Locate & Retrieve

[TheWorldmaker]

Time: 6:03AM

Weather: 16*, overcast, slight westerly winds, no precipitation

 

Cigarette smoke filled his lungs as he lounged, back pressed against the cool steel of the car behind him.  His sunglasses protected his eyes from the burgeoning sunlight that was beginning to peak between the towering buildings before him, but that did not stop the headache from slowly building.  He mentally cursed the Pastor for having him get up this early, or at least not warning him that he would be doing this, so he could have skipped out on some festivities last night, and wouldn't feel like he just got a new brain implant this morning.  Castille and Herald was a safer spot than most in South Night City, if only because it was exposed and most of the gangoons in the area did not want to be caught out in the open if they started shit.  The area was still poor and dangerous though, and he had to be aware of that, but that was why he made sure to bring his iron, regardless of how the Pastor felt about that.  At this time in the morning, most of the people who were out and about were generally harmless, the gangers were still sleeping off hangovers, and the homeless were still tucked into their corners of the street, trying to avoid being awake, and thus the suffering.  The people who occupied this hour of the day were just trying to get by, whether or not they were refugees from the nuclear holocaust, pushed here due to not having anywhere else to go, or they were here before hand and had always roughed it.  Another puff of smoke left his lungs as he exhaled.  He was sympathetic for their plight, he truly was, after all, his faith taught him everyone should be kind to one another, but that kindness could only stretch so far, especially in a hell hole like Night City.  These people had to help themselves first, he could not help them.  

 

Where were these fucking mercs?  He wanted to get this shit done and head home so he could crawl back beneath the sheets and ignore the world like most of the residents of the city right now.  He ran a metal hand through his short blonde hair before scratching the back of his head and yawning, letting the remnants of his last drag fill, then escape his lungs.  Tossing the cigarette to the street, he put his 'ganic hand into the pockets of his red leather pants, and used his metallic hand to smoothe out the creases of his leopard print jacket which was worn over a loose fitting black tank-top.  He looked pretty incognito this morning considering all things.  The Pastor liked making sure his men looked respectable and ready for church, but he had taken the initiative this morning to make sure he did not stand out among the rest of the goons that would be around here, he just looked like some fool who stayed out way too late after the club last night, just as planned. 

 

@Cirlot@Drifter One@Grendel@mattilald

Edited November 29, 2022 by TheWorldmaker (see edit history)

[Drifter One]

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.

 

 

 

 

Edited November 30, 2022 by Drifter One (see edit history)

[mattilald]

Mercedes Thomas - Media

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

INT: 8 | REF: 7 | DEX: 6 | TECH: 7 | COOL: 8 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 5 | MOVE: 4 | BODY: 3 | EMP: 6

---

Humanity: 60 | Wounds: 0 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Addictions: 0

Heavy Pistol Belt Holster
Skill: Handgun
Damage: 3d6
Magazine Size: 8
RoF: 2
Hands: 1 | Combat Knife Bayonett
Skill: Melee
Damage: 1d6
Hands: 1 | 

 

Castle and Herald? Huh ... that's South Night City. Shit, I'm not going to make it on time, unless I go right away. She quickly freshened herself and got into her clothes, her dark blue grey office slacks, boreaux red&dark blue grey single breasted jacket. Bodeaux red trilby hat and her chrome mirrorshades. Even using maglevs, gettig where was going to take better part of the hour. She had to pack her gear quick - her camera, her recorder, laptop, pockpicks, gun, and her bayonett. Her job was to et the package without violince, but South NC was one of combat zones.
She took maglev to Little Europe, and then switched to a direct line to South NC, it woud dump her out of close to Castle and Herald.
She wouldnt act like she belongs in her expensive corpo set, but she could at lest act like it. Rosalie could act like a great many things, but today she choose to put on her friendly everyman act. When she arrived, she found a man with a brown coat, smoking standing like he owned the street. Not like the owned the place, just a street. Next to him a man in a in red lether pants and leopard pattern jacket. Either pastor sent her into a trap, or the cop was moonlighting.

She put on a smile "Helo, I've been asked search for something in this area."

Edited December 1, 2022 by mattilald (see edit history)

[Grendel]

LADY KOI (Akari) - FIXER

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

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

---

Humanity: 73 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Perception: +13 | Evasion: +10

Heavy Handgun | +10 skill | 3d6 damage | 8 standard ammo | 2 RoF |  1 handed | Concealable

 

Lady Koi resigned herself to taking the train as well, riding along with eyes and ears open well aware of the risks.  Already this job lacked a certain appeal, but she committed, and she was going to see it through.  She got off at the closest station and saw another woman getting off as well.  Well dressed in a suit, looked out of place and corporate.  I guess everyone was down on their luck these days.  She followed the other woman to Herald and Castle, spotting the two men standing there smoking.  “Good morning,” she says pleasantly.  “Pastor Robert sent me,” she added.  She wore converse and ankle socks, pleated skirt, t-shirt and blouse with her oversized armorjack hoodie over and had a smallish messenger bag slung crosswise. 

[Cirlot]

 TRISTAN "KAT" CAMPBELL - NOMAD

---

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

INT: 5 | REF: 8 | DEX: 8 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 7 | WILL: 7 | LUCK: 3/3 | MOVE: 7 | BODY: 7 | EMP: 3/5

---

Humanity: 26 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Mustang Arms Mk IIIHvy. Handgun 3d6 | ROF 3 | Hands 1 | Concealable
Shots (12): ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊ Reloads (5): □□□□□ | Big KnucksMedium Melee Weapon 2d6 1/2 AP | Brawling3d6 | Arasaka Kuma LRVCompact Ground Car - CHOOH2 Powered
Seat 6
Combat Speed 20
Narrative Speed 100 MPH
SDP 70 / 70

Upgrade:
>Seating Upgrade
>Heavy Chasis (+ Tow cable)
>Housing Capacity (RV for 1 w/ toilet, shower & kitchen)

Ramming Attack: 6d6

 

The Kuma growled along the blacktop, rumbling through the congested urban arteries of the City - halting at the construction clots and vering off into the back alley capillaries with the other mercantile traffic - a rust red blood cell spewing CO2 into the body civic.  Views of the bay over the barrier walls of US16 faded into the shadowed snarl of high rises and then lower, older construction mingled with the industrial remnants that once dominated the old port district.

 

The smell didn't fade tho.  Day old noodles.  Not the cat crat, oddly, just the noodles, which would probably be worrisome if he knew the stall.  Some synthetic sesame and scallion gone to rot in the NC heat clung to the seats; held at bay only by the air rushing through the half open cab.  Left him in the odd position of having to be grateful for the ozone and saltwater algae funk of the harbor.

 

Impatient fingers and cyber-hardened knuckles tapped a staccato on the steering wheel as the Kuma pulled northbound onto Castille.  He was running analogue this trip - as he had every trip, since Rache.  The Kuma might have been wired for DNI but with her gone he didn't trust himself to debug the systems if whatever she'd been running had been . .  left, there.  And so long as that CPU maintenance required icon on the dash stayed lit he -

 

Cat killed the thought as he caught sight of the corner, his relaxed face shifting closed into a professional mask.  Firing up his agent he sent a local-area ping, mirroring the pastor's own.

 

Might as well tell 'em the ride was here.

 

---

 

A mottled rust red and gunmetal grey Kuma swung out of the driving lane into the gutter, kissing the curb and in true Night City fashion mounting it with two tires for want of an actual parking space before halting into a parked idle.  Where the red paint had not been rubbed down to the base metal or hastily painted over in a rushed hurry a few fragmentary spray-painted words were scrawled and visible - nothing cohate save a neon blue question a decade late and some eddies short.  The man inside the rollbar framed cab killed the engine with a jerk below the steering column but didn't move, instead folding lanky, armor-jacked arms over the wheel and turning a deadpan cyberoptic gaze towards the smoking men and lingering women at the corner.

"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." 

Edited December 3, 2022 by Cirlot (see edit history)

[Drifter One]

 

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."

 

Edited December 3, 2022 by Drifter One (see edit history)

[Drifter One]

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):

 

 

Edited December 3, 2022 by Drifter One (see edit history)

[mattilald]

Mercedes Thomas - Media

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

INT: 8 | REF: 7 | DEX: 6 | TECH: 7 | COOL: 8 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 5 | MOVE: 4 | BODY: 3 | EMP: 6

---

Humanity: 60 | Wounds: 0 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Addictions: 0

Heavy Pistol Belt Holster
Skill: Handgun
Damage: 3d6
Magazine Size: 8
RoF: 2
Hands: 1 | Combat Knife Bayonett
Skill: Melee
Damage: 1d6
Hands: 1 |

 

Rosalie had seen the young woman going the same way when she left the sttion. She was slightly wary of her, but she concealed it. It was both a relief and surprise when she anounced she was there for the job. She was about to introduce herself when the big offroader roared into the view. Those implied offroad capabilities looke like they weren't designed to be just for show. Open barebones design implied, that design had non-civilian origins.
As the dist settled, she leaned on the rollbar facing the drive. "Nice ride you got. It looks like it could traverse any terain. I'd loe to take a ride sometime" she clonluded that with a wink, before turning to rest of the group. "It seem introductions are in order. I'm Rosalie, you can call me Rosalie, it's not my given name, that's reserved for my friends. Now, pastor mentioned a shard? Who's got it?"

She waited for the pastor's man to give over the shard. "Someone will have to slot the chip. Since we are going to be discussing sensitive matter can't talk about it in public. We can have a drive and talk about during the ride, or we connect with our agents and talk there."

Edited December 4, 2022 by mattilald (see edit history)

[Grendel]

LADY KOI (Akari) - FIXER

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

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

---

Humanity: 73 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Perception: +13 | Evasion: +10

Heavy Handgun | +10 skill | 3d6 damage | 8 standard ammo | 2 RoF |  1 handed | Concealable

 

"Hello Ricky," Lady Koi says with a slight bow.  She looks at the monstrosity of a vehicle pull up on the sidewalk with more than a little trepidation and noted the driver didn't introduce himself.  The other woman then approached and acted very familiar with the car, leaning on it casually, and she shrugged inwardly thinking they were acquainted.  "Hello to you as well, Rosalie.  They call me Lady Koi; it will do," she replies with another shallow bow, introducing herself in turn.

 

[Cirlot]

  TRISTAN "KAT" CAMPBELL - NOMAD

---

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

INT: 5 | REF: 8 | DEX: 8 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 7 | WILL: 7 | LUCK: 3/3 | MOVE: 7 | BODY: 7 | EMP: 3/5

---

Humanity: 26 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Mustang Arms Mk IIIHvy. Handgun 3d6 | ROF 3 | Hands 1 | Concealable
Shots (12): ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊ Reloads (5): □□□□□ | Big KnucksMedium Melee Weapon 2d6 1/2 AP | Brawling3d6 | Arasaka Kuma LRV

 

Tristan's lip twitched, an involuntary lopsided smirk at Rosalie's wink; the smirk stuck even as he sighed, pushing hmself back from the wheel and leaned across the open seat.  Craning his head out the window he lifted a single hand - not quite a wave, somewhere more flippant than a salute - in a sort of shrug aimed in Lady Koi's direction.

 

"Kat." his eyes go from one to the other in order: Ricky. Rosalie. Lady Koi.  He tries to repeat the names silently in his head, get 'em to stick.

And then there's the man without a name; the mysterious fifth in their street-corner quartet.  Kat made an assumption, ran with it.

 

"'Glasses, you the pastor's man? Rosa - " Kat almost shortens the name, catches himself with a stumbling inflection.  " - lie's got the right idea about getting a roll on while we talk, if we wanna keep this broadcast null.  If I'm sticking around here though, Ricks' got the right idea.  Just lemme know if I'm staying or goin' since you're the boss."

OOC

INT 5 EMP 3 everybody!  Only screwed up your names 2 for 2.  😏

 

[TheWorldmaker]

When it rains it pours, the group arrived within a few minutes of each other, for which the priest was thankful, he didn't want to have to explain himself more than once.  When the Lawman rolled up, he felt his trigger finger itch for a moment, old habits die hard.  The man was something right out of a film noire, not that he had ever watched any, but he'd seen the BD ads for those shitty old movies.  Hat pulled down a bit low, collar up on his coat, and a face that belonged last century.  After raising his lighter for the man to use, he took another puff on his deathstick before answering, letting the smoke rise from his mouth as he spoke. 

 

"Yeah, I know him, you one of our new hires?  Delivery drivers ain't cheap these days"

 

Before any further conversation could be made, another one showed up, and again, those old habits died hard as he initially copped her for a corpo, but if memories served correctly, she was a media, pretty new to the scene, probably with the same suicidal attitude all medias seemed to possess, but made even worse with that new kid on the block energy, with something to prove.  He adjusted his sunglasses on his face, he didn't need to be part of any exposés.  He nodded as yet another member of the party arrived, looking less than impressed by the whole scenario, but definitely equipped.  The sound of a rumbling nomad car could never be missed, and he assumed, as the rumbling engine grew louder, that the last member of the team had arrived.  To say he pulled up was a generous description of his veering out of the alleyway and onto the curb, but he pulled up behind the black SUV that the priest had arrived in, and through the open window, asked basically the same thing everyone else did.  Yeah, he was here with the Pastor.  

 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm the guy, you're my delivery drivers, that's good, you got a car, you might need it, no need to get in the car, this won't take long"

 

His eyes scanned the group, the one who looked most tech savvy was the media, so he fished a small device from his pocket and held it out to her.

 

"We don't exactly know where this thing is, but we have a short range GPS tracker we normally use to locate dead drops, it works in a range of about 250 meters, it'll ping when you're in range, and get faster as you get closer.  Someone told me you could probably increase the range, but I haven't had to.  The package was taken from the back of the truck, so you're probably on the lookout for some scavs or something, but I don't have any info.  As far as we can tell, we ain't got any intel on it leaving South NC or turning up at any of the usual spots where these scavs sell their shit, so if we're lucky, it's still here.  You know the rules, don't open it once you find it, and try not to kill anyone, personally, I don't give a shit if you zero some scav assholes, but the Pastor likes to keep his hands clean"

 

With one last drag of the cigarette, he tossed the butt on the street and got in his car, igniting the engine and driving off. 

[Grendel]

LADY KOI (Akari) - FIXER

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

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

---

Humanity: 73 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Perception: +13 | Evasion: +10

Heavy Handgun | +10 skill | 3d6 damage | 8 standard ammo | 2 RoF |  1 handed | Concealable

 

"Wow, that was, uh, quick.  He didn't even introduce himself," Lady Koi says watching the repaid retreat of the poorly dressed man.  Turning to the others she adds to Kat "with your permission" and climbs into the back, careful with her short skirt, and settles into the center of the bench with her knees together.  While she preferred the front, she figured whoever held the sensor should sit there.  "A typical city block* is less than half that 250 m range, so we should be able to drive around and pick it up.  Unless it is high up somewhere," she adds hands on her lap waiting for the next move.

 

---

OOC:  Typical US city block is 1/10 mile or 528 feet, give or take.

Edited December 6, 2022 by Grendel (see edit history)

[Cirlot]

  TRISTAN "KAT" CAMPBELL - NOMAD

---

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

INT: 5 | REF: 8 | DEX: 8 | TECH: 5 | COOL: 7 | WILL: 7 | LUCK: 3/3 | MOVE: 7 | BODY: 7 | EMP: 3/5

---

Humanity: 26 | Wounds:  | Critical Injuries:  | Addictions:

Mustang Arms Mk IIIHvy. Handgun 3d6 | ROF 3 | Hands 1 | Concealable
Shots (12): ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊◊◊◊ / ◊◊ Reloads (5): □□□□□ | Big KnucksMedium Melee Weapon 2d6 1/2 AP | Brawling3d6 | Arasaka Kuma LRV

 

"Bien sûr." Kat nodded, popping the latches on the passenger seat and swinging the backrest forward, allowing Lady Koi a slightly easier scramble into the surprisingly roomy passenger compartment.  Leaving the seat half-cocked for the next passenger Kat instead fired up the engine, the Kuma shaking to life with a low rumble before smoothing out into a purring idle.  Then, adjusting the rearview, Lady Koi's prim and proper posture slid out of his eyeline as the mirror re-squared on the road.

 

"Apologies for the smell.  'Booster trouble." more a prank, really.  He left the amendment unsaid even as the old-noodle smell marinated the cab  - any trouble with a 'boostergang that didn't end up in the bodylotto or with a Trauma Team ride was definitionally small crat.  Turning his head in a low slouching lean out the driverside frame, the nomad eyeballed the traffic on the street, watching the ebb and flow of the Combat Zone before grunting once to himself and turning back, looking to Koi and then to Mercedes.

 

"Either of you strapped?" he'd bet money Ricky was, but with the civie types it never hurt to be sure.  "Not for when we find the gonk, but if we're making a square search or runnin' a track in the 'Zone the local wildlife might end up taking interest."

Edited December 6, 2022 by Cirlot (see edit history)

[Drifter One]

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.

Edited December 6, 2022 by Drifter One (see edit history)

[mattilald]

Mercedes Thomas - Media

---

Head Armor: 11 | Body Armor: 11 | Shield: 00 | HP: 40

INT: 8 | REF: 7 | DEX: 6 | TECH: 7 | COOL: 8 | WILL: 8 | LUCK: 5 | MOVE: 4 | BODY: 3 | EMP: 6

---

Humanity: 60 | Wounds: 0 | Critical Injuries: 0 | Addictions: 0

Heavy Pistol Belt Holster
Skill: Handgun
Damage: 3d6
Magazine Size: 8
RoF: 2
Hands: 1 | Combat Knife Bayonett
Skill: Melee
Damage: 1d6
Hands: 1 | Weapon 3DISPLAY CONTENT | Weapon 4DISPLAY CONTENT

 

 

"Rosa will be fine too, it it's easier to remember," she told Kat, before entering his landcar. She sat herself in front. Nobody else was sitting there, and nobody else seemed interested in the tracker. She strapped herselt in and booted up the tracker.

"That's a very dictionary reading of what he was saying. I thought it was obvious, he didn't want to advertise that he knew he was talking to mercenaries. " Rosalie motioned her free hand Kat to start driving."No flatlining anyone unless we have no other choice.As for scavs, well they'll take anything especially if it's protected only by the shoddy car trunk lock. It might have just sentimental or blackmail value, and thus little value unless you know all the deets. If it's genuinely valuable, it's unlikely whoever has will give it over." She paused a bit as she was  tinkeringwhat skill check would I need to make to try and boost range? with the tracker, trying to hat needs to be done to boost it's range. "Mercs would have move out of here allready, meanig it could also be on of the local gangs. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We do this smart, think before you act. We figure where the package is, we scope who has it, and from there we can figure how to proceed."

 

 

Edited December 6, 2022 by mattilald (see edit history)