Contract #2: Gangland, USA.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc continues with the team down the tunnel, keeping an eye out for traps and blind spots that might conceal waiting gangers.

"That must be where they came in. We should expect a hostile reception on the other side."

[John]

Max shakes the moment from his mind as he realizes that the team has no time to delay if they intend to catch Roman! Turning on his heels, he says,

"We need to press on, boys! Follow the gore splattered road!"

Turning in the direction of the dead shaman on the presumption that the way most guarded is the way to their goal, Max presses on with some urgency.

[GM Nick]

Daylight consumes the runners as they emerge from the tunnel exit into the side of a drainage ditch. The sun is setting now, creating large swathes of radioactive hues in the 'loglo of Seattle's metropolis. A few Ameribucks are scattered in the waste water at the bottom of the channel, leading down a ways and up the bank towards a large industrial building.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc keeps low and behind cover while surveys the imposing structure through his scope.

"Looks like they left a nice, neat trail back to their hideout. Can't say I like the idea of storming the castle from open ground; Let's see if we can find a less exposed approach."

He scans the area for other nearby buildings, or the piles of old junk and equipment that seem to grow around industrial installations like a fungus.

[John]

Max kneels down and picks up one of the ragged Ameribucks and gives it a hard look. His eyes slitted, the elf scans the distance in the direction of the monetary trail of breadcrumbs. Considering his experience trailing crooked politicians and perverts (often one and the same), Max considers the most likely direction the gangers may have taken beyond the obvious, looking for a bead on a trail that may not be as obvious as that which stretches out plainly before him.

(( Let me get a tracking roll here. I have a rating 2 skillsoft. ))

[GM Nick]

The fly-spy gains altitude, transposing an image back to Doc of a rapidly shrinking topography. The industrial building appears to stand alone in an empty lot. From the fish-eye view, Doc makes out two guards patrolling the perimeter.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc keeps his head down.

"Okay, we've got two goons patrolling outside. We'll either have to take them out, or sneak by them to get in. I'm in favor of option one. If we can take them out at range, they won't know what hit them. Unless anyone has any objections, I'm going to take a position where I can get a clear shot on both of them."

He looks at the Fly-Spy's feed and pans the drone around, trying to identify a spot around the building that is at least 300 meters away, will put the sun behind him, and has a clear line of sight to the guards.

[John]

(( So the reason my last post was a little anachronistic is because I was completely unaware of everything on this page before it when I made it. ))

[John]

Max nods and affirms,

"You know I like that plan."

Max loads another shell into Marlowe to replace the one that he fired at the astral beast. Checking the shotgun in a quick once-over, he takes in the dings and gouges that pepper the weapon from the years (and more recently, months) of extremely hard use. If he were to be unfamiliar with this weapon, he wouldn't even be certain that it would fire-- let alone be effective at a surprisingly long range. But he'd always subscribed to the timeless adage: take care of your tools and they'll take care of you. It may be ugly on the outside, but inside are a well-oiled works that are kept as spotless as his mother's dinner table had been.

The elf follows closely behind Doc to move within effective shotgunning range. At times like these, he's glad he's got the scope on his side. There's nothing like some good, old fashioned shotgun sniping.

[GM Nick]

The team scrambles up the opposite embankment and takes up position behind a row of storage units. There is a clear line of sight to the factory from there. Every few minutes, one of the guards appears at the edge of the perimeter as he completes the apex of his patrol route. The trademark neck tattoo and mohawk can only mean one thing: Scorpion.

[Elliott]

((I'm skiing today so my posting will be infrequent...))

[Conway]

"Val, can you feel about for security cameras? If I can get to that spot unseen, I can drop that drekbag. No alarms and no surprises."

Sinjin pulls the hood of his form fitting body armor up and over his head, concealing the pale skin of his face. The light is fading fast, shadows are growing longer, and the black clad Adept is in his element.

[GM Nick]

"Sure thing, 'mano."

Val slumps behind an industrial dumpster and assumes an awkward sort of cross-legged posture. His eyelids droop as his brain changes gears into AR mode.

Stat1C5hade flits about the matrix representation of the district. His eyes would narrow, had he any, on the dim outline of the factory's infrastructure. It's eerily empty.

"Nada. You're free to snap necks as you please."

[Drew Buddy]

Doc takes up a position behind an outbuilding a few hundred meters away from the target. The sun sits low behind his back, obscuring his form, and denying the enemy any reflected glare from the scope's glass. The sun, against all odds, filters through the blanket of smog, and paints the scene an unlikely shade of orange.

Doc lines up his sights on the closest scorpion.

< Sinjin, if you're going to make a move, you should approach from the side of the building, and grab the second ganger when he rounds the corner. If we time this right, we can take 'em both down silently at the same time. >

[John]

Max has to move considerably closer than Doc has, and does so in tandem with Sinjin. Stopping approximately 100 meters from the structure and crouching behind a jutting of what looks to be disabused massive gauge electrical conduit, the elf watches as the sneaky ork makes his way toward the sentry walking his patrol route. Max plans on remaining as support in this strike, and as such keeps his sights trained on the Scorpion who has the misfortune of being in Sinjin's deadly approach vector. If things don't go well on the infiltration and silent take-down, Max has his teammate's six.

(( Tom-- let me know if I overstepped anything by loosely narrating for Sinjin; I just figured since we were both making our way up there that I'd indicate doing so at the same time. ))

[Conway]

Nodding his thanks to Val, Sinjin sets out toward the facility. His pace is quick, trying to time his arrival before the return of the Skorpion guard. Despite his haste, he keeps and eye open for traps and trip wires.

((no worries max, thanks for the cover))

[GM Nick]

Infiltration Test

[Infiltration (5) + AGI (5) = 3]
2 1 6 1 6 5 2 3 4 3

Sinjin cuts around the edge of the channel, moving from one piece of cover to the next, until he's a stone's throw from the ganger.

Perception (3) Test

[Perception (2) + INT (4) = 2]
6 2 3 6 4 3

The Scorpion remains oblivious to the ork's presence, as Sinjin slips out from behind a spool of cable.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc glances around the scope to Sinjin, then back to his own target. He repeats this periodically, waiting for the orc to make his move. The timing has to be just right.

(( Doc will fire simultaneously with Sinjin's takedown. ))

[Conway]

Taking a last, careful step to fall in behind the ganger, Sinjins thick arms spread wide before closing tightly around the targets neck. At the same time, the dim pulse of a muzzle flash blinks in the distance from where Doc and Val lie in cover.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc sees Sijin make his move, and slowly pulls back on the trigger until the tension breaks with a neat click.

[GM Nick]

Melee Combat (Sinjin)

[Unarmed Combat (5) + AGI (5) = 5]
5 4 3 6 5 3 6 1 3 6

Damage Resistance (G#1)

[BOD (6) + Armor (4) + Toughness (1) = 3]
1 4 1 4 4 1 4 5 5 3 5

(( 11P DAMAGE! ))

The sinew in Sinjin's biceps stand out as he grabs and twists the ganger's neck. A rewarding pop confirms the kill. The ork eases the ganger's carcass to the ground.

[John]

Seeing the kill take place, Max swings his attention to the second sentry in Doc's sights.

[GM Nick]

Ranged Combat (Doc)

[Battle Rifles (8) + AGI (9) + Smartlink (2) + Firing From Cover (-2) = 6]
5 2 5 6 3 2 4 3 6 1 6 4 2 2 3 5 4

Damage Resistance (G#2)

[BOD (6) + Armor (6) + AP (-4) = 4]
6 6 1 3 5 5 2 1

(( 12P DAMAGE! ))

The patrolling ganger jerks as Doc's round catches him in the cerebral cortex. He falls, his lifeless form spread eagle on the ground.

[John]

A slight smile dawns on Max's face; the team's efficiency seems in top form today. The elf proceeds carefully from his spot and toward the structure to join Sinjin, stepping gingerly to ensure that he neither makes unnecessary noise and avoiding possible traps.

[GM Nick]

(( 25 gangers down, 5 to go. ))

The last sliver of sunlight disappears in the neon miasma of light and air pollution that encompasses the Seattle skyline. The shadows grow, seem to reach outwards towards the Scorpion's hideout and the team's final destination.

[GM Nick]

As Sinjin and Max sulk through the shadows towards the factory, they quickly realize something is awry. The doors to the hideout are wide open, and a large thermo signature radiates from the inside. It's almost as if...

A single plume of smoke begins to spiral from the factory roof.

[John]

Max comms to the team,

<I've got a bad feeling about this. Get up here guys-- on the double.>

[Drew Buddy]

Doc stands up, and breaks into a low run across the lot to the building, keeping out of sight of the front door.

< What the frag are they up to? >

[Elliott]

Tyros moves forward on long invisible legs, keeping pace with Doc, towards the factory entrance.

[John]

The team now assembled with the arrivals of Doc, Val, and Tyros, Max peers around the corner into the facility with his shotgun at the ready.

[GM Nick]

Max sidles up to the open door and risks a peek inside. A roaring bonfire has consumed the center of the factory, forcing the elf to turn his head. Smoke and heatwaves obscure the surroundings. A smoldering Ameribuck floats past Max's face and pastes itself to the factory wall, giving him one glance of Dunkelzahn's face before its consumed by embers and reduces to soot.

[Drew Buddy]

Doc switches off his thermos, and stares slack-jawed at the fire.

"Okay, now we know this fragger is one taco short of a fiesta platter," he says, voice barely above the static roar of the flames.

[John]

Incredibly wary of the situation, Max scans the room for any hidden figures which may be using the fire to disguise their heat signatures and any more invisible magii. Pressed hard to the wall, the elf inches in while remaining as discerningly aware of his surroundings as metahumanly possible.

[GM Nick]

A pair of gangers stumble around the perimeter of the fire, hacking and coughing up a storm. Their faces are ashy and there are burns across the various pieces of body armor that adorn their frames.

One of them, a troll, says between coughing fits, "...fraggin' Roman... who would've... can't believe he burned it all."

"I'd kill him if I could only see through all this drek! We better get out of here!"

[John]

Max looks at Doc over his shoulder and gestures for him to join him on his flank. The two standing abreast of one another, Max nods at Doc and motions with his head in a gesture that indicates 'I'll take the one on the right.' Unsurprisingly, Max is aiming for the troll. The gesture may befuddle a newcomer, but these two have been through enough battles together that the other is practically an extension of the self-- an understanding so deep that they form a single deadly instrument. The elf mouths to his human compatriot a silent count down to extinction.

'One. Two. Three.'

The pair opens fire in perfect sync.