Drifter One

Hey folks - just to let you know im gonna bail as this game does not seem to be going anywhere. Good luck all.

 RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN

Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45

INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4

Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed |

Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4)

As conversation continued as the Kuma glided down the freeway, Ricky began loading Lucy with slugs, his calloused fingers nimbly slotting them into the magazine.

"This old girl can sure shred a wheel or two. If we do this then we need to surround them quick and grab the merch.  We probably have more time than we need out here as NCPD wont consider it a priority now we are outta the city streets. Unless we cause some catastrophe that is."

Ricky flicked the safety off the aging weapon and adjusted his position, pressing the button to retract the window.

"Ready. If you are..."

Ricky rummaged in his duffel bag at his feet for a moment s Kat smoothly brought the Kuma around and nestled in the traffic a couple of vehicles behind the White SUV. He withdrew a long iron; a shotgun formed of cobalt blue steel barrel and a walnut stock. It looked old and battered, like it had seen a lot of action.

"This is Lucy. The old girl has seen a fair bit trouble over the years, and yes, ive popped a few tyres with her. If this is the road we are taking, i can take the shot." 

Shooting tyres was all part of being a beat cop, as car chases were commonplace throughout NC. Quietly, he hoped Lucy has enough clout to take out a custom rig.

im here. Where else would i be? Its cyberpunk man!

Uh uh. I know what you're thinking. "Did he fire six shots or only five?" Well to tell you the truth in all this excitement I kinda lost track myself. But being this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world and would blow your head clean off, you've gotta ask yourself one question: "Do I feel lucky?" Well, do ya, punk? - Harry Callahan

Happy New Year folks. Hope it is a good one and an improvement on the last few!

whoops. AN oversight i have now rectified 🙂

finally Platinumed Cyberpunk 2077 after 92 hours....

PLaying Warhammer 3: Total War now.

One of the all time greatest Christmas hits....ever!

On 12/3/2022 at 7:50 PM, Drifter One said:

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN

---

Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45

INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4

---

Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed |

Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):

 

 

Ricky fell silent. The wheelman was right of course, getting slotted was par for the course for that amount of eddies. Trouble was Rick had far too much to do and reparations had to be made; he couldn't do that if he got zero'd. Then again, he'd been working the mean streets of NC for a couple of decades now and he had survived this long.

Despite the near misses. he thought to himself as he mindlessly rubbed an old gunshot wound in his thigh. It still hurt now and then, but he could never tell if it was a phantom pain or if it was real. He could've just gone the route of some of his old pals and got decked out with some chrome replacements, but Ricky hated it. He would never substitute his real body for any robotic nonsense. Despite all the aches and pains of middle age. He pulled out his pistol, a Millitech AP-49 custom. The grip had two entwined silver swans etched on each side. He affectionally called it Renee, after his wife. She had a vicious bite too. Checking it was loaded with a full clip he checked the safety and stowed it away in its holster.

"Yep. Nice and clean. But if those punks come shootin'..." Ricky paused, not bothering to finish his sentence. If his life was in danger, playing the nice guy would not end well. "let's just get this done."

Ricky sat back in his seat and looked out the window. The streets were quiet, but they always concealed something, so he made sure he would keep his detectives eye on his surroundings.

@Sapphic Reiver hope all goes well for you.

On 12/3/2022 at 7:50 PM, Drifter One said:

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN

---

Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45

INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4

---

Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed |

Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):

 

 

The messenger for the Pastor did not hang around; spilled the beans and delta'd outta there. Something did not sit right with Ricky, maybe it was instinct or maybe it was just his years on the force made him suspicious of everything and everyone. Still, he had to do what he had to do. The tracker was passed to Mercedes, so she slipped in the front next to the Nomad and Ricky found himself sat in the back next to the Koi lady. Ricky wound down the window to try and let the odour out. NC was rank on the best of days, but damn it was less of a torment on the nostrils than the stench coming from the car.

"Something stinks." Ricky muttered. "And I don't mean the wagon." he added, realising he was stating the obvious. He shuffled forward in his seat, grabbing the headrest of the passenger seat in front. "So we are delivery drivers, huh?" Ricky nonchalantly pulled his hipflask from his overcoat and began to unscrew the cap. "Last time I got mail, din't take four fucking people to deliver it. This ain't gonna be no simple pick up, and if the package is as important as it seems, why would scav trash nick it?". Ricky flopped back into his seat and stared out of the window as the full sun began to blaze higher in the sky. "I dunno. Just need to be on our toes, is all im sayin'." Ricky took a long swig from his hiplflask.

As Ricky puffed away, enjoying the tabacco taste as it burned his throat with every inhale. He was often like this; enjoying the pain of lifes choices one minute, and then drowning them with whiskey the next. It was a paradox. The fella who gave him the light did not seem to be a talkative sort, but then most people on the game wern't. It was easier that way. As ge reached the end of his cigarette, a petit looking woman appeared, dressed to impress yet had the odd accessory which suggested a big "**** You!" to the system. He felt for her a little, for he knew the system could not be beat, and it always won. Nevertheless, she seemed quite confident and announced she was looking for something. 

Only a moment later another woman appeared, very young looking Ricky thought. 

Damn kids should be at home with their folks having breakfast! Yet, as she got closer, Ricky noticed there was wisdom in her eyes, maybe not as young as he thought. She pleasantly introduced herself, which took Ricky back a bit as manners were in short supply in Night City, and although he lacked them himself through the nature of his career, he sure as hell appreciated them. The second individual mentioned Pastor Robert. 

"Paster Robert?" He affirmed. "You too?" he asked, turning to the other woman. Exhaling a final puff of blue smoke, Ricky tossed his cigarette into the road and walked over to the pair. "Looks like we are all part of the same crew. I'm Ricky." he introduced.

Before any conversation could start, a thunderous noise interrupted the formalities. Ricky looked up and could see a red vehicle screaming towards them, hitting the kerb with the dull thud of rubber on concrete before screeching to a halt. The din was cut immediately as the engine was terminated.

"You the pastor's lot?  If'n you wanna roll 'n talk, hop in, otherwise point me where you want me.  Rather not park on a main." Came a gruff voice from inside the cab. Ricky walked over and leant into the window, one arm resting on the roof. A pungent smell punched him in the nose and he almost baked at the odour.

"Hey man. You the wheels? Im Ricky." He motioned over to the side street opposite. "Why don't you pull up over there? We need to talk to this dandy fella over there and get the deets."

On 11/17/2022 at 9:26 AM, Drifter One said:

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN

---

Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45

INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4

---

Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed |

Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):

Ricky was sat in one of his favourite dives, a slinky little bar in Japantown called Ziggi's. It was small, long and narrow running under the street and filled with the typical pink and green neon strip lighting. Ricky found it calming, especially after a day cruising the beat in Night City. He had knocked off early from the night shift and found himself sat in Ziggi's, the usual companions of a pack of "Aces" cigarettes and a large glass of whiskey. Looking down at the brown liquor in his tumbler, he promised himself he would one day visit Scotland and taste the real stuff. But that had to wait.

Turned down low, a flat panel was showing footage of a music concert, some wild haired glamourpuss strutting about on stage and the crowd going wild for it. Ricky downed his whiskey.

God damned Rockerboys! he muttered to himself, indicating to the bar steward for another double shot.

Brrrrpppp....bleep bleep! His agent stirred into life. Ricky grabbed the aging device and tapped the screen, it was from the Pastor; co-ordinates of where to go for the gig. Castille and Herald. Ricky felt a pang of bitter sweetness. Glad he had been chosen so he could earn some extra eddies, but disappointed it was South Night City. The place was rough and dangerous; he was hoping for a simple errand. Popping another "Ace" into his mouth, Ricky lit the tobacco stick with his Classic '98 and took a long draw.

Everything alright, Rick? Asked Neto, the bar steward as he placed a coaster and his drink down on the bar.

Yeah, Neet. Just runnin' some overtime. Y'know? he answered as he exhaled the blue smoke. I'll finish this up and be on my way.

Whatever you need, choom. Neto replied.

Ricky did not stay long, he finished his cigarette in a few drags and gulped down his whiskey. Tapping on his agent he transferred the eddies owed and slid off of his stool before slipping on his Trilby.

See you tomorrow. Neto said as he cleared the empty glasses from where Ricky had sat.

Yep. He replied, gripping the handrail to the stairs as he ascended back up to street level. It was 20 past five in the morning and the early risers of NC had just started to crawl out of their pits. As he reached the street a pungent odour of the all too familiar smell of rotting rubbish filled his nostrils. He often wondered how could "fresh" air often smelled so foul. Hailing  cab, Ricky made his way to Castille and Herald.

Castille and Herald The AI spat at Ricky as the taki pulled up on the street corner. It was quiet, which was how he wanted it to be, but he checked his iron just in case, before stowing away in his hidden holster. As the taxi drove off with a hum, Ricky adjusted his trousers and tucked his shirt in, all the while his keen eyes scanning the street scene before him. He examined the rooftops to ensure there was noone peering down from above, at least that he could see and most of the few folks that were wandering about looked harmless enough.

There, leaning against that car... read pants and a leopard skin jacket.

Christ, who dressed this clown? he thought to himself. Pulling an Ace from its packet, Ricky strode over to the individual.

Hey Man. Got a light? he asked, his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. As the man offered his fire, Ricky leant in to ensure the cigarette tip met with flame. Pastor. You know 'im? God some of the lords work to do.

On 11/17/2022 at 9:26 AM, Drifter One said:

RICKY FORTUNE - LAWMAN

---

Head Armor: 7 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 0 | HP: 45

INT: 7 | REF: 8 | DEX: 7 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 6 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 7 | MOVE: 6 | BODY: 5 | EMP: 4

---

Humanity: 40/40 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Heavy Pistol 4D6 | ROF 2 | Hands 1 | Shots (8) | Concealed |

Shotgun 5d6 | ROF 1 | Hands 2 | Shots (4):

 

Ugghhhhhhh.....

Ricky stirred and as he rolled over he tumbled from the stained, cracked leather couch, hitting the hard floor of his conapt with a thud.

Jeezus Christ... he cursed as empty bottles clattered and crashed around him. Ricky sat up, back against the couch and rubbed his head, sore from and overindulgent evening and his hair messy and crusty with dried Stylocream. He paused for a moment, his arms resting over his knees as he surveyed the mess around him. He was living like a bum, and he knew it. He struggled since he and his wife had separated and he was forced to rent this shoebox whilst things "sorted out". Standing with a grunt, Ricky kicked some empty vials out of his path as he stumbled to the bathroom. He was still fully dressed from the night before, even still had his overcoat on.

Get a grip... he muttered to himself as he reached out and waved his hand in front of the shower control. Hot streams of water immediately fell from the shower head, steam filling up the small room immediately. Ricky began to peel off his dirty clothes.

The shower came as warm relief to Ricky as the hot water seemed to wash away his foggy head and the grime of Night City which just seemed to stick to his skin. He had lathered up with soap and washed it away and was now just standing under the stream of warmth as it soothed all his aches and stresses.

bbzzzzzz....Hot water quota limits reached. Terminating...bzzzttt came a static ridded synthesized voice and the shower abruptly stopped. Ricky sighed heavily. Exiting the shower booth, Ricky quickly dried himself and dressed in his usual white shirt and dark brown suit. Pouring a quick pick-me-up of whiskey and drinking it in one gulp, Ricky heard the familiar beeping sound of his agent.

Where the **** is it... he swore, rummaging through cushions and empty glasses and all manner of other untidied items, much like a scavenger on a rubbish tip. Eventually he exhaled with relief as he found his agent, but slumped back on the sofa in disappointment, it was not Renee calling to offer reconciliation. It was the job boards, pinging with the latest gigs.

Ricky was a cop, but cops got paid pittance and he found he was struggling more than ever, Since his split from Renee, he had to support himself as well as her and their son, Jack. He had already been declined three times for promotion this year; he was beginning to feel the precinct were trying to stifle his progression. He had toyed with the idea of pimping himself out to private clients for some time now, just to make ends meet, which is why he had signed up to these damned job boards in the first place.

His finger hovered over the screen for a prolonged period until finally it dropped and pressed the "Accept" button.

His agent immediately connected to the fixer who had posted the gig. It was a recorded message which at the end, asked Ricky to leave contact details, where if chosen the fixer, one "Pastor Robert", would be in touch. After leaving his details, Ricky terminated the call.

All in the good service of the Lord. he told himself. He turned to the coffee table and pushed some debris aside and grabbed an upturned photo frame. He stared at it for a long time, the picture of his wife, Renee and their son, Jack. He kissed the picture and set it upright on the table.

I'll make this right, Baby. I promise.

On 11/22/2022 at 6:41 PM, TheWorldmaker said:

I'm gonna say no, simply because that would kind of remove some of the perks from being a nomad.  You could probably hitch a ride with your squad when you call for help and they arrive, but on it's own, you wouldn't own a private vehicle just yet. 

 

Damn NCPD budgets!!!

@TheWorldmakerwould Ricky have access to a Squad car at all?

ahh cracking thanks!

hmm , im not a coder by any stretch, and cant seem to get my image to stick. Any advice from you techie types?

lets bust some Gonks! And do other things...

On 11/1/2022 at 4:34 AM, TheWorldmaker said:

Ricky Fortune

LAWMAN

INT REF DEX TECH COOL WILL LUCK MOVE BODY EMP 7 8 7 5 6 8 7 6 5 4

HP DEATH SAVES HUMANITY MONEY 45 5 40 476eb

AWARENESS SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Concentration [Will]   2 8 10 Conceal/Reveal Objects [INT]         Lip Reading [INT]         Perception [INT]   5 7 12 Tracking [INT]   4 7 11 CONTROL SKILLS         Drive Land Vehicle [REF]   3 8 11 Pilot Air Vehicle [REF]         Pilot Sea Vehicle [REF]         Riding [REF]	BODY SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Athletics [DEX]   4 7 11 Contortionist [DEX]         Dance [DEX]         Endurance [WILL]   4 8 12 Resist Torture [WILL]   4 8 12 Stealth [DEX]   6 7 13 PERFORMANCE SKILLS         Acting [COOL]         Play: Instrument [TECH]         Play: Instrument [TECH]	EDUCATION SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Accounting [INT]         Animal Handling [INT]         Beaurocracy [INT]   1 7 8 Business [INT]         Composition [INT]         Criminology [INT]   5 7 12 Cryptography [INT]         Deduction [INT]   5 7 12 Education [INT]   2 7 12 Gamble [INT]	EDUCATION SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Language [Street Slang] [INT]   2 7 9 Language [Cultural] [INT]   4 7 11 Language [INT]         Library Search [INT]         Local Expert [Home] [INT]   2 7 9 Local Expert [INT]         Local Expert [INT]         Science [INT]         Tactics [INT]   2 7 9 Wilderness Survival [INT]
SOCIAL SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Bribery[COOL]   2 6 9 Conversation [EMP]   2 4 6 Human Perception [EMP]   2 4 8 Interrogation[COOL]   5 6 11 Persuasion [COOL]   4 6 11 Personal Grooming[COOL]         Streetwise [COOL]   4 6 10 Trading  [COOL]         Wardrobe & Style [COOL]	TECHNIQUE SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Air Vehicle Tech [TECH]         Basic Tech [TECH]         Cybertech [TECH]         Demolitions (x2) [TECH]         Electronics / Security [TECH]         First Aid [TECH]   2 5 7 Forgery [TECH]         Land Vehicle [TECH]         Paint / Draw / Sculpt [TECH]         Paramedic (x2) [TECH]	TECHNIQUE SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Photography / Film [TECH]         Pick Lock [TECH]         Pick Pocket [TECH]         Sea Vehicle Tech [TECH]         Weapons Tech [TECH]         RANGED WEAPONS SKILLS Autofire (x2) [REF]         Handgun [REF]   6 8 14 Heavy Weapons (x2) [REF]         Shoulder Arms[REF]   2 8 10	FIGHTING SKILLS MODS RANKS STAT TOTAL Brawling [DEX]   2 8 10 Evasion [DEX]   2 8 10 Martial Arts (x2) [DEX]         Martial Arts (x2) [DEX]         Melee Weapons [DEX]   2 8 10

LIFEPATH Cultural Origin North American Motivations Value Most: My Word Environment Decaying, once upscale neighbourhood Personality Moody, Brash and Headstrong Opinions of People People are untrustworthy. Dont depend on anyone Family Crisis Victim of crime racket, mother killed, father doing time Personal Style Business Wear Valued Person Renee Fortune (Wife) Jonny Fortune (Son) Friends 0 Hairstyle Short and Neat Valued Possession Trilby Hat Enemies Jacob Threetrees, Government official, caused to lose face in public office. Can use Gov Agency Affectation Dark Glasses Background Corporate Technicians Life Goals Get rid of a bad reputation

ROLE LIFEPATH Role Criminal Investigation Role Decision Jurisdiction - Corporate zones Role Decision Who is gunning for your group: Police Accountability group Role Decision Who is your groups major target: Organized Crime Role Decision -

ROLE ABILITY	DESCRIPTION	RANKS
Backup	CN: 10 SP: 7 HP:25 Move & Body: 5	4
	Local Beat Cops: 4 x local beat Cops arrive in 2 compact ground cars. Armament: Heavy Pistols and Kevlar

WEAPON TYPE	WEAPON SKILL	SINGLE SHOT DAM	MAGAZINE SIZE	RATE OF FIRE	HANDS REQUIRED	CONCEALMENT	COST
Heavy Pistol	Handgun	4D6	8	2	1	yes	100eb (premium)
Shotgun	Shoulder arms	5d6	4	1	2	no	500eb (expensive)
Smoke Grenade x2	Athletics	-4 to certain tasks	1	1	1	yes	100eb

ARMOR TYPE	ARMOR DESCRIPTION	STOPPING POWER	ARMOR PENALTY	COST
Light Armourjack	Kevlar and plastic meshes inserted into the weave of fabric	11	None	100eb (Premium)

CYBERWARE	INSTALL	DESCRIPTION & DATA	COST	HUMANITY LOSS

GEAR	DESCRIPTION	COST
Agent	Self adaptive AI powered smartphone (=2 Library search/Wardrobe and Style)	100eb (Premium)
Handcuffs	Restraints (req. Body > 10 to break)	50eb Costly
Scrambler/Descrambler	Scrambles/Descrambles comms	500eb (Expensive)
Smoke Grenade	x2	100eb
Heavy Pistol Ammo	x100	100eb
Shotgun Ammo	x30	30eb
Flashlight	Rechargeable. 100m/yd beam, lasts up to 10 hours on a charge.	20eb

	CHIC	DESCRIPTION	COST
BOTTOM	Business Wear	Dark Brown suit trousers	500 (expensive)
TOP	Business Wear	White dress shirt	50eb (Costly)
JACKET	Business wear	Dark brown suit jacket	500eb (Expensive)
FOOTWEAR	Business wear	Tactical Boots	500eb (Expensive)
JEWELRY
MIRRORSHADES	Urban Flash	Dark Glasses with neon green strip light across top frame	100eb (premium)
GLASSES
CONTACT LENSES
HAT
FASHIONWARE	Business wear	Charcoal grey Trilby Hat with blue neon downlight in rim	100eb (Expensive)
FASHIONWARE
FASHIONWARE
FASHIONWARE
FASHIONWARE
FASHIONWARE

PERSONALITY

Richard Fortune is a hard-ass detective, gruff, blunt and to the point. He is often moody and usually is staring down at a glass of whiskey with a beer chaser as he finds it keeps him calm in times of need. Not well liked on the force due to his headstrong manner and unorthodox way of dealing with gonks and boostergang members, his boss would like to see him off the books. But he is just a too damn good a detective, gets the job done and does it well. Although, much to the frustrations of his department, he has no qualms about "bending" the laws. Not one to make friends as he believes that if anyone gets too close to you in NC, it will be ones downfall.

Ricky loves his wife and child and will do anything, anything to protect them, within the limits of the law, or not.

Ricky does not like cyberwear and will try and avoid getting implants unless absolutely necessary. He has a disdain for those that become obsessed with it.

On 11/1/2022 at 4:34 AM, TheWorldmaker said:

Tactical APPEARANCE

Generally well groome but often unshavend, Ricky has Short, combed dark brown hair in a side parting, often hidden under his Trilby hat. He is a handsome man with a few scars across his face from the many encounters he has experienced over the years. He wears a long coat beneath which is usually a navy or dark brown suit and combat boots on his feet.

HISTORY

I was just an ordinary kid, born and raised in Harlem, New York just after the turn of the century. I didn't have some rough childhood or fall in with some Boostergang, Rockerboy or some bullahit. Nah, didn't happen like that. I had good folks and was looked after, y'know? Went to school, knocked around with a few buddies and got up to mischief. Just like any brat of the noughties.

 

Ricky Fortune took a sip of whiskey from his tumbler before pulling out a packet of "Aces" from his breast pocket. Flicking the packet a cigarette popped out and he extracted it from the pack with his mouth. Grabbing his silver paraffin lighter, classic 98' model, he struck the flint and lit the tobacco and took a long draw before exhaling and filling the booth with thick, blue smoke.

 

So, how d'ya end up in Night City, Rick? the Rookie asked, sipping his synthetic lemon tea.

 

Ricky sat back in his booth and paused for a moment, swirling his whiskey glass and watching the two cubes of ice spin in the dark liquid.

 

My folks had a dream. The American dream. Nuclear family. 2.4 children or some whacked idea of paradise. They were corpo's man, so I guess just followed the money. They just picked the wrong side in the end. The detective took another puff on his cigarette, letting the smoke dance slowly towards the ceiling. You want another tea? He asked his partner.

 

No thanks. Was the money in NC then?

 

Ricky snapped his fingers at the waitress ordering another large whiskey. I wasn't really old enough to remember, or to be interested. He answered. Truth is, I guess i was sold on the yarn my parents spun me. The newest city in America, yadda yadda. Damn man, i was barely heading into my teens when we got our shitty conapt out here. Ricky looked over the bar room to a wall of screens displaying the latest propaganda from Night City.

Listen choom, he said turning back to his companion. Not long after we moved here, shit went down. I was born in the midst of the second Corp war, so new no different, but the third...I was old enough to understand and it was thrown in our faces every goddamn day. Ma n' Pa ended up fallin' foul of the 2016 Cyber Assault. They had stocks. Shares man. Lost the fucking lot. Within a week, we had nothing and they couldn't even afford to pay the rent... Ricky swore to himself. Desperate times, man.

 

So all this Corpo, Cyber bullcrap....how on earth did that make you become a cop?

 

Ricky stared at his partner with a long, icey gaze as he recalled just why he became a man of the law. Listen, Pete. Desperate times make for desperate measures. My Pa lost everything and began to turn to drink. Ma nagging in his earholes daily, and rightfully so. It was his duty to provide, and he wern't. He turned to the dark, got in with a bad crowd, y'know?

 

Pete nodded in understanding.

 

He ended up getting involved in a gig of some unknown. A Fixer by the name of Baz Oldham. Long in the turf now though, good fucking riddance. Ricky paused for a moment as he recalled the past. The gig involved some highly illegal profiteering and my old Pa thought he could one up Baz and siphon some 'eddies of the top. As if these guys wouldnt know if a nickel went missing. The whole gig got messy and some other boostergang got in on the action and Baz ended up losing out. Suffice to say, Baz turned out to be the kind of Bag Man you dont **** with. Has Choombas in high places.

 

Sounds messy. Pete interjected. Ricky nodded and gulped down what remained of his whiskey.

 

Messy aint the word. Baz called in some Wise Guys from Watson who set this whole case up against me Pa. Raided the hole we were livin' in and iced me Ma. God rest her soul. Me Pa then got rigged for a bust and was tried for her murder. Got sent down and has been doing bird for the last few decades.

 

And that's what made you want to be a cop? Jeezus Rick!

 

Yeah kind of. I wanted to bang up these lowlifers. Make 'em pay for what they did. Whack a few on the way, y'know? The streets man, get worse by the day and I just wanna make it better. If not for my Pa, then in the name of me Ma. Rick paused for a moment and stared at the bottom of the whiskey glass. Trouble is... he took a long sip. Bein' a cop just don't pay the bills...