Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
--The Clash, London Calling
Title: Seattle Calling
Author: Zen_Pollo
Number of Threads: 1
Started: 7 November 2008
Status: Ongoing
Average Installment Length: Short
Average Frequency of Installments: Weekly
Available for Download? YES!
Style: 3rd person narrative
Overview: The campaign is based around corporate intrigue and espionage surrounding a particular election in Seattle. The players each come from different Megacorps whom have instructed their minions to band together for a common, albeit unknown at this time, purpose.
(Note: each vignette in this series was printed and read outloud by the players during the game. I use the vignettes to demonstrate to the players that more is going on behind the scenes than meets the eye...)
Scene: Steam roils in the air of a sauna and massage parlor. Gleaming white tiles match the immaculate, but vacant gazes of the gesha-bunraku puppet girls tending to the needs of their well-appointed clientele.
In a private room two massage tables are occupied by two men lying on their stomachs; two girls with the high-beam smiles of someone whom has had their personality turned-off knead the men’s shoulders.
The first man is a virile young buck that spends too much time at the gym.
Craig T. Hopi: How is the massage, Johnny? Do you need anymore scotch?
The second man is much older – he has the kind of hair that could have made him a UCAS Senator or a tri-vid game-show host.
Johnny Johns(weakly): I’m fine, sir.
Craig T. Hopi: Good. Now let us talk about the matter at hand. Shall we?
Johnny Johns(gulps): Of course.
Craig T. Hopi: Have you received the funding?
Johnny Johns: Yes, the money has been all accounted for. I have diverted the funds as we have agreed.
Craig T. Hopi: This pleases me. I hate to waste money. What about the minions?
Johnny Johns: I’m working on recruiting them as we speak.
Craig T. Hopi(Sharply): What!? I thought the matter was resolved.
Johnny Johns(whining): It’s difficult to find the right combination of talent. Besides, the others are loathe to risk valuable assets for this operation.
Craig T. Hopi: Take care, Johnny Johns, I would hate to become disappointed with you (he grins maliciously).
Johnny Johns(He takes a big swallow of scotch): You won’t be disappointed sir. I’ll make it happen.
Craig T. Hopi(Coolly): I am glad we have an understanding … now where is that masseuse?
London calling to the faraway towns
Now that war is declared-and battle come down
--The Clash, London Calling
Setting: The Horizon Hardcopy production studio. Two chaps sat in an office with one windowed-wall watching a tri-vid screen on the desk. Silk-screened letters on the glass wall read, Alexander McQueen, Production Counsel.
The first was a mousey lad, Jimmy Get-My-Coffee; he had the perpetually rumpled look of someone that can’t afford to send his clothes to the dry cleaners. Jimmy licked his lips nervously and kept glancing through the glass wall to the hallway outside.
The 1 to Jimmy’s 0, Alexander McQueen, Esq. was a handsome elf in his late twenties dressed as fashionably as only a twenty-something hipster with no student-loan debt can muster. Alexander’s personal grooming and choice of clothing alone could get him more trim than a strip-mall barbershop. Unfortunately, Alexander prized a woman whom was out of reach, but not out of sight…
For hanging in the holo-space of the tri-vid floated the svelte anchorwoman of Horizon Hardcopy, Lollipop. Lolli’s white and red swirling nano-tech hair implants undulated and changed light intensity with the mood of the news; somber and straight during the report of the stock market losses, bright and feathered for the color-commentary on the puppy adoptions in Renton. Lolli’s sculpted features could be used on an informercial for nuevo-botoximine, but Alexander knew that she was all natural – after all, he had had to vet her background story and pay for the theft of the medical records himself.
But good genes ran in the family; Lollipop is the daughter of Candi Cain, a former reporter of Network News 54 which was bought-out by the Horizon Media Corporation after the crash of ’64. Strangely enough, Candi Cain was now the elder stateswoman in The View:2070 Edition (owned and operated by Neo-News Net, a subsidiary of the Horizon Media Corporation).
Media personalities are like twinkiesnacks; if you inject enough chemicals in them, they’ll last forever.
“Let’s see how the dockworker strike piece turns out,” stated Alexander.
“How’d you get the paydata, Lex?” asked Jimmy Get-My-Coffee as he quickly jumped up with the hyper-tuned office-senses of someone that has no marketable skills and a sub-prime mortgage on his condo.
“Yes, McQueen, how did you get the data?” asked a middle-aged man wearing the power-suit his wife bought him for Christmas. As the tan-skinned man strode into the room, an Augmented Reality Object (ARO) poped up on Jimmy and Alexander’s smartlenses reading, Felix Gomez, Executive Producer, Horizon Hardcopy.
Smiling coldly, Alexander replied, “I went to law school with one of the negotiators – it’s amazing what lengths some guys will go to cheat on their wives.” Pointedly, Alexander glanced at the tri-vid showing Lollipop (flaming red highlights) reporting on the labor-strike story.
Smartingly, Felix grunted out, “Jimmy, go get me some coffee!”
Jimmy scuttled out of office – he knew who synth-a-butters his breadsnacks.
“Now, McQueen, it is my distinct pleasure to inform you that you have been terminated,” grinned Felix – not even bothering to activate the office’s PrivacyGuard2100 sonic screener.
“No, I don’t think so,” said Alexander – he also knew who synth-a-butters his breadsnacks – and it was not Gomez. “Why don’t you tell me what all this is about?” stated Alexander as he casually instructed his commlink to activate the sonic screen (for outside the office), and his micro-audio-recorder (for inside…)
“Well, McQueen, it seems the spirits of the corporate hierarchy have granted my fondest wish. You’ve been reassigned to a special workgroup.” Felix chuckled, “So that means, you ARE terminated from this workgroup – after all, you are an expensive asset and this office space is burdened to my internal accountants payable.”
“Special workgroup? I haven’t seen any communication regarding this transfer.” Alexander quickly pulled up his work email account on his personal commlink. The floating ARO containing Alexander’s unread mail showed 83 unread messages – none of which indicated an internal transfer. “What are you going on about, Felix?”
“The United Way Golf Tournament, McQueen, didn’t you read the memo?” a triumphant Felix mimiced a golf swing, “I hope you have a good handicap – I would hate for you to make a fool of yourself in front of the company execs.” Chortling to himself, Felix strutted out of the office screaming, “Jimmy, where’s my coffee???”
But Alexander was already ignoring Felix. Alexander quickly called up the memo in question from his commlink and the Augment Reality Object email obediently came into being floating in the air in front of his face,
“What the Frack!?!”
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 21st December 2008 at 05:47 AM..
Alexander McQueen, An Elf Face\Mage Detective\Lawyer -- A real nancy-boy fancy-pants Darien Slone, a Troll Bodyguard -- A drek-stomping cyborg killer Carlito Lontoh, a Human Scientist -- Is he MacGyver or McGruber?
More to Come!
-ZP
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 14th December 2008 at 02:36 AM..
London calling to the underworld
Come out of the cupboard, all you boys and girls
--The Clash, London's Calling
Setting: The waiting room outside a corner office in the Areas Macrotechnology complex. An RFID tag on the door projected an ARO reading “Eric Jordon, Senior VP”
Looking about as comfortable as a Brahma-bull wearing a cheap-suit and smartgoogles, Slone sat in a chair in the office’s waiting room area. The chair was really just an aesthetically pleasing modern interpretation of a chair – predictably, the situation appeared as though the troll was taking a “wide-stance” to pass a high-fiber meal after three days of constipation.
Slone sat across the room from an administrative assistant seated at a fine cherry wooden desk with the grains in the wood bio-engineered into Ares Macrotechnology logos.
You only call ‘em secretaries if you have to cover for the boss with his wife, thought Slone.
But unlike the furniture, Shelly was not a trophy-piece. Slone knew the administrative assistant was very efficient at her job, which was why Mr. Jordan retained her services. For that matter, efficiency was the same reason Mr. Jordan retained Slone’s services. In fact, Slone was pleased with his work situation. Few trolls made it into corporate ranks, even as a body-guard.
Still, Slone admired the Shelly’s youthful appearance. Shelly had the exotic look of someone from….wherever…
Slone’s mind wandered to the “Service” he had performed for Shelly. Slone remembered having to pull the man’s teeth out of his knuckles afterwards…bloody chucks of calcium in the convenience store sink…
Slone’s enhanced audio earpiece cued him to the footsteps approaching the door to the office from the other side; one set of footsteps was as familiar to Slone as his own, the other set reminded Slone of someone he could not quite place.
As the door opened, Derrick Silverman walked out. As Derrick walked out from the office, the piezoelectric nano-fibers in the carpet turned the floor into a giant screen flashing corporate messages, videos and other useless data – all personalized to Derrick’s personal area network(PAN). But few no one was looking at the floor.
Slone groaned to himself, Dammit! The human’s bandaged, broken nose and bruised features appeared worse than the last time Slone had seen him. The other figure was Eric Jordan, Slone’s boss, mentor and, occasionally, apologist.
The corporate razor-boy gave Slone the stink-eye as he glided past. Slone secretly envied Derrick’s speed and grace. Derrick had the mega-nuyen gait that only black-market tech and extensive surgery could provide. Of course, Derrick’s speed hadn’t helped him much during their scuffle.
Who brings a cruise missile to a fist-fight, anyways?, thought Slone as he smirked at Derrick walking by with a cloud of messages trailing on the carpet behind him.
“Slone, come in, I wasn’t expecting you, didn’t you get the email?” said Mr. Jordan as he hurriedly ushered Slone into his office. Slone thought Mr. Jordan looked nervous as the boss glanced at Silverman’s departing form.
“What email?” said Slone as he ducked into the posh corner office. As Slone entered the room, a slew of AROs crowded the view from his smartgoogles – everything from the readout on the temperature control unit to the automated coffee maker telling him it was time for a refill of NovaCaffe.
Brushing aside the AROs, Slone admired rest of the décor in the office. The office had the spare modern look of a man whom could afford the best corporate interior decorators and the moxie to flaunt it to his coworkers. Unfortunately, the best-corporate-interior-designer-money-could-buy had strange notions of the appropriate size of furniture for troll body guards, so Slone chose to remain standing in front of the sleek desk which was a larger version of the one outside.
Swirling around his feet were carpet messages describing the virtues of the corporate weight-loss program. Guess the carpet can’t figure out why I weigh so much, thought the over 350 kg troll.
Mr. Jordan moved around the desk and sat down with his back to Slone. As Mr. Jordan sat down he sighed, “When are you ever going to check your email, Slone?”
“Shelly prints it out for me,” replied the troll matter-of-factly.
“Well, what about this one?” Mr. Jordan waved his hand over his head and an ARO appeared in the air above the desk in the display of Slone’s smartgoogles.
“United Way Golf Tournament?” questioned Slone, “I don’t golf.”
“Slone, think of this event as an opportunity to advance in the organization. All manner of executives will be attending and you’ll get to network with them.”
Slone stated flatly, “Networking.”
Sighing, Mr.Jordan turned around to face Slone across the desk and said “Look Slone, this is best I could do for you. After all, it was the cafeteria.”
Here it comes, thought Slone.
“Did you have to break his nose AND put him through a table?” an exasperated Mr. Jordan queried.
“YES,” stated Slone. As he placed both softball-sized hands on the desk the pseudo-wood groaned under his mass.
“Easy there, big guy,” relented Mr.Jordan, “Perhaps it is best if you lay low a bit till things cool down around here. Derrick has friends in high places who are clamoring for your head on a platter. Now, it was all I could do to get you placed on this special assignment.”
“What assignment?”, grumbled Slone.
“Just go to the tournament and you’ll see – it’ll be good for your career – mark my words!”
London is drowning-and I live by the river
--The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 21st December 2008 at 05:52 AM..
London calling, now don't look at us
All that phoney Beatlemania has bitten the dust
The Clash, London Calling
Setting: Late at night in a high-tech lab deep in the bowels of Evo’s Seattle Arcology. The lights were turned out in the lab, but one workstation was still lit with a phosphorescent glow. Seated at a lab table was a twenty-something lab worker.
Carlito still wore the clothes his mother bought for him; the Filipino-Thai lab tech was clad in khakis, a blue button-down shirt, bow-tie and cardigan. Of course, the garments were immaculately pressed – every crease ironed and every pleat in its place.
Mommy had bought just the right clothes to ensure Carlito never got laid in high school.
Life hasn’t changed much for Carlito since that time.
You never know when you will need to make a first impression, Carlito’s mother would say. If you were more disciplined about your appearance, Carlito, we wouldn’t need these sessions, would we?
Carlito rubbed the bridge of his nose as the errant thought passed through his mind.
Carlito’s workspace had the same perfect arrangement as his clothing; Carlito’s virtual desktop had its icons arrangement in geometric patterns sorted by function and name. Carlito sometimes spent hours arranging and rearranging its contents.
But it wasn’t Carlito’s sublimely organized workspace that had kept him at his desk all night; it was the nano-factory schematic which he had been tinkering with for what seemed like an eternity. Carlito had spent much of the day fidgeting, sorting and re-arranging the plans, but little actual work had been accomplished. The Augmented Reality space depicted by his smartglasses showed the same virtual nano-schematic which had been floating there all day.
Fortunately for Carlito, his boss didn’t mind. In fact, Dr Samrartha tolerated a little eccentricity in his lab workers – the practice fostered more freedom in their R&D work.
Ironically, Carlito didn’t need much freedom, for he was, quite literally, one of the smartest individuals on the planet.
It was not that Carlito’s great genius was some historical accident, rather he had had parents whom went the extra mile to have him genetically enhanced during conception. Better living through Eugenics! Carlito’s mother would say.
Coupled with the latest transgenetic alteration processes after he matured to adulthood, a bleeding-edge encephalon implant lodged straight into the brain and the best cultured bioware money could buy, Carlito had a gift for science and mathematics that would have been unimaginable a generation ago.
You were born perfect, Carlito, so quite whining and perform the integration.
Yes mother.
Carlito issued orders via his commlink for his nano-biomonitor to secrete some acetaminophen into his bloodstream. An Augmented Reality Object (ARO) opened up detailing the state of Carlito’s physiology as the drug entered his blood stream.
Of course, gifts of logic and reason were not the same as a true gift of genius. Carlito’s IQ might have rivaled Einstein’s, but Carlito was still stuck in the basement of Evo Corp, taking orders from a lesser scientist -- a lesser man.
Sure, Carlito had co-authorized a half-dozen papers and presented material at various bio\nano\genotech conferences, but Carlito had yet to really make a significant impact on the scientific world.
Carlito worked with scientists from around the world – virtual lab spaces allowed for his colleagues half-way around the world to appear as though they were in the lab next door.
Like Sadie, thought Carlito. Sadie was one lab tech Carlito would not mind working more closely with at all. Sadly, those feelings were not reciprocated about Carlito by many of his co-workers.
But this factor was not the reason Carlito had had trouble with the nano-factory plans all day.
Carlito had dwelled on an email he had received that morning which had taken a hold of his mind and distracted him from his tasks.
Earlier, when Carlito had confronted Dr Samrartha about the email, the good doctor had attempted to deflect his concern.
“Carlito, you know how the other labs have been coveting our workspace lately?”, asked Dr Samrartha. Carlito had nodded his assent.
“Well, they managed to convince the higher-ups that we should re-prioritize our project funding for this quarter.”
“I knew it! Those politicians wouldn’t know real science if it bit them in the … Wait a minute, what are you trying to say?”, exclaimed Carlito.
“I am afraid you have been down-sized.”
“What?!?”
“Look, my boy, all is not lost, I worked out another assignment for you. I have been informed this new project is being fast-tracked by the highest levels of the corporation.”
But Carlito’s concern was not assuaged. The rest of the day Carlito had been distracted; he felt little incentive to complete his nano-schematic when he knew that he was going to be fired any time now.
For the rest of the day, whenever it was precisely 15 minutes past the hour, Carlito would pull up and then close the mysterious email three times in a row. Only after the third time opening the email, would Carlito read the message and attempt to glean some additional insight into his new assignment.
The United Way Golf Tournament?, thought Carlito, I don’t even play golf.
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 14th December 2008 at 05:44 PM..
London calling, see we ain't got no swing
'Cept for the ring of that truncheon thing
The Clash, London Calling
Setting: The 2070 Greater Seattle MetroPlex United Way Golf Tournament was held at the Broadmoor Golf Club on the north end of downtown Seattle near Union Bay and Lake Washington. The white-wall ed facade of the three-story building had been well-maintained over the years along with the red tile roof of the clubhouse. This 146 year-old club featured the sort of immaculate greenskeeping that took an army of minions and bespoke the wealth of its members.
As Slone marched up the driveway from the bus stop a mile down Foster Island Road, he knew this gig was going to be trouble.
First, the other golfers that day were all driving to the club – no walking for the corporate salarymen coming to the golf outing.
Drek, thought Slone, this place doesn’t even have a sidewalk.
Second, almost no metahumans were present. The few metahumans were either token elven lackeys … or servants.
Looks like the golf club is keeping up with its fine traditions and values, thought Slone, as he passed an ork lumbering towards the cart area weighted down with golf bags.
But the most important reason Slone felt uncomfortable was the security. It didn’t help matters any that Slone was packing his Ruger Super Warhawk under his windbreaker. As Slone approached the squat redbrick security shack, a uniformed Knight Errant Security Specialist came out of the building to confront him.
“Can I help you?” the human security specialist asked Slone.
“I’m here to golf,” stated Slone.
“Right,” said the SecSpec.
“Here’s my invitation,” continued Slone as he waved the print-out Shelly had given him. Slone wasn’t exactly good with commlinks and for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t get his to function properly that day.
The SecSpec gingerly took the print-out between two fingers and asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” Paper print-outs were not exactly in vogue.
“Read it.”
“Right,” said the SecSpec.
“Look,” said Slone, “Why don’t you check your guest list? I’m Darien Slone.”
The SecSpec spent a moment muttering under his breath, but Slone knew that the guard was talking on a subvocal mike to the central security office.
"Where's your commlink?" asked the SecSpec.
"Its busted," said Slone.
"It's policy to keep your commlink subscribed to the club house WAN," stated the SecSpec.
"What do you want from me? The commlink's busted," shrugged Slone.
The exasperated SecSpec took out a small optical hand scanner and pointed it at Slone; the scanner captured Slone’s facial patterns and fed the resulting data back to the security office. There, the image was instantly transformed via facial recognition software into a data packet which was cross-referenced against a Social Identification Number(SIN) database located half-way around the world.
Slone knew the SecSpec was waiting to see if there were any warrants – UCAS or Corporate – under his SIN.
Honestly,
Slone also was curious if there were any warrants attached to his SIN.
After a moment, the SecSpec said, “Alright…sir…please step over here for your security screening.”
Must be all clear, thought Slone with no small amount of relief.
The guard motioned for Slone to follow him over to the back of the security building away from the other golfers whom gave Slone the stink-eye as he made the walk of shame with the Security Specialist.
The guard quickly patted Slone down. But Slone knew all the tricks of corporate security and had hidden the Ruger well. When the SecSpec was satisfied, he pointed out the tournament registration desk to the troll. “Have a good tournament, sir.”
“Right.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Alexander got dressed that morning, he looked in the mirror and thought to himself, Damn you’re a handsome SOB! The dapper elf wore some knickers, a golf cap and even had argyle socks.
After a hearty breakfast, Alexander took a taxi to the Broadmoor and waved to the security guard as he made his way into the club.
Alexander sauntered over to the registration desk, casually greeted the attendant and sent her an ARO (Augmented Reality Object) with his e-vite to the tournament, along with a text message offering drinks for afterwards. Smiling, the attendant accepted one, but not the other.
Prude, thought Alexander.
Alexander made his way to the starting area where all the golf carts were lined up waiting for the participants. The carts were arranged in numerical sequence with each golf-pairing assigned to the same number.
The attendant had given Alexander an ARO which indicated his cart. As Alexander walked down the path, his commlink displayed the ARO in the visual field of his smartlenses as if the ARO where hovering over the appropriate cart, thus eliminating the anxiety of finding one cart amongst dozens of identical buggies.
I love modern technology, thought Alexander.
As Alexander approached his cart, he spied a large troll standing about with a confused look upon his face.
“Caddy, are my clubs on the cart?” asked the elf as he slipped a 5 Nuyen tip to the troll via his commlink.
The troll gave Alexander a stoic look and said, “Sure thing, boss.”
“Good boy,” stated Alexander as he turned away to find his golf partner.
A moment later, Alexander registered surprise because he received an error message indicating the tip hadn’t gone through.
Commlink Not Found? How does the caddy collect his tips? thought Alexander.
Slone moved to the golf bag behind the cart the elf had pointed out, unbuckled the bag from the storage area and placed it on the ground immediately behind the cart.
Let’s see the scrawny leaf-eater attempt to golf without his fracking clubs, thought Slone.
After his minor sabotage, Slone went looking for his cart. Without the aid of his smartgoggles (for some reason Slone could not get them to turn on this morning), the troll could not apprehend Augmented Reality. Sadly, the registration attendant had sent Slone’s golf cart ARO for naught.
Fortunately, Slone was saved from utter humiliation when a human came up to him and shouted, “Darien Slone! Dang glad to meet you! I’m Tommy Toledo!”
The human came up to Slone and shook his hand vigorously, “Have you found your golfing partner?”
”No”
“Well, I’d like to introduce you to Alexander McQueen”
Slone glared at the nonplussed elf.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were a caddy. I work for Horizon Media,” said the elf as he recovered his composure. The elf extended his hand and gave Slone a genuine smile.
Slone took the elf’s hand in his giant paw and said, “Don’t sweat it.” For a moment, Slone felt some remorse for duping the elf; but not for long.
“So, with those long arms, you must have a killer drive,” said Alexander.
Grinding his teeth, Slone replied, “Yeah, I have ta’ watch out for things since my knuckles constantly drag on the ground.” Slone glared at the elf.
“Now, now, my good man,” interceded Tommy Toledo, “Let’s save it for the course. How about a friendly wager? 100 Nuyen a hole?”
Grunting, Slone shook his head; he knew better than to throw good money after bad. Slone really stunk at golf – at least in the simulators he had played before – Slone had never been to a real golf course.
Not discouraged the elf said, “You’re on!”
At that moment, a cartgirl drove by in drink-cart offering the golfers beer and hard liquor (along with other, less diuretic, beverages).
“Alright, now we’re talking!” exclaimed Tommy, “Give me a cocktail – make it a double and spare the ice!”
As Tommy knocked back his drink and ordered another, Carlito wandered over to the golf cart area near Alexander and Slone.
Alexander extended his hand to the Filipino, “Hello, sir, I’m Alexander McQueen, Horizon Media Corporation.”
Carlito simply stared at the elf and kept his hand at his side.
Slone grunted and thought to himself, Smart Man.
“Hey, you’re Carlito Lontoh, right? You must be with Evo Corp!” shouted Tommy as he walked back from the cart with his breath reeking of a multiple-double whiskey and sodas.
Carlito glared intently at Tommy, but still said nothing.
Slone snickered to himself, Oh Joy, this is going to be a fun-fun day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And a fun-fun day it was.
As Tommy Toledo became more intoxicated through-out the first nine holes, his game progressively grew worse.
At first, Tommy merely hit his balls into the rough. Fortunately for Tommy, modern golf balls contained imbedded RFID tags which were subscribed to the golfers Personal Area Network (PAN). Therefore, the balls displayed AROs hovering over the ball in Tommy’s smartlenses and he could find the balls in the rough easily enough.
A few drinks later, Tommy’s balls started landing in the water traps. No RFID tags would help in that situation, so the commlink automatically blocked the frustrating popups. Of course, a submersible drone paddled away underneath the water to collect the errant balls and hoard them in a wire basket to be retrieved by the greenskeeper at the end of the day.
Finally, Tommy was swinging his clubs into the ground after every stroke. “Frackin ‘eadwind. Did you see ta’wind take tha’ shot? Bulldrek!” Tommy’s behavior grew so erratic that the Pilot program on the golf cart eventually took over driving and refused to let the human steer around the course. Nevertheless, the AI’s coup d’etat of the cart controls was so subtle that Tommy hardly noticed as the golf silently whisked him from hole to hole.
Yet it was Alexander whom was truly suckling at the hind-teat of the golf god’s pig. First, Alexander’s titanium shafted club set went missing and he had to share a set with Slone. With the foreign club set, no matter how hard Alexander tried, his balls sliced to the left. Once, Alexander even struck his ball towards another golfer heading in the opposite direction on an adjacent fairway. (“FORE BITCHES!” yelled Tommy.) After that stroke, an ARO in the shape of a holo-caddy popped up sternly warning Alexander to play on his own fairway and the respect the rules of golfing etiquette.
Slone had some natural talent, augmented by muscle toner bioware, but he ended up losing all the complimentary balls the course had provided. Luckily, Slone was adroit at spotting balls left in hidden foliage by errant golfers of days gone by. Even with RFID technology, some golfers were too lazy to hack in the rough after loose balls. So by the end of the first nine holes, Slone was only down 2 balls net. Lacking his smartgoggles and commlink, Slone blithely played through the day without the inconvenience of listening to Augmented Golfing Tips.
However, Carlito did better than he expected.
Study hard and always be prepared, Carlito’s mother would say. Yes, Mother.
Therefore, Carlito had a few tricks up his sleeve – he had spent some time perfecting a nano-factory schematic to build a set of golf clubs balanced to the near-atomic level made by hard nanites in his lab. The beauty of nano-manufacturing was that entire complex machines could be manufactured in place as single integrated unit by the nanites – no bolts, screws or welds required. A machine composed of multiple pieces, no matter how well crafted, could not compete with the performance of a device built by nanites as a single unit – it was a simple fact of material science.
Unfortunately, Carlito did not realize the fundamental conundrum of golfing technology – the more refined and accurate your clubs, the more the clubs magnified your errors.
This truth was not lost on Tommy whom roundly criticized Carlito when balls flew off with strange trajectories. By the end of nine holes, Tommy had already thrown three clubs – once at the group waiting in line behind them. “Who do you think you are? I work for the UCC, that’s right, the United Corporate Council, Go ahead call security, you frackin’ punks!” slurred Tommy.
Although Tommy grew increasingly drunk and belligerent, he nonetheless worked the group containing Alexander, Slone and Carlito. Before the first hole had been played, Tommy had sent and received v-cards to both Alexander and Carlito – Tommy seemed to already have data on Slone.
There were another four golfers in the cart immediately ahead of them and Tommy would tear off periodically to chat with them too.
In fact, by end of the first nine holes, Tommy had spoken with every person in both teams. Often, Tommy would switch carts in between holes, ride with one individual or another and have quick conversations with each member of the golf-pairing
Tommy would say things like, “Hey, I heard you got laid off from your corp, you lookin’ for work?”
And,
“I make 15K plus benefits PER MONTH – that’s right you frackin’ wage-slave, I’m my own man!”
And,
“Cartgirl, more liquor! Don’t you know how much I have in my expense account?”
And,
“Of course I have insurance – I’m a Doc Wagon Gold Card member – why do you think I drink so much – I’ve got another liver growing in a vat!”
And,
“No, I don’t take orders from no damn middle-manager – I work directly for the UCC.”
And,
“What kind of work? The kind of work where I don’t asking any frackin’ questions, got it?”
And,
“Look if you can handle some moral…eh…whatever…Look, I might have a spot open for you as a contractor. An independent contractor.”
And,
“The Law? Who gives a drek about UCAS law – only corporate law matters!”
Finally, Carlito had had enough. When they stopped to rest after the first nine holes, Carlito pulled Alexander and Slone aside.
“This is not right, I think we are being setup,” stated Carlito.
“What do you mean?” asked Alexander.
“Have you heard this Toledo fellow, is he for real?” replied Carlito.
Slone stated flatly, “My boss told me they would be offering me a job, but this guy’s a train-wreck waiting to happen.”
Alexander mentioned, “Oddly enough, I agree with you on that count. Yet, Tommy has not come outright and offered me a job; he’s being amazingly evasive for someone whom is supposed to be so drunk.”
And being as vague as possible to allow for a defense of plausible deniability, thought Alexander.
“We are soooo…being set up for something and I don’t trust those other guys, they wont even introduce themselves to us!” replied Carlito.
“Just keep your eyes open,” replied Slone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately, by the time the round had completed eighteen holes, Alexander, Slone and Carlito were more confused than ever.
Alexander ended up losing 500 Nuyen after the 18-hole round of golf. Tommy tucked the money away in the “special’ account on his commlink.
Smiling, Tommy left them with a final enigmatic comment, “I’m taking the Downtown to Renton ferry tomorrow night at 9 pm if you’re interested in tearing up the town on the other side of Lake Washington! I gotta spend some of this hard-earned money!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” queried Alexander to his golfing companions as Tommy staggered back to the parking area.
Nothing but Trouble, thought Slone.
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 21st December 2008 at 06:09 AM..
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
The Clash, London Calling
Sometimes getting fired from a job appears to happen without warning; but actually most firings are carefully orchestrated events taking considerable time and energy from many levels of management.
To begin with all the power brokers must sign off on the firing:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From: FGomez@horizonmedia.com
To: JPatrickB@horizonmedia.com
Re: Alexander McQueen
Joe,
I just received word the deal is done. Security will show-up first thing in the morning. Don’t screw this up or the executives will have at you…
~~~~~~~~~~
From: Joanna Friedmont (friedmontj@aresmacrotech.com)
To: Eric Jordon (jordine2@aresmacrotech.com)
Re: Disciplinary Action Case #12443
Eric,
The board has reviewed the case and Slone is out. I know you like the guy, but facts are facts. I have another assignment that may be more properly aligned with his particular skillset. Besides, there will be a nice signing bonus for him and a finder’s fee for you for the referral…
~~~~~~~~~~
From: Monsour K. Monsour (monsourkm@evocorp.net)
To: Ranasinghe Samrartha (ranasinghes@evocorp.net)
Re: Project Funding
Dr. Samrartha,
Kindly please do not delay in the letting go of one Carlito Lontoh. As we have agreed previously after much debate, kindly proceed with the termination of Mr Lontoh so we can clear out his workspace. Please ensure all corporate property is accounted for and that no sensitive materials are compromised…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the day the firing occurs, at least three things happen:
First,
Security shows up at the workspace of the person as the news of the firing is being broken to the poor SOB – just in case things get ugly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Did they really need a security guard? thought McQueen as he gazed at the Security Specialist over the shoulder of the smirking Feliz Gomez.
~~~~~~~~~~
Good thing they brought some back-up, or I would find that scrawny human and rip him a new…
~~~~~~~~~~
“Oww, stop hurting me!” exclaimed Lontoh as the security woman dragged him by the arm out of the lab.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second,
The departing worker is informed of their severance package (if any) and bid farewell:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
fifteen grand and a Docwagon Gold membership, thought McQueen as he reviewed the severance package display on his commlink, That won't even last six weeks, what a brunch of cheap-skates!
~~~~~~~~~~
“Fifteen Grand! Not bad -- and a docwagon gold card! Woot!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Peculiar; fifteen thousand Nuyen is the exact amount mentioned by Tommy Toledo during the golfing round – as well as his insurance coverage plan, thought Carlito.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Finally,
The worker must pack his or her belongings in a cardboard box and make the walk of shame in front of their co-workers as they are escorted out of the building.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As McQueen made his way out of the office, he passed under the silent gazes of his colleagues and (former) co-workers. First, there was Jimmy Get-My-Coffee looking like a dog that had had an accident on the carpet and knew the rolled newspaper was coming down soon. Then came Joe Bob Patrick, the show’s hard working producer – he had taught Alexander a great deal about uncovering a lead yet he did not look surprised at this event. How long has he known? thought Alexander,I should have read his mind earlier – after I got that frackin’ email!
But it was the disapproving look from Lollipop that bothered McQueen the most. From the dim ochre waves of flame emanating from Lolli’s nano-hair, Alexander could tell she felt a simmering anger. Alexander and Lolli had never hooked-up but they both had played games with one another. Is this the end-game or merely a new level? I wonder what they told her?
~~~~~~~~~~
The three armed and armored security specialists had been waiting inside Mr. Jordan’s office when Slone had first entered for the meeting. After Mr. Jordan had informed Slone of the termination, he walked up to Slone and extended his hand in parting.
Slone took the human’s hand and noticed a small object in Jordon’s palm. With what Slone felt was admirable subtly, the troll slipped the packet into his pocket as he turned to walk out of the door.
As Slone exited the office, the piezo-fibers in the carpet displayed warning signs surrounding the troll so that other corporate employees would know he was persona non-grata. Walking to the elevator, Slone waved good-bye to Shelly and noticed that she had been crying. “Cya, babe,” said Slone as the elevator doors closed upon that chapter in his life.
~~~~~~~~~~
Carlito bawled like a child that was lost at the mega-mall. Carlito had never known life outside the womb-like protection of corporate patronage. As he sat on a bench outside the Evo Corp Arcology at a loss for what was coming next, a video link request flashed on his commlink.
Carlito opened the ARO(Augmented Reality Object) and saw the furtive features of Sadie Berkman looking about for security in her laboratory. “Carlito, we don’t have much time,” rushed Sadie, “This is total bull-dreck what happened to you. You’re the smartest lab tech in the entire division.”
“I know.”
“Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of this mess. By the way, Dr S. gave me these to give to you,” said Sadie as she sent a data packet across the link.
Carlito noticed the video-link ARO popped an icon indicating a file transfer request to his commlink. Carlito accepted the file transfer and watched as the data streamed onto his machine. Big file, thought Carlito.
“Well take care of yourself and keep in touch!” waved Sadie as she disconnected the vid-link.
As the link was severed, Carlito belatedly sighed, “Thanks and you too.”
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Game Notes:
1) I adjusted the rules on disposable nano-tech slighly to encourage their use in game -- the prices in the Augmentation book are too high for average players to utilize very often. Therefore, I ruled that Carlito's nano-hive actually secretes certain disposable nano-tech applications, such as destroyers and cuttters, which Carlito can use once per day. The cost for the devices in the book thus represent the cost of the nano-schemtic for the hive to manufacture the single-use applications.
2) I made loose with certain rules regarding barrriers and hardened armor -- sue me!
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 30th December 2008 at 04:42 AM..
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
The Clash, London Calling
Setting: The upper passenger deck of the 9pm ferry from Downtown Seattle to Renton. The passengers had the pinched look of those accustomed to indoor climate-control being forced to endure what otherwise might be a merely chilly evening.
That night, Carlito, Slone and Alexander found themselves seated on the upper-deck of the ferry waiting for Tommy Toledo to arrive. The trio spoke little to one another until Carlito broke the silence, “We’ve been set-up.”
“You think so?” said Slone shaking his head. Slone fingered the weapons he carried underneath his windbreaker. The note Mr. Jordan had passed him earlier had the number of a bus terminal locker which contained some rather interesting goodies.
“Yes, I do think so – it is quite obvious.” stated the oblivious Carlito. Carlito’s mind was still distracted by the data packet Sadie had sent. Most of the data packet contained schematics for the cybernetic nano-hive Carlito carried in his bowels. Sadie also added a picture of herself holding a camera and smiling. What was that about? thought Carlito.
“Well, I don’t have a job anymore, and they already paid us for this one, so I suggest we listen to what the man has to say,” reasoned Alexander.
Tommy arrived shortly thereafter wearing a full-length trench coat looking like he had had a very long day. The human nodded at the trio and plopped down on the bench next to Carlito. Carlito squirmed a bit and scooted exactly three inches further away from Tommy.
“Howdy, want a drink?” asked Tommy as he pulled out a silver flask from his coat pocket. Slone’s audio-enhancement ear-buds detected the faint whir of a device being turned on and then his audio enhancement went dead. Must be a white-noise generator, thought Slone.
“No? Suit yourself,” grumbled Tommy as he took a long pull.
“Where are the others from the golf outing?” asked Alexander.
“They couldn’t make it. Let’s get to brass tacks gentleman,” started Tommy, “Listen closely, you have all been given severance from your previous employers, but I have a new position for you as independent contractors. However, the time is coming where you have to make a choice – either stay on with me or take your chances on the street. Well?”
Nobody moved except Tommy, who took a pull from the flask.
“Alright, you’ve all been selected for this special assignment by your respective corporations. You’ll be taking orders from me and me alone. You are to have no contact with your former corps, got it?” Each of the trio nodded.
“Now, you’ll be paid on retainer, fifteen thousand Nuyen per month with health coverage under the Docwagon Gold Card.”
“What kind of work are we doing?” asked Slone.
“The kind where you don’t ask any legal questions and you do what you’re told, understand?” replied Tommy. “Got it,” answered Slone.
“Now, there will be a variety of activities taking place. You are expected to be ready at a moment’s notice. However, in between assignments you are free to do whatever pleases you.”
“Are we going to have a lab and a workstation?” asked Carlito.
“What are you talking about, Lontoh? Have you even been listening to me?” replied an exasperated Tommy, “No workstations, no Labs, no offices and no liability for your corps, got it?” Not having much choice in the matter, Carlito nodded woefully.
Tommy took another gulp from the flask, “Are you done with the questions? Good, now here’s your first assignment.” Tommy removed an eight centimeter square case from inside his trench coat and handed it to Carlito. The case automatically requested to subscribe to Carlito’s Personal Area Network(PAN) and Carlito gave approval via his commlink. An ARO popped up indicating the status and performance metrics for the device. Carlito could see that the case was a miniature cold storage unit for carrying biological samples and that two blood samples were stored within its alloyed casing.
“What are we supposed to do with this?” asked Carlito with a sinking feeling.
“I want you to exchange the samples in that unit with some samples at a government bio-med storage facility in Tacoma,” stated Tommy as he sent an ARO to Alexander containing the details of the facility and the sample IDs in question.
“The samples from the storage facility are to be destroyed. The samples in this unit are to be placed in the testing apparatus at the storage facility and you must initiate the exact tests indicated in Alexander’s file.”
“Once the new samples are in place and the testing procedures initiated, you must then destroy all evidence of the previous samples – both physical and information. That means you must go to the data-store in the complex and erase all the records associated with the previous sample IDs. With me so far?” Tommy paused as he took a swallow from the flask.
“Now, this mission must be completed with no notice by the authorities. The new samples must appear as if they were the originals and the new test results must appear authentic.”
“Most importantly, there must be no evidence linking these samples to me.”
Of course not, thought Alexander. As the elf thought about the trail of events leading to his present circumstance, he noticed the sound of a motor boat swiftly approaching the port side of the ferry.
What the frack is that? thought Slone.
That doesn’t look safe at all, thought Carlito as the motorboat came alongside the ferry and a number of gangers started to board the vessel.
Slone jumped up, rushed to the top rail of the upper deck and peered at the motorboat which was situated below him just 10 meters towards the bow of the ferry to his left. Slone noticed the motorboat was teeming with gangers wielding pistols and Molotov cocktails. “Great,” sighed Slone,”Looks like a bunch of Halloweeners!”
“There are more on the other side!” exclaimed Alexander as he heard a second boat pulling up to the starboard of the ferry.
“What the frack!” exclaimed Tommy as he leaped up, dropped his flask and ran to the opposite side of the upper deck.
Slone wasted no time, reaching inside his windbreaker and extracting a high explosive grenade. Popping the top and easily lobbing the grenade into the port-side motorboat from his vantage point on the upper deck, Slone cried out, “Fire in the hole.”
Dumbass! thought Alexander as the gangers in the port-side boat all made a break for the ferry before the grenade went off. Yet Alexander had a plan – the elf extended his perceptions to astral space and pulled down some mojo. The elf shaman started his own version of the Great Ghost Dance and crafted a Control Action spell. Targeting one of the gangers, Alexander directed the poor sod to pilot the boat away from the ferry – hopefully before the grenade went off and the gangers made it onto the vessel.
Meanwhile, Carlito made a dash down the stairs from the upper level to the lower deck. Just as Carlito reached the bottom, two of the gang leaders wielding pistols and Molotovs jumped from the motorboat to the lower desk of the ferry not 6 meters in front of Carlito. Frenzied, Carlito whipped out his pistol and took a shot at the gang leader closest to him. The bullet tore into the ganger leader’s shoulder and blood sprayed onto Carlito’s face. Hot Drek, thought Carlito whom had never shot a man before, Sweet mother protect me!
On the starboard side of the boat, the gangers leaped aboard the ferry and tore into the passengers on the lower deck, slicing them with their hand razors and cyber spurs. A couple of gangers raced up the stairs on the starboard side of the upper deck and accosted Tommy as he ran towards that side of the boat.
“Frag that Corp! Stick a razor in his Arse!” yelled Mad Haridgan, one of the gang leaders pointing to Tommy. Slone turned away from the port side and quickly drew his Ares Alpha. Firing a burst at the first minion whom threatened Tommy, Slone blasted at the ganger until his dead form flipped backwards over the balcony rail and landed on a car parked below on the lower deck – the lit Molotov in the ganger’s hand exploding on impact.
As Slone dispatched the ganger, his grenade finally went off, capturing most of the gangers scrambling over the port-side railing. Carlito watched in horror as the man he had just shot was captured first by the High Explosive grenade blast and then incinerated by his own Molotov which detonated in the secondary explosion. The entire port-side railing went up in flames as one after another, the gangers succumbed to the grenade blast and the flames of their own fiery cocktails. Soon a gasoline-fueled inferno roared in front of Carlito as the gangers writhed in pain and fell flaming into hell.
Mother forgive me, sobbed Carlito as he ran away from the flames to the starboard side of the lower deck.
Alexander was leaning over the rail when the grenade blasted the gangers to smithereens. Unfortunately for the elf, the blast literally rocked the boat and Alexander fell over the rail as he attempted to maintain concentration on the ganger he had directed to drive away in the motorboat. The elf cried out as he made a last ditch effort to grab on the rail and save himself from failing into the growing conflagration unfolding below his feet.
Of the ten gangers on the port-side motorboat, only two survived as they drove off under Alexander’s control. The grenade-damaged motorboat left a pume of smoke as it limped away from the fray.
Seeing the troll dispatch the ganger up-top, but also seeing reinforcements boiling up the stairs from the lower deck, Tommy dashed towards the same port-side stairs Carlito ran down earlier and hid in between the vehicles parked on the lower deck.
Carlito noticed Tommy attempting to hide between cars and thought to himself,Smart Man! However, Carlito turned to the gangers still accosting passengers on the lower starboard deck. Hiding behind a parked vehicle, Carlito fired some shots at the gangers and cursed as his gun jammed.
The three gangers seized the opportunity and fired shots at Carlito; the bullets screeched off the truck of the car Carlito cowered behind.
Up top, Slone starting laying into the gangers scrambling up the stairs to the upper deck near the wheelhouse of the ferry. Using his Ares Alpha submachine gun, Slone mowed down one, then another ganger just as they reached the upper deck. The flames from their dropped Molotov cocktails quickly engulfed the wheelhouse whose occupants started screaming. Watching the troll lay waste to his minions; Mad Hardigan ducked behind another passenger and took aim at the troll with his pistol. The shots bounced off the troll’s armored jacket like so many drops of rain.
Screw this! thought Slone as his synaptic accelerator kicked into gear. The bioware juiced Slone’s system so that the entire scene took on a slow motion quality. Under the effects of his newfound speed, Slone ran width of the boat and leapt off the rail into the air above the motorboat tied to the starboard-side. Falling in slow motion, Slone rotated his body mid-flight and noticed the backs of the gangers shooting at Carlito. Slone squeezed off two bursts from his Alpha into the back of the one the gangers and the Halloweener seemed to drop as slowly as Slone himself. As the ganger slumped slowly into death’s embrace, Slone turned his head towards the motorboat below him. Oh Drek! thought Slone as he crashed into the motorboat deck. The falling 350 kilogram troll crushed the one of the bench seats and cracked the fiberglass passenger deck of the motorboat.
Hearing the crash of the troll and seeing the flames sprout up both underneath him and from the wheel house, Alexander thought to himself, I did not finish law school to die like this! The elf climbed over the rail and quickly cast an invisibility spell on himself. Seeing the troll dive off the starboard railing, Alexander made a dash towards the starboard stairs leading to the lower deck.
Mad Hardigan had other plans. Hardigan saw Alexander climbing over the rail and noticed the elf disappear; the gang leader knew that Alexander must have cast a spell. Mad Hardigan saw the chameleon-like ripples from the invisibility spell as the elf attempted to reach the stairwell. The ganger leader chose his moment and struck out at the fleeing elf as Alexander ran past the ganger leader. But the odds were stacked against the gang leader; Hardigan swung in vain at Alexander and lost his balance, falling down the stairwell after the elf ran down the stairs. Alexander didn’t even notice the ganger swing at him with his cyber spurs as he ran towards the port-side motor boat on the lower deck.
Meanwhile, Carlito fought for his life as one the gangers on the lower level dashed to the scientist and struck at him with hand razors. Carltio barely fended off the melee attack and shouted out to Tommy, “Help!” But no help was forthcoming from the hidden salaryman.
Slone regained his footing and took sight on one of the gangers still on the deck. As Slone took aim at the nearest ganger, his smartgoogles informed him that his Alpha had jammed during the fall. Cursing, Slone draw his Ruger Super Warhawk with smooth augmented reflexes and fired at the gangers. Loud bullets ripped into one, then another, ganger; Slone systematically cleared the deck for Alexander and Carlito to make it to the boat. "Move it, Nancy-Boy, or you're gonna be dancing in the hot-house with those gangers!" exclaimed Slone.
Alexander wasted no time leaping over the ferry’s rail and running to the wheel of the motorboat. Seeing his companions about to depart, Carlito threw back the attacks of the ganger and made a mad run to the starboard rail of the ferry. The ganger in the scientist’s wake slashed uselessly at Carlito’s back and then switched targets to an easier prey.
Once Carlito cleared the rail and made it into the motor boat, Alexander gunned the engine. The motorboat leaped ahead of the ferry as the larger boat became engulfed in the fires of the explosions.
“Where’s Tommy?” asked Alexander over his shoulder.
“He ran downstairs, I lost him,” responded Slone as he cleared his Alpha of the earlier jam.
“He was still on the boat when I jumped over the rail,” gasped Carlito before he puked up his dinner over the rail. Slumping down afterwards, Carlito thought to himself, Hot Drek in the Morning, that was intense! The last time Carlito had been in a fight was in sixth grade – after that beating at the hands of schoolyard bullies, Carlito’s mother had insisted on corporate security walking him home from school.
Alexander navigated the motorboat away from the flaming ferry and he spied the port-side motorboat making its escape. Alexander also saw the flashing lights of the harbor patrol in the distance behind them. “Guys, we’ve got company!” Alexender warned his companions as he turned the motorboat to pursue the fleeing gangers.
Slone quickly appraised the situation and swung his newly cleared Alpha at the head of the ganger driving the escaping boat. One bullet later, the ganger slumped over the wheel and the ganger’s boat started making slow turns.
Navigating past the boat, Alexander noticed the last surviving ganger abandoned ship and started swimming to shore. That’s gonna be a cold swim! thought the jubilant elf.
Just then, Alexander’s commlink buzzed and an ARO popped up showing Jimmy Get-My-Coffee’s face on a vid-link. “Hey,’Lex, we just got a news flash off the police band – there’s a ferry fire in Lake Washington. The cops say that shots were fired!”
“Yeah, okay, look I’m kidda busy right now”, replied Alexander, “Besides, Jimmy, I don’t work for the corp anymore.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Mad Hardigan stood up from the recumbent form of Tommy Toledo. Hardigan saw the approaching lights of the harbor patrol and stooped to pick up his prize. Swinging the unconscious salaryman onto his shoulder, Hardigan ran to the port-side railing and leapt into the frigid water.
Hardigan started swimming the backstroke with one arm around the chest of Tommy Toledo. Fortunately for Mad Hardigan, the harbor patrol was busy clearing the last few gangers from decks of the ferry and rescuing the remaining passengers from the inferno.
As the gang leader swam to shore he thought, “I hope this slitch survives, Wiessman won’t pay me the full rate for a stiff.”
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 30th December 2008 at 04:54 AM..
Zen Pollo,
Great stuff! You've marvelously captured the Shadowrun atmosphere with each of these characters - though I'm particularly enjoying Slone's here-we-go-again, taking-it-in-all-stride-ness. There's something very nice about the experienced-brawn carrying the inexperienced brains.... I haven't played Shadownrun since 2nd Edition and there are obvious developments since then, but this is very recognizable and nicely written. Enjoy the game and keep it coming.
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
The Clash, London Calling
Setting: Olgas Tea Room, Tacoma. The first floor of this Russian-style tea room featured a sitting area with semi-circular booths lining the walls and set along a row in the middle of the room. The garish red upholstery clashed with the green wall paint and gilt edging on the architectural moldings. The room gave off the impression the interior designer watched the Nutcracker Suite on Synth-Acid and vomited up borscht and double-distilled vodka onto the dancing bears.
A rumpled Alexander, Slone and Carlito slid into a sticky booth in the middle of the room the corner booths were all taken by couples middle-aged salaryman with women far too pretty and too interested in them to be the mens wives.
Alexander pulled up the menu-ARO and submitted a request for three cups of the (not-so) special-blend.
Good thing I know this place, remarked Alexander, I used to come here when I was doing background investigations on stories.
Yeah, its real nice, replied the troll, dubiously, You gonna be alright, Carlito?
Yeah, Yeah, just fine, just fine, responded Carlito as he quickly stood up, took out a packet of atomo-wipes from his coat and scrubbed down the table. Then, Carlito sat back down and arranged and rearranged the place setting at his seat exactly three times before knocking on the tabletop twice and signaling for the waitress. That was just a close one, thats all, just a close one, Carlito said as he drummed his fingernails on the table top in the same sequence repeatedly. Carlitos mind still dwelled on the ganger he had shot just an hour before during the ferry attack.
Sure, good thing we were able to ditch the boat nearby I hate walking, stated Slone.
A few minutes later, a waitress approached carrying their order. The brunettes features had the perfection only surgery or genetic alteration could provide; getting tax ride-offs for cosmetic enhancements was a nice benefit of working in the entertainment industry. Do you take soy-cream in your tea, gentlemen? asked the waitress as she approached the trio.
Alexander replied before Carlito could speak, Of course you can, Double-M!
Maggie Malone exclaimed, Alexander McQueen! I hardly recognized you. Its been awhile.
It sure has Maggie. Is Olga around?
Oh, youre looking for THAT; well, why dont you just head on up like normal, sugar? Maggie coyly replied.
Whats THAT, exactly, and why do you have to go upstairs to get it? queried the scientist. Slone simply looked around the couples in the dark corners and chuckled to himself.
Well Maggie coughed delicately and leaned close to the scientist so he could take a good look down her blouse to her augmented cleavage.
OHMYGOODNESS! exclaimed the scientist. Slone and Alexander guffawed at the up-tight Carlito, but Carlito wasnt paying attention. Carlito jumped up and broke out the entire pack of atomo-wipes from his jacket pocket and began to scrub furiously everywhere he had been in contact with the furniture.
While the egghead had an anxiety attack, Alexander explained to Maggie what the trio sought.
Look, were interested in some paydata. Were working on a lead and wed like to know about the Shiawase-Tacoma Transmission Components Corporation down the road, Alexander explained.
You mean, the STTC? replied Maggie, Sure, I might know a regular customer that works there let me go find out.
Youre the best, Mags, cooed Alexander.
Meanwhile, Carlito finally calmed down enough to pay attention to his circumstances. This is madness, what are we doing in a a .? Carlito was at a loss for words.
Listen, Carlito, Maggie knows people in Tacoma, related Alexander, All the riff-raff of a certain caliber make their way through this joint. If Maggie has paydirt on anyone that works in that complex; thats our in
Carlito relaxed and placed his hands on his knees under the table. The back of Carlitos hand brushed against a sticky, viscous substance lodged under the table. The scientists eyes bulged for moment and then he ran screaming to the bathroom.
Slone leaned under the table to examine what had made Carlito react in such a fashion. What is it? Alexander asked.
Gum.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Later, Maggie returned with the paydata Alexander sought.
Theres a guy named Keith Summers who comes in from time to time. A regular corporate type. He works down at the facility, cause I read his profile one time when he forgot to switch it off after work.
Do you have his access code or his physical address, asked the elf.
I might, Maggie coyly replied.
Alexander slipped her 500 Nuyen via his commlink and Maggie transmitted an ARO with the payment records of Keiths services as well as his profiles information, including access code and physical address. Thanks, sweetie, said Maggie as she left to serve another customer.
Alexander articulated the plan, Alright, heres the score. Were going to show up at this guys house first thing in the morning and blackmail him into getting us into the compound. Now, Carlito, youre going to go to the medical building over here. Alexander pointed to a shared ARO depicting the layout of the complex in 3-D. The schematic had been part of the file the Tommy had provided them prior to the ferry incident. Once we get in the medical building, you go take care of the testing while Slone and I head to the admin building and bust-up the data-center. According to the file Tommy gave us, we have until tomorrow morning to get this job done.
Should be simple enough, sighed Carlito he had had a long night.
Its never that simple, argued Slone.
The Troll needed to relax, Now, if youll excuse me, it looks like we have some time to kill. Slone stood and walked up the stairs which groaned under his massive 350kg weight load. Alexander smiled and moved to follow Slone. You coming, Carlito?
Carlito shook his head no. Alexander shrugged and followed the troll up to the bordello.
After the duo had left, Carlito grew bored; he took out the alloyed storage unit Tommy had given him and reviewed its readings on his commlink all normal. Carlito thought about Slones earlier comment that things were never as simple as they appear.
Carlito called up Dr. Samrathas email address and sent him a video message, Dr S., I know its late and that some bad things happened yesterday, but I have a favor to ask. Im going to send you some blood samples for you to test
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, Slone and Alexander made their way to the address Maggie had provided. The building was a 10-story middleclass apartment complex that catered to the young hipster crowd whom worked for corps, but hadnt hit the big-time money yet.
Its the state-college crowd, thought Alexander as he watched yuppies leaving from the building for work.
Slone and Alexander waited at a street hawkers food cart across the street. As the duo stood sipping their nova-cafe and waiting for their mark to show-up, Slone asked the elf, I wonder if Carlito bailed on us? Last night mustve been a shock for him.
Well see. Carlito had said he was following up on a lead and that hed meet them before the run. Besides, if he doesnt show up, wheres he gonna go? Alexander mused.
As the troll and the elf watched the building entrance a couple left together. The man fit the picture of Keith Summers that Maggie had provided but the woman was unknown. The woman had a pinched and wane demeanor. The blonde was tall and willowy like a super model and had the hungry/pissed-off look of one to boot.
High Maintenance, thought Slone.
Alexander quickly scanned the public persona of the womens commlink. Most commlink users had a public persona which actively connected to the Augmented Reality world surrounding them the persona program (along with the commlink, RFID tags and wireless networking) was at the heart of the technology which allowed people to experience the Matrix overlaid on top of the real world. Most public persona contained trivial information about their users which helped marketers tailor the individuals experience of the real world into something better; Augmented Reality streaming straight into the senses.
Alexander reviewed the details of the womens persona Eileen Summers, a Virgo, Likes to Hike and Dance to trip-hip music, Status:Married.
Its the philandering that gets them everytime, thought Alexander. Let me do the talking, the elf told Slone.
The couple kissed briefly and then went their separate ways.
Alexander and Slone followed the gentleman for a few blocks and then the elf made his move. The duo approached Keith from behind and Alexander tapped him on the shoulder, Excused me sir, can I have a word?
No, frag off, replied the salaryman without even looking at the elf.
Slone stepped in front of Summers and said, No really, we just want a word.
Hey, look, I dont want any trouble, replied the salaryman backing up from the huge troll.
The elf assured the young man, Neither do we, why dont you step over here so we can chat? Without waiting for a response, the elf led Keith off the sidewalk into an adjacent alley a few feet, but not so far as to scare the young man off.
Whats all this about? I have to get to work. stated the angry human.
Well, Mr. Summers, this is about your bad habit, Alexander coyly initiated.
What are you talking about?
I am referring to your visitations to a certain establishment of ill-repute, Alexander stated.
I dont know what you mean, the human replied evasively.
Of course you dont, thats why I brought evidence, Alexander said as he sent an ARO to Keith containing the payment history from Olgas. You know, infidelity is grounds for no-fault divorce it can be very costly very costly indeed, mused the elf.
What the frag do you want? sighed the human as he scanned the receipts.
We want you to assist us in a matter we want to gain admittance to your place of work, stated the elf matter-of-factly.
No way forget it. The human turned away back to the street.
Corp before Family, He must make his boss proud, thought Slone as he grabbed Keith by the shoulder and leaned a bit.
Owww, stop it, cried the over-powered human.
Screw this, thought Alexander. The elf performed a minor shamanic dance and the mojo filled him with astral power. Alexander crafted a Mind Probe spell and investigated the humans deepest conscious thoughts. Hes hiding something, discovered the elf., but what? Probing further, Alexander discovered Keiths true secret.
Your wifes turning into a ghoul, the elf stated out loud. Slone dropped his hand from Keiths shoulder like it was on fire. The humans shoulders slumped.
It would be a shame for your corporate masters to know that your wife is infected with HMHVV; I hear that Ghouls arent covered under most health plans, smirked the elf.
Rubbing his face, the human replied, Okay, what do you want?
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Setting: The front gate of the Shiawase-Tacoma Transmission Components Corp compound. The compound sat in an industrial area of Tacoma. Gray dust and soot covered the streets and sidewalks. Even the AROs popping up had a somber tone – Marketers already had figured out the demographic in this neighborhood didn’t have the sort of disposable income to merit more flashy advertising. The only folks traversing this part of town commuted to work or had no money to spend.
Carlito met with Slone and Alexander at the front gate the just before noon. The gate was the main entrance to a 5 meter tall electrified fence surrounding the compound. Alexander looked at the giant hazard signs posted along the fence’s exterior with animated public AROs depicting stylized current flowing in endless loops along the links. The AROs were complemented by old-fashioned signs reading, “Notification of Lethal Countermeasures Beyond this Point. ExtraNational Territory Act 2001 Applies. Trespassers are not protected by UCAS law.”
Awesome, thought Alexander whom knew very well what the notice implied – the corporation wrote the law inside that compound which meant it was free to do whatever it choose to trespassers.
“So ya get what you needed?” Slone asked Carlito.
“Yep, had to run an errand,” replied the scientist. Carlito clutched the case containing the blood samples under his coat and a smaller case containing some hypodermic syringes and single-use aerosol dispensers. Carlito had siphoned off a small portion of each blood sample and had them sent to Dr. Samratha for testing earlier this morning.
Waiting with the trio was the head of the security detail, an orc with a tag that read “Captain”. Slone eyed the orc’s Ares Predator IV holstered at the hip; the orc had scratched the word “Betty” into the grip. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a cowboy, here, thought Slone. The other two members of the security detail were dwarves whom must have been identical twins – they even had the same brand of wire-framed smartglasses.
Eventually, the metahuman-sized door next to the main vehicle gate opened and Keith Summers walked out to greet the trio.
“Howdy, Folks,” greeted the human salaryman, “Glad you could make it for the interviews today on such short notice.” Keith licked his lips as he glanced at the security guard. “Have they got their security tags?” Keith asked the Captain.
The orc crossed his arms. “So you say that you didn’t have any notice for these interviews?” the Captain asked the human. The guards had already searched the group for weapons and contraband. Fortunately, Carlito’s cases and Slone’s monofilament whip had evaded detection.
Alexander didn’t need weapons.
“Ummm…it was my fault; I forgot to submit the badge request for the interview. Can you cut me some slack this one time?” pleaded the human.
The orc acquiesced, “Okay, boss, but you owe me.” The Captain waved to his minions and the dwarves moved forward and gave the trio RFID enable security badges.
Wonderful, now they can track us, thought Alexander. The elf had extreme misgivings regarding the legality of this operation and the likelihood of failure. In fact, the only factor keeping the elf going was he knew that someone in his corp had set this cluster-frag up and he had placed his trust in the corp his entire life. They wouldn’t completely slag me over, would they? mused Alexander as he followed the human. Sadly, Alexander knew the answer to that question but chose to go forward with the plan anyways.
Keith led the trio through the man-sized gate and into the compound proper. The STTC was actually several facilities rolled into one. The compound was arranged into quadrants. The first quadrant was an industrial stock yard where giant crane-drones labored to move huge transformers, ocean containers and other bulky machinery into systematic piles. The second quadrant housed a warehouse with railway access openings in the middle. Attached to the front of the warehouse was a two-story administration building. The trio could see the warehouse loading dock on the front of the structure adjacent to the admin building. The third quadrant contained the medical storage and laboratory building. The lab building was separated from the warehouse complex by a paved cement roadway 15 meters across. Finally, the fourth quadrant had the security station, the power plant and the employee parking lot.
Keith led the trio into the admin building first – the building was made out of brick on the first floor with Plexiglas lining the walls of the second. Keith walked the trio to a ground level entryway and swiped his security badge through the card reader attached to the secured entrance. When the team had entered the building, Keith gave his standard tour spiel. “This floor contains the general administration area, HR and accounting,” articulated the human. Keith pointed to the stairway on his left, “Upstairs houses the data center, the command post for the industrial drones and warehousing ops.” The human led the trio along a central path between the beige cubicles of the first floor and out through a door on the far side of the building which led directly into the warehouse. Slone noticed more crane-drones and saw that on the opposite side of the warehouse there was an opening for the railcars to leave the facility.I’ll have to remember that, thought the troll.
Turning to the left from the doorway, Keith continued to a southward facing exit from the warehouse that opened up to a paved roadway. Across the road was the gleaming medical center. While the admin building was made of brick and Plexiglas and the warehouse was made of heavy metal siding, the medical center was constructed of industrial grade mirrored Plexiglas. Keith led the group to the sealed entrance of the medical building and paused to swipe his badge so they could gain access.
As the group entered the building one-by-one, Carlito hung back and took out one of the single-use aerosol sprays from his equipment casing. While the others had been busy sating their baser needs last night, Carlito had used the downtime to secrete various nanomachines from the nanohive lodged in his abdomen. The nanohive felt like a cold turd in Carlito’s gut. Carlito told people who bothered to ask that having the nanohive implanted in his abdomen was like feeling constipated all the time. In any case, the nanohive had been busy last night – Carlito had downloaded the nano-schematics Sadie had sent him and had programmed his hive to create nanomachines he could put to good use. Just before meeting up with the rest of the team, Carlito had attached the syringes and aerosol canisters to small nipples grafted to his belly. Without his shirt, Carlito looked like a six-teated-bitchdog.
Passing the threshold of the doorway, Carlito discretely sprayed the contents of his aerosol on the door itself. The colorless aerosol adhered to the surface of the door; even an observant individual searching the door would only notice a faint-sheen of moisture on the paint. However, Carlito’s commlink popped up an ARO with the nano-spies’ video feed. Carlito had the odd experience of watching his own back departing from the entrance displayed on the vid-link in front of him. Fortunately, the ARO was private-use so no one saw the nano-spies’ video. But I’ll be able to see if anyone follows us into the building, thought the human.
While Carlito deployed his nano-spray, Alexander grew more nervous. This was as far as the team had planned. In fact, Alexander was completely at a loss for what the next step might be. The cool-headed elf hated taking a risk without a plan to mitigate the outcome.
Keith was also showing signs of strain. Without clear guidance from the group, the human led them aimlessly around the lab. First, Keith passed by the secured entrance to the bio-hazard area and then led the trio through the administrative section of the building. Keith saw Dr. Smith, the head of the lab facility, and thought to himself, This is it, I’m so getting fired!
Dr. Smith was a no-nonsense human dressed in a white lab frock; he walked directly to Keith and asked the callow man, “What’s going on here? Who are these people?”
“Ummm…these are new hires, I was giving them the tour of the facility,” replied Keith.
“I didn’t authorize any new hires. I’m going to call Bob Vance,” stated the irate Doctor.
As Smith raised his hands to manipulate the virtual controls of his commlink, Alexander had had enough. The shaman reached into the astral plane and pulled down the mojo. A Control Actions spell later and the team were in business. The elf directed the captive Dr. Smith to lead the group into the storage area for the samples. The Doctor walked stiffly like a marionette towards the containment zone.
This is going to be bad, thought Carlito, as the team reached the airlock leading to the secure bio-hazards area. Alexander made the Doctor don one of the level 4 containment suits hanging from the racks, and Carlito and the elf followed suite. Slone stood by with Keith and watched the human squirm uncomfortably while the others cycled through the airlocks.
Once in the secure zone, Carlito attached his suit to the airflow umbilical cord and the others copied his movements. The spare room painted a sterile turquoise color had few employees – the majority of the work was performed by drones remotely controlled by scientists outside the secured zone. Carlito looked wide-eyed at automated testing and material handling equipment. The real sample must be a severe bio-hazard – they don’t even let people handle the test bed equipment, thought the scientist.
The Doctor led them to a glass-sealed cabinet and interfaced his commlink with the controls. Alexander instructed the Doctor to pull the sample ID the group needed and Smith stiffly complied. The elf noticed the tightened glare of the Doctor’s eyes through the Plexiglas visor of Smith’s helmet. Alexander sent a private ARO to Carlito – Dammit, I’m controlling his actions, but he is going to remember this – what are we going to do?
As the team strategized, the auto-storage unit had retrieved the sample and lowered a tray containing several sealed test-tubes with blood samples into a small exchange chamber. The Doctor cycled out the exchange chamber and withdrew the samples to the outside of the storage enclosure. Carlito took the samples from the doctor and discretely placed them into his alloyed storage unit. Carlito then withdrew the replacement blood samples from the case and gave them to the Doctor to load into the storage cabinet. Once the fake samples were loaded into the secure cabinet, Carlito subscribed to the unit via his commlink and initiated the testing protocols required based on the test profile Tommy had provided. We’re going to have to destroy the security data – the machine probably logged my access and testing instructions, thought the scientist.
Well, now what? Alexander AROed Carlito.
In a flash of insight, Carlito took out one of his syringes and jabbed Dr Smith in the back -- puncturing through the plasticized exterior of the containment suit. Carlito depressed the plunger and injected a stream of nanomachines directly into the doctor’s blood stream. “Let’s go, now!” Carlito exclaimed quietly to Alexander.
Alexander directed Dr Smith to start walking towards the rear of the zone and the duo hastily retreated to the airlock. As the airlock door closed behind them, Carlito initiated a command via his commlink to the nanites injected into Dr Smith’s blood stream. The cutters were nanomachines designed for one purpose – to destroy all the cellular material they detected. The nanites worked wonders when you absolutely had to destroy dangerous biological materials. In this case, Carlito saw the Doctor fall to the ground as the violent seizures overtook him. The scientist knew that the hard nanite cutters absolutely would not stop shearing away at the internal organs of the host until they ran out of power. When the Doctor was vivisected for autopsy, there would be nothing but a puddle of viscous goop where his organs once stood.Sweet Mother protect me, I have committed murder once again, thought Carlito as he watched Dr. Smith convulse on the floor through the airlock window.
As the duo left the outside airlock, all hell broke loose. One of the techs had hit the bio-hazard alarm. The entire building immediately entered lockdown mode. While Carlito and Alexander shed their containment suits, Slone looked at the security monitors outside the airlock showing hapless technicians beating futilely at the inner airlock doors.Poor Bastards, thought the troll as the screens showed the technicians being hosed down with industrial solvents.
Carlito’s nanospies’ showed other workers inside the medical building running to the door – but the entrance was already sealed. The salarymen beat helplessly against the door to no avail. “We are going to have to find another way out – they locked down the entire building,” explained the scientist.
“Drek it All!,” Keith exclaimed, “What are we going to do?”
“I’ve got an idea,” replied the scientist. Carlito led the group to a corner conference room he had noticed during their earlier tour. The conference room seemed to be vulnerable to breakouts due to the large floor to ceiling windows lining the exterior facing walls; however, Carlito knew that material science had come a long way – while the glass might seem easy to break, the windows were as hard as the concrete and steel comprising the rest of the building.
Nevertheless, Carlito had a plan; he took another aerosol spray from his case and quickly sprayed the surface of the Plexiglas. While the Destructor nanites ate through the material at the molecular level, it appeared to the team that the window simply dissolved in the air in front of them. Shortly, a one-meter hole had appeared in the window leading to the team’s freedom.
The team wasted no time leaping through the aperture and racing towards the front of the admin building. As the team ran, Alexander yelled, “We’ve got to get to the datacenter and smash those records!”
Unfortunately for the team, the SecSpecs had other ideas. The Captain and his two sidekicks were running towards the team from the main gate across the complex. Yet the team was lucky that the guards’ submachineguns were not accurate over the long distance. Therefore, the team and the guards ran towards each other with opposite goals in mind. Keith had had enough and chose this moment to split off from the team. The callow human was already thinking about what he was going to tell his superiors regarding the heist.
About thirty meters out from the team, the guards stopped and ordered the team to stop, but no one listened. Slone raced further ahead than his allies due to his gangly troll legs. As the SecSpecs opened fire at the troll, a few bullets found their mark, but the troll’s armor jacket, dermal plating, titanium bone lacing and platelet factory absorbed most of the impact. Still, Slone felt a slight bruise welling on his breastbone and it angered him.
“Who brings a popgun to a Fraggin’ firefight?” groused the angry troll as he drew his monofilament whip from its hidden holster. Slone kicked on his synaptic accelerator and the scene took on the slow motion quality that turned the ordinarily tough troll into a hyperkinetic cyborg killer. Lashing out at the Captain, the troll found his mark with the monofilament whip and the orc’s gun hand was instantly severed at the wrist – blood gushed into the faces of the orc’s allies.
Meanwhile Alexander pulled down the mojo magic and launched a Stun Bolt at the dwarf on the right. The dwarf had some willpower, so the blast only staggered him. I need to invest in some better offensive spells, thought the elf. Of course, Alexander’s spell selection featured low Mana Drain – pulling down the mojo had its price after all. Besides, constantly experiencing massive migraines would hamper the elf’s style.
Carlito chose his final aerosol canister and sprayed the face of the dwarf on the left – it contained a dose of hard nanites specifically designed to foul up commlinks and smart displays. The nano-scale machines were programmed to seek out commlinks and inject false signals into the commlink’s wireless data stream. The end result was that the dwarf’s smartglass display suddenly exploded with Bad AROs momentarily blinding and disorienting him.
Not feeling particularly magnanimous, Slone cut down the orc whom crouched helplessly at the troll’s feet cradling the stump of his severed limb. Slone hacked at the Captain’s skull and cleft the orc’s head in twain.
Moving faster than mere human limits, Slone swung a savage backhand strike towards the dwarf on the left whom was still dazed by Carlito’s interference. Slone’s wicked barb split the dwarf from crown to codpiece. The poor sod’s organs spilled out onto pavement. Too bad we won’t be able to sell those to an organlegger, thought the troll.
Alexander dodged the poorly aimed shots from the remaining dwarf – it’s hard to shoot when you are suffering from the effects of a massive concussion. The elf struck the dwarf with another Stun Bolt and laid the SecSpec low.
Seizing the opportunity, Carlito jumped on the bodies and looted their commlinks, smartglasses and weapons. “These will help us get into the datacenter, let’s go!” yelled the human as his passed out the goodies to his teammates.
From the warehouse exit the trio had used a few minutes earlier, a human guard came running towards them. The team ran for the corner of the admin just 10 meters ahead of them. As the party turned the corner, Slone crouched behind the wall and waited for the guard to run closer into the weapon’s effective range.
Carlito moved to the front entrance to the admin building, but the door was sealed due to the alarm. The scientist used the access code from the Captain’s commlink to wirelessly subscribe to the door’s datanode and used the security override to force the door open.
Alexander waited impatiently behind Carlito while he scientist attempted to hack to door. Looking over his shoulder, the elf saw a sight that filled him with dread – 4 GM-Nissan Doberman security drones were scuttling towards them from the security center. Each drone carried a Kalashnikov assault rifle mounted on a 360 degree turret on its back. The elf did not have any spells which could affect the metallic drones. Alexander yelled at Slone, “We’ve got company!”
The troll cursed under his breath and fell back to his companions. As the troll retreated to the doorway, he caught a glimpse of the security drones. Dammit, those drones have too much armor for these submachineguns, I need a real weapon, thought the troll.
Just then, Carlito finished hacking into the door and the team burst through the entryway. As the troll covered the doorway for the team, Slone saw a second human security guard approaching from the stockyard. Once the team was through, the troll closed and locked the doorway and then shot the electronic panel hoping to buy the team some time. “We’ve got major problems,” yelled the troll.
No Kidding, thought the elf as he wryly observed the scared salarymen jump up from their cubicles as the troll opened fire at the door. The elf told Carlito, “We’ll hold them off here, you go crash the datacenter!”
Carlito wasted no time dashing up the stairs to the second floor. The scientist saw the secured door leading to the datacenter. Racing over to the access console, the scientist deftly removed the outer casing from the device and began hotwiring the maglock.
While Carlito finished cracking the doorway and raced into the datacenter, the team downstairs watched as the security guards and drones started breaking down the exterior security door. The troll and the elf hid behind the thin beige wall of the first line of cubicles near the doorway. Crouching behind the partitions on opposite sides of the central walkway, Slone looked at Alexander and they shared a silent moment of desperation. When the first drone burst through the door, its auto-pilot program paused for a moment to assess the situation.
Slone looked at Alexander and said, “Frag it if they can’t take a joke!”
The troll leaped out at the drone and quickly closed the distance before it could react. Slone let loose a massive overhand swing at the drone scuttling in front of him. Sparks flew as the monofilament whip cut through the hardened outer shell of the drone and exposed its electronic guts.
Alexander noticed one of the guards poked his head around the broken-down door hoping to take aim at the troll. The elf Stun-Bolted the guard and was rewarded as the human crumbled to the ground with blood oozing out of his ears and nose.
Meanwhile, Carlito was rewiring the datacenter like his life depended on it.
It did.
When Carlito had first entered the temperature-controlled datacenter, he had had no idea how to even find to correct server to disable amongst rows of identical black server closets. However, Carlito had noticed an uninterruptible power supply (UPS) humming along nearby and a crazy idea sprung to life. If Carlito could bypass the UPS and route the building’s power directly to the server room’s electrical infrastructure, he might be able to fry all the servers at once. Yet Carlito knew that he would need a monster power surge for that to happen – but what if he disabled the safety features of the UPS and used the stored up charge as a giant capacitor to initiate a massive discharge? And that is when his encephalon kicked into gear. The cyberware implant was made for such logic problems. It appeared to Carlito that the servers disappeared and only electrical conduits lined the false floor and walls of the datacenter. The encephalon helped his mind complete the circuit diagrams almost instantaneously. The wires and circuit modifications fell into place in his mind as fast as Carlito’s hands could move.
Unfortunately for the scientist, he knew exactly how long it would take to re-wire the room – five minutes minimum for an expert electrician.
Downstairs, the fight was not going well for the team. The first drone, badly damaged by Slone’s first slash, opened fire point-blank at the troll with its Kalashnikov. Unlike the small caliber rounds of the submachinegun, the assault rifle badly injured the troll. Slone’s Kevlar and ceramic lined-jacket prevented the rounds from piecing his flesh, but jacket and all his cyberware could not mute the raw kinetic force of the rounds. Each burst from the drone created subdermal bruising and staggered the troll to his knees.
Gritting his teeth, the wounded troll lunged at the drone, aiming for the slash in the drone’s armor created by the first swipe. The hit connected and Slone roared with triumph as the whip made havoc with the fragile electronic systems secured behind the hard shell of the drone’s exterior. The drone fell crashing to the floor.
Unfortunately for the troll, three more drones awaited him and the second drone wasted no time scuttling through the doorway to engage Slone. The troll hacked at the second drone and brought it down in one massive swipe.
Alexander could do nothing to aid the troll – his spells did not affect inanimate objects. Moreover, the last guard chose to let the drones dispatch the angry troll and so he remained hidden outside. Fragging coward, thought the elf as he cast Improved Invisibility on himself and hid in the cubicles.
Carlito had already shut down the power to the datacenter and he was busy re-routing the main powerline to bypass the UPS. Not enough time! Carlito panicked to himself.
Downstairs, the remaining two drones laid down the rain on Slone. The troll buckled under the combined assault of the two remaining drones. The two drones fired burst after burst at the troll and Slone was forced to fall back to the cover of the cubicles; where he noticed the elf was gone. “Frag it all to Hell, you dandelion-eatin’ slitch!” yelled the gravely injured troll. Screw this, I’m not being paid enough to die, thought the troll as he fled full speed towards the door to the warehouse Keith had led them through earlier that day.
The final guard finally worked up to courage to peek around the corner and saw the troll running flat-out towards the rear door of the office. Knowing better than to open fire in the occupied office space, the guard gave chase to the troll on foot – but his human-sized legs were no match for the troll’s long stride.
Slone ran as fast as he had ever run to the rear door. The troll was half-delirious with pain – his long body was covered in impact bruises and Slone knew that tomorrow he would feel worse. If I make through today, reasoned the troll.
The drones followed the troll but held their fire since their programming precluded the drones from endangering friendly civilians.
Alexander watched silently from the safety of his invisibility spell as the drones and the guard ran past him. Once the SecSpec ran past, the elf stood up and walked out the front of the building. Forget it, I’m not being paid to die like some criminal, thought the elf as he walked away from his companion’s plight.
Carlito blithely carried on with his hack, not knowing his teammates had abandoned him. The scientist had successful re-routed the power to circumvent the UPS and was now manually disabling the safety circuits in the UPS which prevented a massive discharge of current. Carlito’s encephalon laid out circuit after circuit in a seemingly endless parade of diagrams. How much time do I have left? the scientist thought briefly.
Slone burst through the rear door and rushed into the warehouse. The troll’s plan was to hide amongst the tall warehouse racks and pallets and make his way towards the rear of the building to the railcar exit opening.
Alexander nonchalantly walked towards the front gate safe in his invisible cocoon.
The drone and the guard cautiously followed Slone into the warehouse. Fortunately for the troll, the racking and the pallets provided all the cover he needed to lose his pursuit. Slone booked it to the railway entrance cutting a diagonally path through the warehouse – first running up one aisle of racking and then cutting across to the next through breaks in the racking of each row.
Carlito was so close to being done – the geek had successful circumvented the safety measures on the power supply and only had a few circuits left to turn the UPS into a giant discharge capacitor. Where are the rest of the guys? wondered the scientist as his hands worked feverishly.
The guard made it to the central area of the warehouse but could not see where the troll had went, the drones’ sensors also lost the troll. Wait a minute, thought the guard, the Captain had given them RFID tags – I can use the warehouse RFID tag readers to locate him!
Slone ran out the railway access door at the rear of the warehouse and encountered a problem – the railway access had a gate – an electrified gate. Oh frag it! thought the battered troll as he glanced behind him for the pursuit drones.
Meanwhile, Alexander made it to the front gate the trio had entered at the beginning. Seeing the side entrance was locked, Alexander used one of the stolen commlinks to access the door’s data node. With the guard’s access code and permissions, it was simple to open the gate. All too easy, thought the elf as he made his escape.
Carlito madly completed the final circuit. Racing to the fuse box, Carlito whispered a short prayer,Please Merciful Father, Let this work!
The scientist pulled the switch.
Sparks flew from the servers like fireworks! Carlito looked in wonder as, one after another, the servers exploded and sparks flew from their fried circuits. In fact, the explosions seemed to follow the same timing as the cannon fire from Tchaikovsky’s famous 1812 Overture. Carlito looked down at his watch – the impossible hack only took him 30 seconds from start to finish.
The guard cackled triumphantly as he brought up the RFID locator program on an ARO from his commlink. Just as the program finished its sweep of all the RFID security badges in the complex, the link to the datacenter went dead. Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the complex as the transformers in the power substation all short-circuited. The halogen lights in the warehouse exploded throwing sparks everywhere.
Slone flinched back as charges flared from the electrified fence and then died out. Taking it as his cue, Slone took his trusty monofilament whip and cut a hole in the chain links so he could escape. The troll ran deep into the alleyway across the street and hid amongst the area’s tenements. After he had found a safe spot, Slone sent Alexander a nasty-gram via his commlink, You and I are going to have some serious words about this, Nancy-Boy!1!1!!
Alexander, however, was long gone. The elf barely looked back as the transformers exploded behind him. Just act cool, McQueen. Act cool, the elf keep telling himself as he walked away.
Carlito’s pure joy at his amazing hack was short lived at the lights went out and the emergency lighting kicked in. Time to go! thought the jubilant scientist. Carlito ran back outside the datacenter and joined the throng of people running down the stairs to get outside. The corporate wage-slaves normally ignored fire-drills, but when automatic weapons were fired and the power went out, it lent much more motivation in compliance from the average worker-bee. Once in the parking lot with the rest of the workers, the scientist simply walked to the front gate. As Carlito stepped through the gate to freedom, he glanced back at the growing throng of people in the parking lot and saw the last confused security guard standing around looking for the intruders.
Shortly after Carlito left the compound, the parking lot guard was joined by the guard whom had followed Slone into the warehouse. Running up to his partner, the warehouse guard asked the parking lot guard, “Where’d he go?”
“Where’d who go?”
The ice age is coming, the sun is zooming in
Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear error, but I have no fear
London is drowning-and I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 5th January 2009 at 05:08 AM..
Setting: A tri-vid cast of the popular Horizon Hardcopy news program. The anchorwoman stands floating in 3D space as the news events, videos, and customized news graphics swirl around her. The woman’s red and white nanotech hair implants changes color by the story. During the opening credits an Orcan voice says in a deep voice:
What’s on the Horizon? News! Sports! Infotainment! It must be time for HORIZON HARDCOPY…oohh Yeah!
Good evening Washingtonians, this is Horizon Hardcopy and I’m the Lollipop.
Tonight’s Top Story:
A massive power outage in Tacoma caused over 50,000 residents in the community to go without power for 5 hours this afternoon as Shiawase Tacoma Transmission Corporation workers struggled to restore services after a power substation exploded in what they claim was an industrial accident.
Shiawase Spokeswoman, Twila Sinclair, stated that no one was injured in the mishap.
However, in an Horizon Hardcopy exclusive, we have received footage taken from inside the compound recorded by a worker whom uploaded the following footage to our Hardcopy Hidden Camera DataHaven:
A grainy video, taken from what appears to be an image-link from a pair of smartglasses, shows an individual peering over the top of an office cubicle while several bright flashes originate near a doorway. A huge troll staggers backward and then turns and runs swiftly towards the cubicle. The view shifts as the worker turns and hides under her desk. Then a clash jars the perspective and the glasses fall to the ground outside the cubicle. Landing upside down the image-link shows the back of the troll as he runs swiftly down the walkway towards the rear door. Shortly, a pair of drones follows the retreating troll. Then, the image-link cuts out.
Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!
In other news,
Investigators are examining the wreckage of last night’s Lake Washington ferry fire. The Coast Guard believes the fire was caused when a local gang attempted to hijack the boat and take the passengers hostage.
However, some authorities suspect involvement by the International Longshoreman’s Union. Officials believe the strike was motivated by malcontented fringe-elements of the union whom were seeking to intimidate the ferry workers who crossed the picket line to keep the ferry running.
The dockworker’s strike is in its 7 day as food is becoming increasingly scarce in the Metroplex. Governor Peter Posniak had the following comments:
A video clip shows a rotund, yet well-appointed, middle-aged human speaking in a gruff voice
“We will not stand by and allow fringe-elements to intimidate the Metroplex. I have authorized a full alert of the Metroplex Guard in the event the dockworker strike continues to escalate.”
Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!
Political news
Proposition 1812 is on the ballot next month. The proposition would create a new free trade zone in Seattle and allow goods to flow into the Metroplex under the aegis of megacorporations’ extraterritoriality protection.
Johnny Johns, Chairman of the United Corporate Council had this to say:
A video clip shows a politician with great looking white hair and a power-suit speaking to a reporter
“The free trade zone will supercharge the economy in Seattle. By allowing overseas markets entry into the Metroplex without suffering UCAS import tariffs, we will be able to keep prices lower on important commodities such as food and other essential products for the citizens of this great city”
Opponents, such as the dockworkers and their terrorist allies, feel that Proposition 1812 will impugn on their starting wages of 80 thousand nuyen per year and reduce their right to organize in secretive closed ballot proceedings.
Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!
Last edited by Zen_Pollo; 11th January 2009 at 06:39 PM..
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