpe is a short, portly man with a round face and fair complexion. Despite youthful features, a field of silver stubble betrays his advancing years. He sports a military cut, obscured almost entirely by a wide brim Stetson hat. The man's joviality is amplified by a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt sporting pineapples and luau dancers, which balloons out over a substantial beer belly. His casual demeanor is further accented by worn denim jeans and a pair of leather cowboy boots-- complete with spurs. An array of gold rings adorn his short, chubby fingers, each one containing a separate precious stone.
Conrad smiles. "Conrad Sharpe's the name, but my friends call me Tex. This tall drink of bad ass behind me is Anne-Marie, my sworn protector."
"Your paid protector," Anne-Marie corrects dryly.
Anne-Marie is exceptionally tall and lanky. Her features are as severe as her gaze, sculpted in a kind of cold beauty; a renaissance painting with cage fighter moxy. One side of her head is shaved, the other host to a tumble of dark locks that fall to the base of a long neck. Her broad, bare shoulders are covered in a battlefield of scars. She wears a sheer beige crop-top underneath a Kevlar vest and black tactical pants tucked into knee-high combat boots. Plainly visible are obvious signs of augmentations in the form of exposed jacks below her ears. A tattoo of Yggdrasil springs from her hip and wraps around the visible skin of her left side. Nestled against her thigh is a Colt Manhunter in a low-slung holster.
Conrad simply guffaws in response to the ribbing. He spreads his arms. "Welcome to Blue Dog Ranch! A friend of Ivan is a friend of mine. I hope the ride here wasn't too troublesome."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Taipan shakes his head grimly at Yung and Mick's exchange. If we can't figure out how to work with one another soon, this tension will boil over into violence. He gives a relieved sigh as the uniformed guard strides over to provide some distraction.
Upon the jovial man's introductions, Taipan inclines his head to both Conrad and Anne-Marie. "Pleased to meet you both.
The ride was no trouble in Zdenka's good hands, though the journey has been long." And tempers are frayed. Taipan bites back the urge to rush an inquiry into the details of their impending situation. "We thank you for your hospitality."
Upon the jovial man's introductions, Taipan inclines his head to both Conrad and Anne-Marie. "Pleased to meet you both.
The ride was no trouble in Zdenka's good hands, though the journey has been long." And tempers are frayed. Taipan bites back the urge to rush an inquiry into the details of their impending situation. "We thank you for your hospitality."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Ok Tio, jesus christo, all crunch and no fluff, man I musta really pissed him off.
Yung takes a moment to drink in the features and amenities of the foyer, slowly turning in a circle and letting out a low whistle before turning to face the unlikely owner and his champion. “Well Tex, it’d be a lie if I said it wasn’t a pleasure to meet ya, and likewise with the sentiments about Ivan. I believe I can speak for my other partners here when I say the hospitality you’ve shown has been more than kind.”
Damn, if I had one of those fedoras or trilbys I could do one of those Texas hat tips. Frag.
Yung walks over to get a closer look at the marble sculpture of the soldier continuing to talk as he walks. “And I might say that for at least one of us, the ride was a thrill they won’t soon forget, and given the chance he might bend your ear a little bout that Roadmaster that brought us here.”
He bends down to look closer at the face. “Exquisite detail on this.” He clicks his tongue.
“Oh, but I forget my manners.” Yung stands and walks slowly but deliberately over to Conrad and Anne Marie. “Miss Anne Marie, it's lovely to make your acquaintance.” He says, making a more formal bow, bending down with his right knee, one arm across his abdomen with the other behind his back. As he rises he looks up at Anne Marie with a coy smile, but barely manages to suppress a wink.
Yung takes a moment to drink in the features and amenities of the foyer, slowly turning in a circle and letting out a low whistle before turning to face the unlikely owner and his champion. “Well Tex, it’d be a lie if I said it wasn’t a pleasure to meet ya, and likewise with the sentiments about Ivan. I believe I can speak for my other partners here when I say the hospitality you’ve shown has been more than kind.”
Damn, if I had one of those fedoras or trilbys I could do one of those Texas hat tips. Frag.
Yung walks over to get a closer look at the marble sculpture of the soldier continuing to talk as he walks. “And I might say that for at least one of us, the ride was a thrill they won’t soon forget, and given the chance he might bend your ear a little bout that Roadmaster that brought us here.”
He bends down to look closer at the face. “Exquisite detail on this.” He clicks his tongue.
“Oh, but I forget my manners.” Yung stands and walks slowly but deliberately over to Conrad and Anne Marie. “Miss Anne Marie, it's lovely to make your acquaintance.” He says, making a more formal bow, bending down with his right knee, one arm across his abdomen with the other behind his back. As he rises he looks up at Anne Marie with a coy smile, but barely manages to suppress a wink.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick sticks to the rear of the pack, knowing that no good can come of asserting themself in the moment. They fail to suppress an eye roll at Yung's salutation of Conrad's bodyguard.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
With the arrival of Conrad Sharpe, a dozen anxious fever dreams are put to bed. As it turns out, he’s not, in fact, some malevolent faceless entity merely operating under the handle of a ‘Conrad Sharpe’. He’s just an old white guy with too much money and an abundance of interest in world affairs: not like one of those has ever caused problems.
Mouse steps up behind Yung, standing up straight, smiling politely under her mask, all of those obligatory niceties for meat-space introductions. Despite his earlier, unwelcome commentary on her kleptophile fantasies, Yung, to his credit, seems to have slipped into his role quite comfortably, and the decker even makes mental note of the chameleon-like way he adapts to this new contact. For once, it’s not his behavior, even his peculiar way of addressing women, that stops her cold. It’s Anne Marie.
It starts as a cursory scan of the hired muscle, a routine step in Mouse’s habit of compiling mental dossiers of her business associates. As soon as gaze lands on that tattoo, her eyes go wide, breath hitching in her chest. For the decker, the symbol is a recurring nightmare in miniature. Inky branches wrap across swaths of skin, embracing and framing the flesh, caging and suffocating the world within, ensnaring reality, limbs and delicate leaves reaching toward the heavens, spreading outward like a lichtenberg figure, branding the flesh like a dumpshock burn, a painted echo of her own scar tissue.
The heavy thumps of her meatspace heart against her ribcage pulls her back into reality. She swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of her staring, adjusts her footing, and forces the smile back onto her face. For once, Yung’s dramatics are a small mercy, drawing attention away from the awkward little decker, who’s surely just nervous in the face of such important new people. She dips her head, offering only a soft, “IT’S A PLEASURE. IVAN SPOKE HIGHLY OF YOU.”
Mouse steps up behind Yung, standing up straight, smiling politely under her mask, all of those obligatory niceties for meat-space introductions. Despite his earlier, unwelcome commentary on her kleptophile fantasies, Yung, to his credit, seems to have slipped into his role quite comfortably, and the decker even makes mental note of the chameleon-like way he adapts to this new contact. For once, it’s not his behavior, even his peculiar way of addressing women, that stops her cold. It’s Anne Marie.
It starts as a cursory scan of the hired muscle, a routine step in Mouse’s habit of compiling mental dossiers of her business associates. As soon as gaze lands on that tattoo, her eyes go wide, breath hitching in her chest. For the decker, the symbol is a recurring nightmare in miniature. Inky branches wrap across swaths of skin, embracing and framing the flesh, caging and suffocating the world within, ensnaring reality, limbs and delicate leaves reaching toward the heavens, spreading outward like a lichtenberg figure, branding the flesh like a dumpshock burn, a painted echo of her own scar tissue.
The heavy thumps of her meatspace heart against her ribcage pulls her back into reality. She swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of her staring, adjusts her footing, and forces the smile back onto her face. For once, Yung’s dramatics are a small mercy, drawing attention away from the awkward little decker, who’s surely just nervous in the face of such important new people. She dips her head, offering only a soft, “IT’S A PLEASURE. IVAN SPOKE HIGHLY OF YOU.”
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Reiya thought she was getting used to life as a runner. The rides in different vehicles bother her less, and though she leaves most communications to the others, it seems that her appearance —obviously Amerind, likely a magic user—gives her license to keep quiet and seem enigmatic. Fine by her.
The Blue Dog Ranch, however, stuns her. Reiya didn’t know it was possible to be that rich. The sheer amount of money and water it must take to grow some of the plants in the courtyard, let alone the rest of it, is staggering. She understands Yung’s appreciation, but shares Mick’s disdain.
The shaman pats one of the shisa, guardian dogs she learned about from an old book on Okinawan pottery Uncle Enzo showed her years ago, before following the team through the doors. She’s offended by the cowboy look this Conrad Sharpe seems to sport, but the beer belly and cheeriness offset the clothes. Anne-Marie, on the other hand, would be attractive to Reiya if it weren’t for the augmentation and the severity of her expression.
Warm welcome aside, Reiya keeps a wary eye on the two, on the guards, and on her fellow runners, given the recent sparks of tension. She nods to “Tex” and Anne-marie and stays silent, taking up her usual post not far from Mouse. Just in case.
The Blue Dog Ranch, however, stuns her. Reiya didn’t know it was possible to be that rich. The sheer amount of money and water it must take to grow some of the plants in the courtyard, let alone the rest of it, is staggering. She understands Yung’s appreciation, but shares Mick’s disdain.
The shaman pats one of the shisa, guardian dogs she learned about from an old book on Okinawan pottery Uncle Enzo showed her years ago, before following the team through the doors. She’s offended by the cowboy look this Conrad Sharpe seems to sport, but the beer belly and cheeriness offset the clothes. Anne-Marie, on the other hand, would be attractive to Reiya if it weren’t for the augmentation and the severity of her expression.
Warm welcome aside, Reiya keeps a wary eye on the two, on the guards, and on her fellow runners, given the recent sparks of tension. She nods to “Tex” and Anne-marie and stays silent, taking up her usual post not far from Mouse. Just in case.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Tex clasps his hands behind his back and rocks on heels. "First of all, let me thank ya'll for coming all this way. Now normally I'd give you a tour, wine and dine ya, but the clock's tickin'. That said, while we wait for the fella who is proposing this endeavor, the least I can do is offer ya'll some refreshments. Shouldn't be long, but in my experience waitin's always better with libations."
As Tex speaks, Anne-Marie surveys the team with an appraising eye. Tex looks over his shoulder at her. "Don't go thinkin' I don't know what you're doin', darlin'. Don't start with that dick measuring contest collyweston. If Ivan picked these folks, you can bet they're slicker'n owl shit."
"I didn't say anything," replies Anne-Marie. She waves her hands plaintively. Her gaze lands on Mouse and Reiya. "Besides, I'm not worried."
A chortling sound emanates from Tex's throat. "Horseshit and hogslop, A.M." He looks back to the group and beams good naturedly. "So, how about a few drinks? I reckon y'all are keen to pick my noodle about the sitchy-ation."
As Tex speaks, Anne-Marie surveys the team with an appraising eye. Tex looks over his shoulder at her. "Don't go thinkin' I don't know what you're doin', darlin'. Don't start with that dick measuring contest collyweston. If Ivan picked these folks, you can bet they're slicker'n owl shit."
"I didn't say anything," replies Anne-Marie. She waves her hands plaintively. Her gaze lands on Mouse and Reiya. "Besides, I'm not worried."
A chortling sound emanates from Tex's throat. "Horseshit and hogslop, A.M." He looks back to the group and beams good naturedly. "So, how about a few drinks? I reckon y'all are keen to pick my noodle about the sitchy-ation."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick's eyes narrow as they set upon Anne-Marie, ever convinced that they could turn the overpaid goon to paste with their bare hands. The mention of booze, though, is enough to bring the ork out of the moment. It's not that they're desperate for a drink, but rather that a drink would be distraction enough to keep from stewing in their discomfort and disdain for this environment. Speaking up, the ork calls out, "Mick. And I'd ask for a heavy pour of something expensive, but I'm guessing that's all ya got here at Blue Dog." The adept appraises the rest of the team. "So whattaya say we go with something extra expensive?" They manage to force a grin that is felt antagonistically, but that they hope reads playfully.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Tex and Anne-Marie lead the group through one of the strange, oscillating metal portals. The hallways themselves resemble the interior cavity of some industrial serpent, comprised of slender steel archways between panes of glass or geometric configurations of some unknown material. The lighting is artificial daylight, seemingly routed through some configuration of prisms. It's all very Jonah and the Techno-whale.
On the other side of this particular umbilical is a long open space, one full half of which is an un-interrupted piece of structural plexi-glass. The view beyond is that of Blue Dog Ranch's idyllic scenery: flower-strewn hills dotted with Coastal Oak. The floor is some type of transparent resin, providing visibility several meters down and a clear view of a vast network of roots that culminate in a four foot diameter trunk of a Sequoia sempervirens that stands as the centerpiece of this room. A sort of flexible mesh of composite has been installed where the ceiling meets the trunk, serving to weatherproof this chamber. The tree's foliage is located at a point high above the team's head (and the house's roof) and provides natural shade.
Across from the panoramic window is a teak bar, inlaid with turquoise accents. Multiple rows of shelves behind the bar showcase bottle after bottle of expensive spirits. From local wines to imported sake, it seems Conrad has it all. In a small alcove at the center of the bar are a row of beer taps.
Anne-Marie grabs a bottle at random and walks past wordlessly. She swings her legs up and sits on the far end of the bar, facing away from everyone.
Tex maneuvers his girth around the edge of the bar and stands behind it. He rubs his hands together. "What's your poison?"
On the other side of this particular umbilical is a long open space, one full half of which is an un-interrupted piece of structural plexi-glass. The view beyond is that of Blue Dog Ranch's idyllic scenery: flower-strewn hills dotted with Coastal Oak. The floor is some type of transparent resin, providing visibility several meters down and a clear view of a vast network of roots that culminate in a four foot diameter trunk of a Sequoia sempervirens that stands as the centerpiece of this room. A sort of flexible mesh of composite has been installed where the ceiling meets the trunk, serving to weatherproof this chamber. The tree's foliage is located at a point high above the team's head (and the house's roof) and provides natural shade.
Across from the panoramic window is a teak bar, inlaid with turquoise accents. Multiple rows of shelves behind the bar showcase bottle after bottle of expensive spirits. From local wines to imported sake, it seems Conrad has it all. In a small alcove at the center of the bar are a row of beer taps.
Anne-Marie grabs a bottle at random and walks past wordlessly. She swings her legs up and sits on the far end of the bar, facing away from everyone.
Tex maneuvers his girth around the edge of the bar and stands behind it. He rubs his hands together. "What's your poison?"
-
Drew Buddy
- Posts: 1488
- Joined: Sun Oct 30, 2011 7:06 pm
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Axel starts to make a beeline toward the opulently appointed bar, but stops in his tracks. Axel is a creature of the metahuman world. His crib was towers of glass and steel, his bottle soykaf, his sandbox piles of refuse and rubble containing modest riches, if you know not just where to look, but how to look. He's lived a life firmly ensconced in the bowels of a giant, artificial organism that the little living motes within call "Seattle." Nature in his life to this point has largely consisted of mold breaking down vehicle upholstery, and scrappy little weeds and vines that flourish in the cracks, the between-places that the city provides. Axel always felt a little bit of a camaraderie with the latter. Life finding a way to survive, and even thrive, in society's blind spots. And in doing so, breaking down that society, that rubble, just a little bit at a time.
What stands before him doesn't live in the cracks. If anything, the house being built around it is the exact opposite of the notion. If Axel in the last day has doubled his lifetime count of "trees seen," then what stands before him broadens that category to literal heights he couldn't imagine. He stares dumbfounded at the sequoia, mind in full vapor lock. After a long pause, he finally remembers how his throat works well enough to mutter, "huh."
His feet remember motion, and he moves haltingly toward the bar, eyes still locked on the tree. "I thought you could only see things like that in a museum," he says to what he hopes, but can't see, is Conrad. "Impressive. Mercs and freedom fighters at your disposal, custom gear for days," he waves his hand at the trunk, "and that. I'm honestly surprised you haven't shown up on Saito's radar, omae." The mention of gear knocks a memory loose, "and you've got to tell me what you've managed to cram under that Roadmaster's hood."
What stands before him doesn't live in the cracks. If anything, the house being built around it is the exact opposite of the notion. If Axel in the last day has doubled his lifetime count of "trees seen," then what stands before him broadens that category to literal heights he couldn't imagine. He stares dumbfounded at the sequoia, mind in full vapor lock. After a long pause, he finally remembers how his throat works well enough to mutter, "huh."
His feet remember motion, and he moves haltingly toward the bar, eyes still locked on the tree. "I thought you could only see things like that in a museum," he says to what he hopes, but can't see, is Conrad. "Impressive. Mercs and freedom fighters at your disposal, custom gear for days," he waves his hand at the trunk, "and that. I'm honestly surprised you haven't shown up on Saito's radar, omae." The mention of gear knocks a memory loose, "and you've got to tell me what you've managed to cram under that Roadmaster's hood."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
"The tree is still alive, you know," says Anne-Marie, still facing the corner of the room. "Only the first meter is resin, the rest is a nutrient gel cultivating micro-organisms that pass oxygen to the roots. You could say this house was built around it."
"Damn straight. Would be a travesty to cut down a beaut like that," Tex says. He withdraws a tumbler from beneath the bar and turns to survey the bottles behind him. "Speakin' of the ol' General, he ain't stupid enough to hassle this county. Too many folk up here what can afford muscle. Naw, he spends his time terrorizin' workin' folk. We've had a squad or two come this way, but--"
Anne-Marie chuckles darkly.
Tex taps a finger against a curvaceous whisky bottle and snatches it off the shelf. "Well, let's jus' say, he'd have to commit more troops than he can afford, and for what?" He guffaws. "What's Saito gonna do with a bunch of vineyards? He's busier than a cat coverin' crap on a marble floor keepin' the city folk in line."
Whisky splashes into the glass as Tex pours. Upon the mention of the Roadmaster he looks up at Axel, his face bright. "Well slap my ass and call me Suzie! Are you a fellow en-thu-siast?"
There's an audible grumble from Anne-Marie. Her locks tumble as she shakes her head. "Here we go..."
"Ain't nothin' prettier than the sound of a souped up transport, hoo-wee." Tex raises a hand and leans forward, in pantomime of a conspiratorial whisper. "I use mil-spec gunship motors in my racers." He slaps Axel's shoulder. "Makes 'em run like a freshly gelded pony!"
"Damn straight. Would be a travesty to cut down a beaut like that," Tex says. He withdraws a tumbler from beneath the bar and turns to survey the bottles behind him. "Speakin' of the ol' General, he ain't stupid enough to hassle this county. Too many folk up here what can afford muscle. Naw, he spends his time terrorizin' workin' folk. We've had a squad or two come this way, but--"
Anne-Marie chuckles darkly.
Tex taps a finger against a curvaceous whisky bottle and snatches it off the shelf. "Well, let's jus' say, he'd have to commit more troops than he can afford, and for what?" He guffaws. "What's Saito gonna do with a bunch of vineyards? He's busier than a cat coverin' crap on a marble floor keepin' the city folk in line."
Whisky splashes into the glass as Tex pours. Upon the mention of the Roadmaster he looks up at Axel, his face bright. "Well slap my ass and call me Suzie! Are you a fellow en-thu-siast?"
There's an audible grumble from Anne-Marie. Her locks tumble as she shakes her head. "Here we go..."
"Ain't nothin' prettier than the sound of a souped up transport, hoo-wee." Tex raises a hand and leans forward, in pantomime of a conspiratorial whisper. "I use mil-spec gunship motors in my racers." He slaps Axel's shoulder. "Makes 'em run like a freshly gelded pony!"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick's regard of the tree is only fleetingly interrupted by the talk of despots and oligarchs, their rote conflicts far more normal in the ork's brain than the sight of the towering arboreal behemoth. The sequoia stands before them, as it had since long before either Saito or Conrad's reigns, and hopefully would long after each was over. Building a house around the tree strikes the ork as a testament to Conrad's narcissism– his belief that he could somehow contain it. Mick smiles at the thought of the old man's death, his time passing pointlessly by under a comparatively insignificant rotation of sunrises and sunsets, his house moldering on its struts, the giant sequoia breaking free and ripping it apart from the inside, millimeter by millimeter into time unknowable. The adept steals a glance at Reiya, whose own reveries Mick suspects are much like their own.
Mick takes a half-seat at the bar, leaning sidelong on its cold surface with one elbow, only allowing half their attention to break from the most important being in the room. "Whattaya got for tequila?"
Mick takes a half-seat at the bar, leaning sidelong on its cold surface with one elbow, only allowing half their attention to break from the most important being in the room. "Whattaya got for tequila?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Yung approaches the ancient conifer in a mix of awe and reverence, he places a hand on the rough bark and runs his fingers through the crevices. He closes his eyes and reaches out in astral space, curious to see what kind of signature such an ancient thing would bear.
(( Astral Perception ))
After a few moments of bonding with the tree he turns his attention to Axel, “Bud, you sure do love engines, but one of those might be a little big for t-bones britches don’cha think, hah! Anyway, told ya this guy loves his machines.” He says, sliding to the seat next to Axel and giving him a firm pat on the back.
Yung peruses the selection of fine spirits and alcohol before turning to Conrad, “Ya know Tex, I’d love nothin more than to sample some of your own fine vintage.” He says, rapping his knuckles along the countertop. “And speaking of Saito, how can he afford much more of the same? By the sounds of it the regular folk of FreeCal have had it up to their ears with his bulldrek. Must have some mighty deep pockets or support from some big players.”
Yung steals a glance at Reiya, in an attempt to gauge her opinion of the ancient tree serving as the focal point of the room.
(( Astral Perception ))
After a few moments of bonding with the tree he turns his attention to Axel, “Bud, you sure do love engines, but one of those might be a little big for t-bones britches don’cha think, hah! Anyway, told ya this guy loves his machines.” He says, sliding to the seat next to Axel and giving him a firm pat on the back.
Yung peruses the selection of fine spirits and alcohol before turning to Conrad, “Ya know Tex, I’d love nothin more than to sample some of your own fine vintage.” He says, rapping his knuckles along the countertop. “And speaking of Saito, how can he afford much more of the same? By the sounds of it the regular folk of FreeCal have had it up to their ears with his bulldrek. Must have some mighty deep pockets or support from some big players.”
Yung steals a glance at Reiya, in an attempt to gauge her opinion of the ancient tree serving as the focal point of the room.
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
It's certainly a tree.
In astral space, the tree looks much as it does normally, albeit composed of coalescing energy patterns. Though not as bright or intricate as a person's, it's still pleasing to the eye. Yung can even make out glittering specks within the trunk-- insects, perhaps.
Tex withdraws a bottle from the top shelf and sets it down in front of Mick. The glass vessel is squat and contains gold flakes inlaid in the glass. "Sordid Sombrero Platinum. Mezcal from Zacatecas. They only made five hundred bottles."
In response to Yung, Tex says, "That sum'a'bitch has several things goin' for him: the undyin' loyalty of his troops, support from Humanis Policlub and unofficial backin' from some of the triple A's." Tex spits on the ground after mentioning Humanis. "Saito's stuck tighter'n hair in a biscuit-- can't go back to Nihon, on account'a his goin' rogue. He knows if he can't keep Cali from slippin' through his grubby paws that he's done fer."
Tex places another glass in front of Yung and pours him three fingers. "The Golden Army's gained ground and the regular folk're at their breaking point. I reckon this is the year. Ol' Zal can tell ya more when he gets here."
In astral space, the tree looks much as it does normally, albeit composed of coalescing energy patterns. Though not as bright or intricate as a person's, it's still pleasing to the eye. Yung can even make out glittering specks within the trunk-- insects, perhaps.
Tex withdraws a bottle from the top shelf and sets it down in front of Mick. The glass vessel is squat and contains gold flakes inlaid in the glass. "Sordid Sombrero Platinum. Mezcal from Zacatecas. They only made five hundred bottles."
In response to Yung, Tex says, "That sum'a'bitch has several things goin' for him: the undyin' loyalty of his troops, support from Humanis Policlub and unofficial backin' from some of the triple A's." Tex spits on the ground after mentioning Humanis. "Saito's stuck tighter'n hair in a biscuit-- can't go back to Nihon, on account'a his goin' rogue. He knows if he can't keep Cali from slippin' through his grubby paws that he's done fer."
Tex places another glass in front of Yung and pours him three fingers. "The Golden Army's gained ground and the regular folk're at their breaking point. I reckon this is the year. Ol' Zal can tell ya more when he gets here."
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mick takes the bottle of Mezcal and uncorks it, taking the absence of a glass as tacit invitation to drink from the bottle. It's the sweetest, smoothest drink the ork has had in their life.
"Any idea when Zal will come around?"
"Any idea when Zal will come around?"
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
Mouse glides alongside her fellow members of the party, notably quiet, even as the resident shrinking violet. Under normal circumstances, she would be eagerly serving as the straight-man tsukkomi in Yung’s conversational stylings, or gleefully delving into her teammates’ expertise, whether it be Axel’s mechanical genius or Mick’s comparative street-savvy. Instead, she’s dedicated the entirety of her energy toward maintaining a professional demeanor, even as she’s haunted by the afterimage of the World Tree and her own hypervigilance.
She takes her seat and sets to self-distraction, scanning the rows of expensive bottles for anything familiar, or barring that, enticing. Failing at both, she instead turns to Tex, who, to his credit, appears adept at handling his roles as host, subject matter expert, and now bartender. Removing her mask to reveal an inquisitive smile, she prompts, “IF YOU HAD TO PICK JUST ONE THING TO DRINK FROM NOW TO ETERNITY, WHAT WOULD IT BE?” She leans forward, elbows on the bar, tenting her fingers in front of her. “THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO TRY.”
She takes her seat and sets to self-distraction, scanning the rows of expensive bottles for anything familiar, or barring that, enticing. Failing at both, she instead turns to Tex, who, to his credit, appears adept at handling his roles as host, subject matter expert, and now bartender. Removing her mask to reveal an inquisitive smile, she prompts, “IF YOU HAD TO PICK JUST ONE THING TO DRINK FROM NOW TO ETERNITY, WHAT WOULD IT BE?” She leans forward, elbows on the bar, tenting her fingers in front of her. “THAT’S WHAT I WANT TO TRY.”
Re: Run #2 - Between The Rock and a Hard Place
"Shit, darlin'. That's easy." Tex turns and retrieves an ornate, gourd-shaped bottle from a cupboard below the bar. The labeling on the spirit is clearly old, judging from the yellowed and crackling edges. Their host lovingly removes the cork and coaxes a small portion into a shot glass. "Good ol' fashioned Tennessee bourbon. Nothin' finer on God's green Earth."
Tex nudges the shot glass towards Mouse. "Now I ain't braggin' but that there's about a thousand nuyen. But I don't mind sharin' with friends of Ivan. Besides, you're cute as a button!" The latter statement is delivered in an avuncular fashion, free of any innuendo or lecherous intent. Anne-Marie darts a look and Mouse catches an actual, tender smile on the imposing woman's face.
Tex nudges the shot glass towards Mouse. "Now I ain't braggin' but that there's about a thousand nuyen. But I don't mind sharin' with friends of Ivan. Besides, you're cute as a button!" The latter statement is delivered in an avuncular fashion, free of any innuendo or lecherous intent. Anne-Marie darts a look and Mouse catches an actual, tender smile on the imposing woman's face.