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ALL THE BRICKS - Prologue: What Rough Beast
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<blockquote data-quote="TillForPie" data-source="post: 6863702" data-attributes="member: 6762758"><p style="text-align: center"><strong><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><span style="color: #800080"><span style="font-size: 22px">Prologue: What Rough Beast</span></span></span></strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>[title]The Pensodyne Run[/title]</p><p>Fixers like Big Mac Sexy are a necessary evil for splat jobs like you. Most M&Ms (middle men) aren't willing to throw anything but milk runs and garbage detail at no-rep-having monkeys. So where does a gutterpunk get his start? With a crooked M&M. You don't get to meet Mr. Johnson and you don't know how much flash is really on the table. All you know is the number Mac spits at you and he gets to keep the difference. Half the time Mac doesn't even give you all the details: He doesn't want you to know what a glitchfest you signed up for. You pull one Mickey Mouse job after another hoping that someday he'll toss you something worthwhile. Well - your time has come, chombatta.</p><p></p><p>Mac's got a run lined up against a big time AAA megacorporation. Well, maybe you're not actually hitting a Big Ten megacorp. You're hitting a Big Ten's <em>subsidiary</em>. Isn't that close enough? A genetech firm called Pensodyne is the target and if you follow its data trail all the way up the ladder you'll eventually find Evo Corporation - the seventh largest corp in the world. <em>Welcome to the deep end.</em> Malka Woodley is a keeb (elf) egghead working for Pensodyne in Newark doing God-knows-what. The break room soykaf must taste like crap because she wants to jump ship after seven years of employment. Unfortunately Pensodyne isn't ready to give Woodley her walking papers - so it's gonna be a bag job. You're infiltrating, grabbing Woodley, and snatching an assload of swag (she's letting you into the vault as her extraction fee for whomever hired Mac). Each runner can expect 5,000 nuyen once the job is complete.</p><p></p><p>Sleep tight, chummer! You've got a big day tomorrow.</p><p></p><p>[section]<strong><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="color: #800080">Ancient History: Evo Corporation</span></span></span></strong></p><p>Once upon a time the Japanese-built and Russian-based Evo Corporation was the irrefutable king of the court of public opinion. They're easily the most progressive and transhumanist of the Big Ten and no other megacorporation has championed the cause of metahumanity like Evo. The sad news is that public opinion is fickle. A string of recent controversies has put the megacorp on the ropes and Evo's star is falling.</p><p></p><p>At the center of Evo's troubles is CFD. Cognitive Fragmentation Disorder, or CFD, is what happens when nanoware consumes its host and replaces the poor bastard's personality with an AI. There are tens of thousands of these headcases out there. As the largest producer of nanoware in the world, Evo is facing the brunt of the public relations fallout. Evo's biggest rival - the Boston-based megacorporation NeoNET - isn't faring much better.[/section]</p><p>[title]Ten Minutes Ago[/title]</p><p>The team consists of Clydesdale, Death Otter, Faust, Herald, Lum the Mad, Lunchmeat, and Y2K.1. It's an oversized team for sure but it's what's needed for the biggest bust-up New York has seen all year. You're rolling in hot on Pensodyne's Newark facility and you're smashing down the door, you're grabbing all the swag, you're digging the RFID tracking tag out of Woodley's arm, and you're booking it. It's all shocked ork and elf faces, hands in the air, "Please don't hurt me!" Some of you wanted a whisper but thanks to Clydesdale, Lunchmeat, and Y2K.1 you got a roar. </p><p></p><p>Clydesdale is the troll with the transparent body armor and nothing but a thong underneath. He's firing his shotgun at the ceiling.</p><p></p><p>Lunchmeat is a shaved head and a leather jacket and she's driving a wageslave into the vault at the end of a machine pistol. </p><p></p><p>Y2K.1 is the Jamaican cyber-mage with the metal hands and she keeps spraying blue flames from her mouth. The office is on fire.</p><p></p><p>[title]Three Minutes Ago[/title]</p><p>That rat bastard Lunchmeat is standing over Y2K.1's body with her gun in your face. Her buddies are gripping their weapons real tight while they snatch the swag from the ground at your feet - duffel bags full of paydata and prototypes. </p><p></p><p>Lunchmeat betrayed you. She had six friends waiting for you to leave the facility. They've killed Y2K.1 and now they're going to kill you. Then they're going to take Woodley - but they're not taking her back to Big Mac Sexy - they say they have other plans for her.</p><p></p><p>"Lotta metas?" says the fat one in the pig mask. He's got a grenade launcher. It's the ArmTech MGL-12. Damn, it's sweet.</p><p></p><p>"Nothing but. No more than a dozen humans." That's Lunchmeat talking. "I thought we were the racists."</p><p></p><p>"They'll all be chunky salsa in about ten minutes." It's the real small one. He's wearing a balaclava and he's aiming his AK at you.</p><p></p><p>The one with the black face paint and the cyberarms is all smiles. "Big box of Chinese take-out." She's holding a katana. Katanas are so wapanese-of-the-'90s but you don't want to tell her that while she's pointing hers at your throat.</p><p></p><p>That's when the corporate HTR (High Threat Response) team shows up and hell breaks loose. A grenade detonates. There's tear gas everywhere. A pillar's torn apart by machine gun fire. </p><p></p><p>Next you're battling your way out the front door and onto the street with the others. Clydesdale's been shot to hell and he can't keep up with you. He's using his shotgun to support himself as he stumbles toward the door. He's asking for your help. A bullet spills his gray matter onto the lobby linoleum. Good night, sweet prince. You follow your team down the street-side steps to the subway terminal.</p><p></p><p>[section]<strong><span style="font-family: 'verdana'"><span style="font-size: 15px"><span style="color: #800080">Hear-O-Vision: Lazerhawk - Overdrive</span></span></span></strong></p><p>Insert your ALL THE BRICKS compact cassette on Side A and play Track 01: Lazerhawk - Overdrive [sup]<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG_0VX2IrNc" target="_blank">link</a>[/sup][/section]</p><p>[title]Now[/title]</p><p>The train <strong><em>WHIIIRS</em></strong> loud as thunder. It's gaining speed. A terminal packed with commuters flashes by the windows.</p><p></p><p>Thank God one of you managed to grab Woodley - with all the swag gone she's your last shot at a paycheck. You're all in the third car (that's third from the front) of a six car train. Lunchmeat and three of her crew managed to break away from the firefight and follow you down here. Lunchmeat, pig mask, balaclava, and cyberarms are in the sixth car (that's the last car). The unfortunate commuters in cars four and five are stuck between a rock and a hard place. The wageslaves from cars three and two are piled up against the locked door of the lead car. "Let us in!" There's no escape for anyone on the train.</p><p></p><p>Death Otter managed to worm her brain into the train's host and lock the NYS Transit goons into the front car and shut down their terminal. She has the train skipping stops as it speeds away from Pensodyne and the HTR team. She's in control for now but at any moment the system will realize something's wrong and start spawning IC. In minutes or seconds a Transit spider will be joining her and that's when it gets ugly.</p><p></p><p>Plastic windows shatter and wageslaves scream when bullets come in from the back of the train. "Hand over the sharp and nobody else has to die!" Sharp is slang for elf. They want Woodley.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="TillForPie, post: 6863702, member: 6762758"] [CENTER][B][FONT=verdana][COLOR="#800080"][SIZE=6]Prologue: What Rough Beast[/SIZE][/COLOR][/FONT][/B][/center][B][FONT=verdana][COLOR="#800080"][/color][/font][/b] [title]The Pensodyne Run[/title] Fixers like Big Mac Sexy are a necessary evil for splat jobs like you. Most M&Ms (middle men) aren't willing to throw anything but milk runs and garbage detail at no-rep-having monkeys. So where does a gutterpunk get his start? With a crooked M&M. You don't get to meet Mr. Johnson and you don't know how much flash is really on the table. All you know is the number Mac spits at you and he gets to keep the difference. Half the time Mac doesn't even give you all the details: He doesn't want you to know what a glitchfest you signed up for. You pull one Mickey Mouse job after another hoping that someday he'll toss you something worthwhile. Well - your time has come, chombatta. Mac's got a run lined up against a big time AAA megacorporation. Well, maybe you're not actually hitting a Big Ten megacorp. You're hitting a Big Ten's [i]subsidiary[/i]. Isn't that close enough? A genetech firm called Pensodyne is the target and if you follow its data trail all the way up the ladder you'll eventually find Evo Corporation - the seventh largest corp in the world. [I]Welcome to the deep end.[/I] Malka Woodley is a keeb (elf) egghead working for Pensodyne in Newark doing God-knows-what. The break room soykaf must taste like crap because she wants to jump ship after seven years of employment. Unfortunately Pensodyne isn't ready to give Woodley her walking papers - so it's gonna be a bag job. You're infiltrating, grabbing Woodley, and snatching an assload of swag (she's letting you into the vault as her extraction fee for whomever hired Mac). Each runner can expect 5,000 nuyen once the job is complete. Sleep tight, chummer! You've got a big day tomorrow. [section][b][font=verdana][size=4][color="#800080"]Ancient History: Evo Corporation[/color][/size][/font][/b] Once upon a time the Japanese-built and Russian-based Evo Corporation was the irrefutable king of the court of public opinion. They're easily the most progressive and transhumanist of the Big Ten and no other megacorporation has championed the cause of metahumanity like Evo. The sad news is that public opinion is fickle. A string of recent controversies has put the megacorp on the ropes and Evo's star is falling. At the center of Evo's troubles is CFD. Cognitive Fragmentation Disorder, or CFD, is what happens when nanoware consumes its host and replaces the poor bastard's personality with an AI. There are tens of thousands of these headcases out there. As the largest producer of nanoware in the world, Evo is facing the brunt of the public relations fallout. Evo's biggest rival - the Boston-based megacorporation NeoNET - isn't faring much better.[/section] [title]Ten Minutes Ago[/title] The team consists of Clydesdale, Death Otter, Faust, Herald, Lum the Mad, Lunchmeat, and Y2K.1. It's an oversized team for sure but it's what's needed for the biggest bust-up New York has seen all year. You're rolling in hot on Pensodyne's Newark facility and you're smashing down the door, you're grabbing all the swag, you're digging the RFID tracking tag out of Woodley's arm, and you're booking it. It's all shocked ork and elf faces, hands in the air, "Please don't hurt me!" Some of you wanted a whisper but thanks to Clydesdale, Lunchmeat, and Y2K.1 you got a roar. Clydesdale is the troll with the transparent body armor and nothing but a thong underneath. He's firing his shotgun at the ceiling. Lunchmeat is a shaved head and a leather jacket and she's driving a wageslave into the vault at the end of a machine pistol. Y2K.1 is the Jamaican cyber-mage with the metal hands and she keeps spraying blue flames from her mouth. The office is on fire. [title]Three Minutes Ago[/title] That rat bastard Lunchmeat is standing over Y2K.1's body with her gun in your face. Her buddies are gripping their weapons real tight while they snatch the swag from the ground at your feet - duffel bags full of paydata and prototypes. Lunchmeat betrayed you. She had six friends waiting for you to leave the facility. They've killed Y2K.1 and now they're going to kill you. Then they're going to take Woodley - but they're not taking her back to Big Mac Sexy - they say they have other plans for her. "Lotta metas?" says the fat one in the pig mask. He's got a grenade launcher. It's the ArmTech MGL-12. Damn, it's sweet. "Nothing but. No more than a dozen humans." That's Lunchmeat talking. "I thought we were the racists." "They'll all be chunky salsa in about ten minutes." It's the real small one. He's wearing a balaclava and he's aiming his AK at you. The one with the black face paint and the cyberarms is all smiles. "Big box of Chinese take-out." She's holding a katana. Katanas are so wapanese-of-the-'90s but you don't want to tell her that while she's pointing hers at your throat. That's when the corporate HTR (High Threat Response) team shows up and hell breaks loose. A grenade detonates. There's tear gas everywhere. A pillar's torn apart by machine gun fire. Next you're battling your way out the front door and onto the street with the others. Clydesdale's been shot to hell and he can't keep up with you. He's using his shotgun to support himself as he stumbles toward the door. He's asking for your help. A bullet spills his gray matter onto the lobby linoleum. Good night, sweet prince. You follow your team down the street-side steps to the subway terminal. [section][b][font=verdana][size=4][color="#800080"]Hear-O-Vision: Lazerhawk - Overdrive[/color][/size][/font][/b] Insert your ALL THE BRICKS compact cassette on Side A and play Track 01: Lazerhawk - Overdrive [sup][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SG_0VX2IrNc]link[/url][/sup][/section] [title]Now[/title] The train [B][I]WHIIIRS[/I][/B] loud as thunder. It's gaining speed. A terminal packed with commuters flashes by the windows. Thank God one of you managed to grab Woodley - with all the swag gone she's your last shot at a paycheck. You're all in the third car (that's third from the front) of a six car train. Lunchmeat and three of her crew managed to break away from the firefight and follow you down here. Lunchmeat, pig mask, balaclava, and cyberarms are in the sixth car (that's the last car). The unfortunate commuters in cars four and five are stuck between a rock and a hard place. The wageslaves from cars three and two are piled up against the locked door of the lead car. "Let us in!" There's no escape for anyone on the train. Death Otter managed to worm her brain into the train's host and lock the NYS Transit goons into the front car and shut down their terminal. She has the train skipping stops as it speeds away from Pensodyne and the HTR team. She's in control for now but at any moment the system will realize something's wrong and start spawning IC. In minutes or seconds a Transit spider will be joining her and that's when it gets ugly. Plastic windows shatter and wageslaves scream when bullets come in from the back of the train. "Hand over the sharp and nobody else has to die!" Sharp is slang for elf. They want Woodley. [/QUOTE]
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