Run #3 - The Smoking Gunwale

[Molly]

A shared camera feed blinks into the team comms, revealing a slightly fish-eyed view of Mouse as she perches Echo on one of the back seats, manually adjusting the little drone’s stance to optimize its view. Despite her being stuffed into the full yuppie cosplay, there’s a surprising calm to her demeanor, particularly as she reaches a finger toward the camera to give the drone the littlest of headpats. For a moment, her eyes dart to the side from behind a short curtain of false lashes, before a second window appears: revealing the familiar POV from the camera embedded in her glasses.

Twisting her head back to face the drone, she flashes a thumbs up to the feed, tinted lips curling to reveal the more familiar snaggletooth grin beneath. << Total concentration. >> She cocks her head back to her fellow passenger. "YOU READY TO JACK A BOAT?"

[MattL]

Yung delivers a genuine not bad frown,
"You did a good job lookin the part, don't let it go to your head." he says with a wink.

"Have to say, always wanted the opportunity to go for a Pacific pleasure cruise." He scratches his head before running his fingers through the locks. "Anyway, how long you think you need to crack their scanners, assuming that's the plan? Maybe you pretend to be asleep and I'll distract em?"

[Drew Buddy]

An AR window springs into being in Axel's vision. He grins when he sees a view of the inside of the rental car with a grinning Mouse giving a thumbs up. << Heh, is *that* what it looks like? >> He messages back.

He puffs his cheeks by breathing out through pursed lips, and runs his hands down the sides of the steering wheel. "So," he starts conversationally, "this is us." For not the first time, he wonders at this man of the cloth who has money not just to fund a mercenary group for foreign adventures, but to pay for several of them to sit and do nothing for the overall majority of their employment.

He scrunches up his eyebrows. "So does anyone remember why we're doing this the hard way? I can't shake the feeling that our hosts have directed us to the most inaccessible boats in a coastal nation of 80 million people." He glances at Achack in the rear-view.

[GM Nick]

Achak offers Axel a non-committal shrug. "I would have purchased a ship, personally. It's what I did for my first attempt."

The Amerind watches as the Triton scrapes over the curb and into the road. "Finding a private place to board the boat won't be an idle task. The entire coast is annexed among enclaves, with nearly every square inch accounted for. And if our friends are being pursued as they depart, we may not have the luxury of deciding where to trespass." He gazes at Axel in the rear-view. "We could take the initiative and secure a place... "

[Molly]

"DEPENDS ON WHAT ALL THEY'RE RUNNING." She answers Yung with a noncommittal shrug. "IF WE GET LUCKY? 5 SECONDS. AT NOT, MAYBE 30. BEST WE CAN DO IS SLOW ROLL THE APPROACH AND HOPE I DON'T FRAG IT UP." There’s a furrow in her brow, hesitation unbefitting of a decker about to engage in her second-favorite hobby.

"I'VE GOT A NEW TOOL THAT MIGHT SPEED UP THE PROCESS, OR AT LEAST MAKE IT EASIER FOR ME TO CRACK AND TALK AT THE SAME TIME, SHOULD YOU NEED THE BACKUP. IT'S JUST… UNTESTED."

"SPEAKING OF… " Her eyes peek open toward the adept, and she scooches toward him on her seat, with the curious energy of a teenager ready to gossip. "ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO DO IT? Y’KNOW- TAKE A FACEFUL OF NAVI'S LOVE-NECTAR?"

[GM Nick]

The exterior of Anchor Bay might be described as medieval, if it weren't so pristine. Towering ferro-crete walls surround sea cliffs, standing only slightly lower than the bulbous, geodesic domes of enclosed rooftop suites. Atop the walls are electrified cordons, stretching between anti-aircraft batteries spaced at regular intervals. It's a fortress city-state for the California aristocracy. Beyond the contours of the formidable palisades lies the endless cobalt of the Pacific. Although the approach is primarily asphalt, greenery has been transplanted in a neat row parallel to the exterior wall in the form of bermuda grass, toyon and common ivy.

Yung tugs on the steering wheel and directs the Triton on to the pristine frontage road. Holograms assail the viewscreen from hidden emitters in the asphalt, reminding him of the low speed limit. Now visible scuttling along the wall are cleaner drones; small arachnids with chrome carapaces that keep the salt and smog from clinging to the indefatigable veneer. Also evident are small silvery lumps conspicuously scattered among the grass-- quite obviously sentry turrets. As the car rolls along, Mouse imagines all the thousands of sensors probing their vehicle (and faces) and being piped into threat detection algorithms. She swallows and finds her throat has gone dry.

A sliding gate embedded in the wall serves as the visitor entrance. The way forward is blocked by a rolling jersey wall, flanked on either side by guard chateaus. In a design decision that is ostentatious at best and saccharine at worst, they are both modeled after Victorian architecture and resemble large doll houses. Directly above the visitor gate are a number of rectangular embossments; more turrets, no doubt.

As Yung brings the car to a gentle stop, a pair of figures emerge from one of the chateaus: one man and one woman. They are clad in the same uniform: a full set of off-white combat armor, closed helmets, and breastplates stenciled with Anchor Bay Customs. The officers move in tandem and with a fluidity that suggests excessive cybernetic augmentation. While they are both armed with Auto-Assault 16 shotguns, they keep the weapons pointed at the asphalt and approach casually. Mouse is suddenly reminded of retainers from old samurai flatvids and the wonderful irony of warriors observing etiquette.

The female guard (indicated by the pronounced breasts molded on her armor) steps up to the front of the Triton. The visor of her helmet is opaque, offering only a warped, fish-eye reflection of the windshield. If she's appraising the duo, it's impossible to tell.

"WELCOME TO ANCHOR BAY" she says. Her voice is routed through a modulator and is not entirely unlike Mouse's, albeit deeper. Her tone is impartial and utterly devoid of any ardor. "WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE TODAY?"

[GM Nick]

Meanwhile, in the chintzy interior of the Shiro, Achack seems distracted. A leather-bound journal is in his hands, which he studies intently. In the intervening minutes since departing Mr. Shen's, his only contribution to the conversation has been a series of contemplative sounds. After flipping through a dozen or so pages, the Amerind lifts his head.

"I may know of a place where we can access the beach privately. But it's not without risk."

[MattL]

Yung rolls down the window and slowly lifts his arm, propping it casually on the sill. He then raises his other arm in a similarly slow and deliberate manner to remove his glasses and resting it on the steering wheel. "Greetings officer." He nods, his tone is slow and deliberate, with pauses in his speech slightly drawn out. "I must say, I’m a little taken aback, Anchor Bay is even nicer than was described." He says, offering a casual smile. "But in answer to your question, the nature of our visit is mainly pleasure with the potential for a bit of business. My fiancé and I are in search of a bit of an escape before all the wedding formalities. As I’m sure you’re aware, things are…" He sighs "Well, tensions are high almost everywhere." He shakes his head as if to convey his disapproval of the current state of FreeCal.

"Anyway, a colleague of mine told me about this little slice of paradise and said that it’s a fine place to unload some spare nuyen and enjoy a little peace and quiet." He closes his eyes as he pokes his head very slightly out of the window, breathing deeply of the salty air. "I think it’s safe to say that the serenity of Anchor Bay is due in no small part to the exemplary security, which is a welcome change of pace." He says, offering a wink.

(( Any rolls needed for these guys will be Second Chanced ))

[GM Nick]

Dice

Yung - Disguise Skill Check
Disguise (1) + INT (4) + 3 (Convincing Attire)
1, 3, 4, 3, 1, 5, 1
1 hit on 7 dice (reroll)
~ second chance ~
1, 6, 3, 1, 4, 6
2 hits on 6 dice (( 3 hits total ))
~
Mouse - Disguise Skill Check
Disguise (1) + INT (5) + 3 (Convincing Attire)
2, 5, 5, 4, 5, 4, 5, 1, 2
4 hits on 9 dice
~
Yung - Impersonation Skill Check
Impersonation (1) + CHA (5) + 1 (Voice Control)
6, 2, 2, 6, 2, 2, 5
3 hits on 7 dice
~
Mouse - Impersonation Skill Check
Impersonation (6) + CHA (6) - 2 (Basement Dweller)
1, 3, 2, 1, 5, 2, 1, 2, 6, 3
2 hits on 10 dice
~
Mouse - Etiquette Skill Check
Ettiquette (1) + CHA (6) + 4 (Disguise) + 2 (impersonation) - 2 (Basement Dweller)
1, 5, 1, 2, 5, 3, 4, 2, 6, 6, 1
4 hits on 11 dice
~ second chance ~
5, 3, 3, 4, 6, 1, 6, 1, 2, 1
3 hits on 10 dice (( 7 hits total)
~
Yung - Etiquette Skill Check
Ettiquette (-1) + CHA (5) + 1 (Voice Control) + 3 (Disguise) + 3 (Impersonation)
3, 1, 2, 3, 6, 5, 5, 3, 2, 2, 3, 4
3 hits on 12 dice
~ second chance ~
6, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 4, 3, 3, 5
6 hits on 10 dice (( 9 hits total ))
~
Customs Offical Rodriguez - Perception Skill Check
Perception (4) + INT (5)
3, 6, 1, 3, 3, 2, 1, 6, 1
2 hits on 9 dice
~
Customs Official Luchenko - Perception Skill Check
Perception (4) + INT (5)
3, 3, 3, 2, 5, 4, 3, 2, 6
2 hits on 9 dice

The female customs officer waits patiently until Yung is done speaking. She then glances through the windscreen at Mouse, where her gaze lingers. Mouse has the distinct feeling that the woman is glowering behind the visor, but the officer's body language remains relaxed.

In the interim, the male customs officer has retrieved a composite briefcase from the chateau. He is in the process of bringing it over but stops abruptly at a hand signal from his female compatriot. She shakes her head at him. The male officer shrugs and retreats back into the chateau. Clearly, the (now obviously) senior officer didn't feel the need to break out the scanning equipment.

Yung successfully defeats the urge to flinch as the female customs officer steps up to him. She taps the side of her helmet and the visor becomes transparent. He's relieved to find that the eyes underneath seem amicable. "I'LL PROVISION YOU A TWO DAY TOURIST VISA" she says, tapping at what can only be an AR keyboard above her wrist. "PLEASE BE AWARE YOU ARE ONLY PERMITTED TO ENTER THE GENERAL QUARTER, PLAZA, COMMERCIAL DISTRICT, AND SEASIDE."

The jerry wall begins to rumble to one side and the gate shudders in its frame. The female customs officer gestures towards the gate. "DRIVE STRAIGHT UNTIL YOU SEE A PARKING STRUCTURE. TOURIST VEHICLES ARE PROHIBITED ON MOST ROADS, BUT THE TRAM IS FREE. YOUR VISA WILL WARN YOU IF YOU APPROACH A RESTRICTED AREA."

Beyond the open gate is a tunnel that winds down through the cliffs, lit extravagantly with LEDs. Holographic ads of the various local businesses dance along the tunnel's entrance. The customs officer steps away from the Triton. "ENJOY YOUR STAY."

[Molly]

This is it: this is the moment they’ve been preparing for. Mouse had been preparing for this very moment. She was wearing her get-up. She’d doused herself in makeup. She had ‘studied’ the mannerisms befitting of an ojou-sama girlfriend, as exemplified in the ‘Tokimeki Paradise Kiss’ Galge running in the background of her deck. And when that all failed, she was ready to pounce: mentally tagging the suitcase, the jersey wall, the sentries- all of which could become necessary targets at a moment’s notice.

That moment never happens.

Instead, with a wink and a smile from the team pretty-boy, and the two are on their way. It's not until the checkpoint has disappeared from the rearview that Mouse realizes she's been holding her breath. It finally escapes: a long laugh, incredulous, but relieved.

"YOU SMOOTH MOTHERFRAGGER, THAT ACTUALLY WORKED." She shakes her head, still in utter disbelief as she sinks back into her seat. "IF I DIDN'T KNOW BETTER, I'D SWEAR YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING."

Before she can get comfortable, there's a moment of recognition, forcing a double-take, as she seems almost to scrutinize Yung's very expression. "YOU NEVER ACTUALLY USED THOSE PIXIE POPPERS, DID YOU?"

[Drew Buddy]

Axel lets out a breath. "Would have been good to know all that back in the planning phase, Achack," Axel finally replies. "And now you're saying that just going to the beach is going to be an infiltration, too?" A scavenger's dread fills Axel. Has Free Cal actually eliminated all the in-between spaces so completely?

He breathes in just to sigh out again, "allright, let's hear it."

[MattL]

As the Triton winds down the road towards Anchor Bay, beads of sweat begin to form across Yung's brow. He offers a weak smile in response to Mouse's comments. "I mean, what can I say?" The silence lingers for a few moments, punctuating the underlying truth. Despite his bravado, Yung feels the same amount of unease as Mouse does all dolled up. We're in over our heads.

"We gotta watch our step here, I got a bad feeling about this. Shoulda just chartered a boat." He says, hands wringing the steering wheel. "Anyway, no, I didn't use those poppers, might feel better if I did, you could be telling me about how it looks like smooth sailing from here." He breaths deeply and lets out an audible big sigh. "Feeling like we're gonna need em at some point while were here though."

After speaking his piece Yung continues driving, keeping his eyes peeled for the parking structure. "Let's find a good place for a coffee, yeah? Maybe some place favored by locals, not the tourists."

[GM Nick]

Achak shakes his head. "It's nothing like that. There's a waste treatment plant not too far from here. It's fully automated, so there shouldn't be any personnel. It's used to break down waste into polymers, which are then put on a barge and shipped to manufacturers." He wrinkles his nose. "Franky, it's a disgusting place and could pose a hazard to our health. However, if we hurry through and do not dawdle, we can minimize the risk."

[GM Nick]

A dazzling flash of daylight blinds Yung and Mouse as the Triton leaves the tunnel. The brilliance is quickly subdued by the electrochromic feature of the car's windows, allowing the pair to take in Anchor Bay.

The enclave is even more impressive from the inside. It's as if someone cut out a piece of the suburbs and dropped it on the beach. Condos extend from the cliffs, gleaming in the sunlight. Quaint neighborhoods fill the spaces between palm tree littered avenues. Everything is shiny. Everything is clean. As the Triton glides down towards the plaza, a pair of hang gliders sail overhead. A tanned young human woman in a bikini waves at the car.

Yung gathers that the large canopied concourse ahead is the plaza. The promenade is teeming with people, looking like insects at this distance as they march between the buildings. Beyond the plaza is a main thoroughfare which leads to a horseshoe shaped marina. There must be a hidden breakwater, as the ocean is docile and idyllic. On either side of the marina, small specks bob on the calm surface. A cavalcade of holographic sushi rolls dance on one side of the road, only further adding to the surreal aesthetic.

The parking structure is spartan and modest, clearly designed for visitors. Yung selects an open spot and brings the Triton to a stop. As the powerplant spins down, sounds from the promenade reach the duo's ears: voices yammering, laughter, the clinking of glassware, and the hum of a distant monorail.

[Molly]

The Triton pulls to a stop, but Mouse lingers, hardly eager to trade the modicum of privacy for the ubiquitous surveillance of the smart-city. She swallows, increasingly aware of the nervous beating of her own heart, and the keen absence of Yung’s usual brand of easygoing confidence, replaced by familiar notes of anxiety. She takes a deep breath as she looks upward to face her counterpart.

"YOU'RE RIGHT, THOUGH. WE GOT PENISY. " Even with her unorthodox word choice, there's a definite humility within. In her defense, she hadn't exactly expected the coastal country club to be more guarded than an Imperial Black site.

Her eyes drift from Yung to the messages from her team still populating the HUD. "LOOK, I DONT KNOW WHAT YOUR DEAL IS, AND I'M NOT ASKING. BUT YOU GOTTA REMEMBER, YOU'RE DEALING WITH A BUNCH OF CRIMINAL SCUMBAGS. OR MAYBE JUST A COLLECTIVE OF LOVEABLE TRASH MAMMALS." The comparison makes sense in her head, at least. If she's the Mouse, then Axel, with his goggles and penchant for salvage, certainly reminds her of some adorable trash panda. Mick could be a possum- merely the victim of a vicious reputation, and deceptively endearing.

"POINT BEING, IF YOU GIVE US AN OBSCENE WAD OF CASH TO GET A BOAT, OF COURSE WE'RE GONNA POCKET IT AND TURN TO PIRACY. THAT'S ALL WE KNOW HOW TO DO." She raises her palms, unsure if she's just making excuses for herself, equally unsure what more she can say.

Her attention drifts from her ineffectual excuses, to the Triton's dash, particularly the biometric readers Mr. Chen had placed such confidence in- ones she's confident she could pop with a good hour or two of work, had she the time and inclination. "MAYBE… WE DO A LITTLE OF BOTH? MAYBE WE CAN CHARTER SOMETHING BIG AND CLASSY FROM HERE, JUST FOR A THREE HOUR TOUR. ONLY WE REWIRE THE INTERNALS BEFORE THEY CAN LOG IT AS MISSING."

Her brow furrows, eyes moving from side to side as yet another half-baked plan unfolds in her mind's eye. "THAT WAY, WE STILL POCKET SOME CHANGE, BUT WE GET A NICER RIDE THAN WE COULD AFFORD ON OUR STIPEND, AND WE'LL BE WELL OUT OF FIRING RANGE BY THE TIME THEY REALIZE WE'RE GONE."

With just a moment of hesitance, she reaches a hand toward his forearm, whether to stop him from answering immediately, or in a stunning moment of anxious solidarity. "NO NEED TO DECIDE NOW. WE'LL LOOK OVER OUR OPTIONS WHEN WE'RE BOTH HEAVILY CAFFEINATED, NE? " She offers a weak smile, and a shrug. "THAT ALWAYS HELPS ME FEEL BETTER, ANYWAY."

[John]

The comm from Mouse comes through, letting the weird foursome in van in on their progress. As the A Team relays their thinking, Mick huffs over what feels like terminal indecision– the option paralysis experienced by a group without a leader when met with an embarrassment of choices, none of them being good.

<< This all feels like us getting stretched thin. Let's do this the quickest and easiest way we can from here and frag off, ne? >>

"No matter what happens from here, we need to get down to the water on our own." The ork makes eye contact with the Amerind. "So we're slipping in through some industrial facility, then? Let's get rolling that way."

[GM Nick]

Yung and Mouse hurry across the sun-baked plaza promenade, navigating the throng of upper-class retirees and vacationers. In the safety and isolation of the enclave, the war is a distant annoyance. Nobody spares the pair a second glance. Mouse purchases an energy drink from a vending machine at the tram platform and the ice-cold aluminum is a refreshing sensation amid the heat.

The inside of the tram smells of new plastic and purified air. The duo park themselves in open seats opposite a group of tanned sarari-men, obviously on holiday. Mouse listens to the Nipponese banter as the glass canopied-monorail whisks them off to the marina.

An Olympian monument greets them. Anchor Bay's private marina is a horseshoe of gilded columns that rise from a concrete framework, held together by a spiderweb of coiled tungsten-carbon cables. The docks are a maze of luxurious cypress wood and treated alloys, all providing private launches for a plethora of splendid watercraft. Hovercrafts, yachts, speedboats and hydrofoils fill the horizon, bobbing serenely in the placid lagoon. A hologram depicting a sailboat cresting a wave plays on an endless loop over the central archway.

Yung ushers Mouse forward, following a cobbled walk up to the main entrance. Their path is barred by a security turnstile equipped with a biometric scanner. A bored looking security guard in a simple Naval uniform is seated adjacent to the entrance, currently fiddling with a commlink. He doesn't bother to raise his gaze.

[GM Nick]

Achak points to a narrow sluice channel, semi-flooded with an unctuous solution. "If we want to reach the beach quickly while remaining undetected, that's our best bet." The Amerind has picked up on the underlying restlessness and seems intent on supporting the team's desire to charge forward.

The waste treatment plant is a sprawling citadel of whirring machinery and structures, all inter-connected by a dizzying array of pipes and conduit. Any security that might be present has yet to reveal itself, an unsurprising factor when considering why anyone would choose to infiltrate such a place. Getting thus far only required climbing a small wire fence and crawling under pipework.

[John]

Micks eyes narrow as they survey the knotwork of industrial piping and ductwork that makes up much of what they can see of the plant. A moment passes before they turn sharply to the rest of the team.

"Alright, I'm point. Stick close but not up my ass. I'll signal if we're about to stick our faces in shit. Anybody wants to get eyes in the sky," the ork's attention shifts distinctly between Axel and Reiya, whose crow-friend is perched just behind her on at the zenith of the meager security fence, "couldn't hurt our chances getting through easy."

With that, Mick turns quickly, their form dropping low and lithe against the ground, coupling with the shadows, and begins to slink swiftly forward.

(( Stealth for the approach, also can I get a perception roll for security measures– most specifically, measures we would trip, causing us to attract attention ))

[MattL]

Yung fishes his hand into a pocket retrieving a credstick, which he begins twirling casually between his fingers as approaches the guard, "Hey boss man, heard you were the one who can provide a couple of prospective residents access to the Marina. I'm buying my fiance here a boat for a wedding gift. Hope you understand the implication." He says, lowering his glasses for a moment to offer the guard a wink.

He slides up next to the turnstile and begins tapping the credstick against the metal. "Figure there might be a few vessels for sale in the Marina, at the very least I'm gonna need to find a slip. What do you think Honey " He says, turning to Mouse "Probably gonna need a big one, can't fit a big ship in a tiny slip, eh?" He shrugs. "How much is the going rate for a quick tour Boss?"

(( 500 credits on the credstick ))

[Drew Buddy]

Axel falls behind Mick and flashes a grin. "You got it, cap'."

He twirls his finger in the air, and points at two spots in the sky. Wind and Whirlwind take flight, and to their respective positions slightly above the facility, but far enough to the sides to not paint a large sign directly above the team. He can almost swear that Whirlwind is quicker and more precise in taking its place, owing to her new pilot program. Axel starts to make a motion to direct Doug to follow, before remembering that the lumbering drone is staying behind for this adventure.

"Overwatch sorted," he says with a thumbs up.

[GM Nick]

Dice

Security Guard Dvořák - Perception Check
Perception (3) + INT (4)
1, 5, 4, 2, 6, 6, 3
3 hits on 7 dice
~
Yung - Negotiation Check
Negotiation (5) + CHA (5) + 1 (Voice Control)
6, 1, 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 2, 4, 5, 1
4 hits on 11 dice
-
Security Guard Dvořák - Negotiation Check
Negotiation (2) + CHA (3) - 1 (Material Gain) + 3 (Suspicious)
1, 4, 1, 1, 3, 6, 4
1 hit on 7 dice

The security guard looks up at Yung. At first his face registers annoyance, but as his gaze travels to the credstick his expression softens. He holds out his commlink and pairs it to the credstick. After the nuyen has been transferred, any hint of hostility is gone. While Yung and Mouse wait anxiously, the guard stands and leans forward, glancing from side to side. Satisfied that nobody is paying them mind, he looks back to Yung.

"I gotta stay here or my supe will chew my ass off. Just make it quick, yeah? Fifteen minutes at the most."

A green LED flickers on above the turnstile and the bolt slides open. The guard waves his fingers towards it before taking a seat and returning his attention to his commlink.

[Molly]

Mouse, for her part, would have been content to play the aloof, rich snob, waltzing past the distracted guard. Yung, on the other hand, has other plans- ones that she’s now committed to.

Defying every impulse, she sidles up right beside the designated smooth-talker, wrapping herself around his free arm, replicating the sort of breezy intimacy she’s undoubtedly only seen in trids. At first, she averts her eyes at mention of the implication- the kind of demure gesture that would be obligatory of girls of an upstanding reputation. Still, at the mention of the tiny slip, she draws Yung in, her lips nearly close enough to graze his ear, and murmurs just loudly enough to be overheard. "...Not that it’s stopped you before."

Still, she can’t help but hold her breath as the guard glances about, only to offer him a coy, but grateful smile as soon as the turnstile draws open. "I’m sure we can make the most of it." She glides through, once again snaking her grip back to Yung’s bicep as soon as the two have passed the threshold of the gates. A mischievous glint lingers in her expression, though it's anyone's guess whether it's because she's still playing her role, or because she's undoubtedly plotting where to hide his body should he ever suggest playing a couple again. "Well, Oppa? Our adventure awaits…"

[GM Nick]

DIce

Mick - Sneaking Check
Sneak (6) + AGI (6) + 2 (Urban)
1, 4, 3, 6, 5, 5, 4, 4, 2, 6, 6, 4, 6, 2
6 hits on 14 dice
~
Mick - Perception Check
Perception (6) + INT (4)
3, 5, 3, 6, 4, 1, 2, 1, 6, 2
3 hits on 10 dice

Mick slides down the concrete embankment and plunges into the repellent ooze. They wince at the temperature of the waist-high
runnel, holding their weapon aloft to keep it dry. The oleaginous layer lurking on the surface parts as the adept slinks noiselessly forward. While the ork fits easily into the confines of the canal, it would be difficult to move abreast. Single-file works out better anyway. Mick is confident that they can spot any security measures before the others.

The intestines of the plant are dark, but the meager light leaking through the canal's entrance serves as adequate tinder for Mick's low-light vision. A fetid brume roils around their glistening skin bearing the unmistakable scent of methane. Lumps of organic matter of unknown origin bob in the gentle wake created by their movements. Most people might vomit in this situation, but Mick is no stranger to sewers.

At a large junction Mick stops abruptly and glances upward. The concrete ceiling has transformed into a grating, through which can be seen the interior of the plant's workable spaces. The soundtrack of this place is the familiar rhythm of industry: whirring, grinding, clanking machinery and the burbling of fluids. But there's something else-- something extra. Mick remains still as a surveillance drone rolls overhead. The squat, boxy automaton is equipped with a wide array of cameras and miniature tank-treads. Based on the predictable movements of the drone, Mick imagines it must be patrolling the area. Why pay a person to guard a waste treatment plant when you can get a robot to do it? After a few moments the drone toddles out of sight. Mick presses on, wading silently through the filth.

Further ahead, the canal encounters a sluice. Here the dross is filtered by a mesh filter and rerouted, while the finer particulate is left to wash out to sea. Mick cranes their neck. The space above the sluice is large enough for a person to climb over, presumably arranged so as to maintain the filter. Careful not to get caught in the undertow of the separation channel, the adept shimmies against the wall and hauls themselves on top of the sluice. Lying prone on the top of cold steel, Mick can see a distant light ahead, which can only be the outflow.

Mick sets their weapon down gently and fishes their commlink from a chest pocket. The feed from Echo-- which provides an aerial view from a hundred meters-- confirms that the coast is clear. The beach itself is little more than a smattering of jagged rock but is thankfully isolated from view by a large abutment. It might not be comfortable, but it will be safe.

[John]

The ork remains prone atop the sluice filter, waving the team forward. A grin playing at their lips, the ork opens the comms channel. << Making our way down to the beach. Between wading tits-high through shit and having to pass as uppercrust fascist sympathizers, I think we wound up with the less repellent duty. >> The adept considers their surroundings and adds, << Hey, last call on giving the finger to some rich assholes. Anybody wanna plant a bomb where they process all their bullshit? >>

[Drew Buddy]

Axel is deep in his work when Mick's message comes through. He flashes a grin in the darkness, and glances back at the plastic explosive with a detonator already assembled in his hands.

<< Now you're speaking my language, omae. Got one ready for you. >> He glances down at the stew of human refuse. << Any other way through, or are we all gonna need a shower after this? >>

[GM Nick]

Dice

Yung - Sneaking Check
Sneaking (1) + AGI (5) + 1 + 2 (Mentor)
6, 5, 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 3, 3
4 hits on 9 dice
~
Mouse - Sneaking Check
Sneaking (3) + AGI (4) + 2 (Urban)
5, 5, 4, 1, 6, 6, 4, 6, 2
5 hits on 9 dice
~
Mouse - Hardware Check (Extended)
Shadowrun Dice Roller
Hardware (6) + LOG (6) + 1 (Toolkit) ( 1 minute )
6, 4, 1, 3, 1, 1, 4, 1, 2, 1, 5, 1, 3
2 hits on 13 dice (reroll)
Hardware (6) + LOG (6) + 1 (Toolkit) ( 1 minute )
6, 3, 6, 2, 4, 2, 3, 6, 1, 1, 3, 2, 1
3 hits on 13 dice (reroll)
Hardware (6) + LOG (6) + 1 (Toolkit) ( 1 minute )
3, 3, 1, 6, 5, 3, 1, 2, 3, 2, 3, 1, 6
~
3 hits on 13 dice
Mouse - HoTF Check
Hacking (6) + LOG (6) + Hotsim + Codeslinger + Spec.
3, 5, 3, 4, 4, 6, 1, 6, 2, 3, 5, 2, 5, 3, 3, 3, 5, 1
6 hits on 18 dice
~
Computer (6) + LOG (6) + Hotsim + Codeslinger + Spec.
4, 5, 4, 5, 5, 2, 4, 1, 5, 5, 6, 3, 1, 1, 5, 4, 5, 5
9 hits on 18 dice
-
Firewall (3) + Device (5)
3, 4, 5, 1, 4, 6, 4, 1
2 hits on 8 dice (( 7 hits, 2 marks ))
Firewall (3) + Device (5)
4, 2, 3, 3, 6, 4, 2, 6
2 hits on 8 dice (( 4 hits, 1 mark ))

Once out of sight of the marina's entrance, Mouse releases her grip on Yung's arm. The pair walk briskly, soles slapping on the sunbaked wood planks, heads swiveling to assess the bounty of watercraft for suitable candidates. The minutes tick away to a chorus of footfalls, the creaking of the docks and the sound of water lapping at hulls. Most of the ships are designed for leisure or speed, with utility being something of an after-thought.

Mouse tugs on Yung's sleeve and directs his attention towards one of the furthest moorings. Framed by the sun and just waiting to be whisked away floats a Fincantieri Imperatore. The mid-sized luxury craft resembles a collection of flash-frozen bubbles on a wedge of chrome soap. The ship (at least from outward appearance) seems to be the perfect compromise between speed, size, and sea-worthiness. As flashy as it is, it remains one of the least ostentatious craft in the marina. Yung and Mouse exchange resolute glances and hurry to the end of the dock. They exercise no hesitation charging up the gangplank, which some trusting (if not naïve) individual has left extended.

The deck is teak, inlaid with turquoise accents and rimmed with chrome taffrail. The duo venture to the foredeck and search the hull until they locate the cabin portal. It's locked, but Yung simply presses his shoulder against the steel-shelled hatch and manhandles it open. A simple, if not tasteful interior greets them in the form of quilted-suede and mahogany. The dinette is speckled granite and stainless steel. Mouse mounts the small ladder leading to the pilot's cabin, ordering Yung to stand watch.

Mouse finds herself in a translucent bubble mounted in the middle of the fore-deck. The ship's command console is arranged in a semi-circle of sleek instrumentation. Screens, emitters and controls are scattered along the surface, all vying for her attention. Instead, the decker feels around the base of the console until she locates a seam. Next, the tools come out. It takes several minutes for her to relieve the console of its access panel, but she is rewarded with the sight of a DNI jack.

After Yung signals the all-clear, Mouse makes herself comfortable on the cabin floor and uncoils the fiber optic cable. A few seconds later and she's dropping into VR. The ship's command system is a digital facsimile of the ship itself. Mouse's avatar floats toward the digital version of the cabin that her meat body is in and begins to probe the glimmering wall around it. The firewall yields quickly to her barrage of exploits. Once she has three marks placed on the icon, she dives into the controls. Convincing the ship that the owner has activated the ignition is as easy as pulling a virtual lever.

Below, Yung feels a vibration beneath his feet as the powerplant roars to life. Water churns and burbles near the aft. Somewhere from deeper in the ship, a stereo turns on, and the guttural wailing of Johnny Nuclear reverberates throughout the ship.

[GM Nick]

Achak wades up to Axel, looking a little green around the gills. He tilts his head toward the explosive. "Just make sure to wait until we are well on our way before you trigger it. The local meteorology is going to be quite unpleasant."

[John]

Mick's heart alights at the sound of Axel readying an explosive device. << Bad news is, you gotta wade through. Good news, though, is we're finally gonna be able to give Yung the group hug he deserves. >>

[Molly]

<< Sounds like a shitstorm’s a-brewin. Time to batten down the hatches and make for the horizon. >> With an ASCII grin, Mouse’s abstract persona, now festively adorned with a jaunty straw hat atop its CRT, tosses a trio of marks toward Axel’s remote icon.

She eyes the Imperatore’s digital settings: a mish-mash of navigational headers and mechanical controls that mean absolutely nothing to her landlubber hoop. Her fingers twitch with nervous energy as she looks for something familiar, like good ol’ acceleration, that she can throw down, should her more competent friends have their hands full with high-explosives. << Oi, first mate: make sure there's nothing left tying us down, wakatta? We're gonna gun it before our buddy comes round to peep on the happy couple. >>

[GM Nick]

Dice

Sneaking Group Check
Axel
Sneaking + AGI
2, 2, 1, 3, 3, 5, 6
2 hits on 7 dice (reroll)
Achak
Sneaking + AGI + 2
3, 5, 5, 6, 4, 1, 5, 2, 2, 3
4 hits on 10 dice
(( Average 3 hits ))
~
Axel - Demolitions Skill Check
Demolitions (1) + LOG (7)
1, 6, 5, 2, 2, 3, 5, 3
3 hits on 8 dice

Axel and Achak slip forward through the putrid sewage, arms reaching skyward as they carry Axel's firearms. Wind and Whirlwind hover just behind, causing ripples to spread over the pinguid surface. The odor is overwhelming and Axel gags, barely retaining the breakfast he had snarfed at Blue Dog.

The duo slow as they reach the center, gazes locked on the grating above. Axel's toe encounters an obstruction beneath the slime and he careens forward. Just before his face can plunge into the canal, some sudden force secures him. Axel blinks, his nose inches from what appears to be a nugget of fecal matter. He turns his head slowly to discover that Achak had clutched the back of his jacket. Gently, he nods a thanks and straightens himself. Both men look up through the grating at the surveillance drone, which has stopped. Achak holds a finger over his lips. Axel suppresses a groan. His gun is getting heavy. His nostrils are burning.

A swell of relief alights in Axel's chest as the drone continues its patrol route. Achak exhales slowly. The pair continue forward, taking extra care to prod the murky depths with their boots before each step. When they reach the sluice, Axel places his rifle on top of the filter. Bolstered by his animosity towards the waste treatment plant, he wastes no time in affixing the plastic explosive to the side of the canal. The radio detonator he affixes as a chef might place a cherry on top of a prize cake. That task completed, the pair move to join Mick.

[Drew Buddy]

Axel finishes placing the packet of plastique to the canal, just below the factory. He pulls away and pauses, and then leans back in to press a smiley face into the brick. He turns and gives Achack a grateful thumbs up to cover all the bases.

He sloshes through the putrid slurry, boots sticking to the floor with each step. He shakes one of his legs to dislodge... Something. He doesn't want to think too hard about it. He sidles up to Mick, and slaps a hand on their shoulder. "This should be fun." He whispers.

He brings Wind and Whirlwind closer, ordering them to hold position, before taking their programs off the RCC, and dumping everything into signal scrubbing. The feed from Echo on the boat snaps into clarity. He lets the RCC slide down on its strap, and places his hands out in front of him, gripping controls only he can see.

<< Ready for you. Can't sit down right now, so going manual. >>

[GM Nick]

Axel is plunged into frigid water, but his skin is carbon fiber. The world resolves itself in a strange fish-eye configuration. His limbs are whirling propellers. He can feel Mouse and Yung inside where his rib-cage would be. It tickles. A simple flexing of his 'muscles' and the Imperatore slides out of its mooring.

Yung grabs hold of the dinette to steady himself as the ship surges. He watches as the forgotten halyard pulls taut and then snaps. The marina grows smaller and smaller as the yacht gains knots.

Meanwhile, Axel adeptly navigates the breakwater and heads for open ocean. The feeling of freedom is exhilarating. Waves crash around the yacht's prow, summoning shimmering arcs that become iridescent as they cascade.

Achak, perched on a rock next to the outflow, points at the Imperatore as it sails into view.

[Molly]

The ambient soundtrack provided by Johnny Nuclear fades ever so slightly as the Imperatore approaches the shore, and a familiar synth takes hold of the boat's speaker system. "HEY GUYS! WE GOT YOU A BOAT! HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND THE IMPLICATION..."

[Drew Buddy]

Axel guides the boat, now churning and burbling calmly, toward the shore. Through the boat's external sensors, he scans the shoreline for a safe place, deep enough to pull to shore.

<< The Implication? Sounds like this tub needs a name change. >> He comms, his voice coming out of the control panel of the boat.