October 9th, 2062.
It's starting to get cold on the streets of Berlin, and that's not even counting just how terrible the heating is in your building. It's gonna be a cold one this year. At least it hasn't started snowing.
It's another crappy night in the Verschissenstadt. The place lives up to its name. Peering out the window, you watch as someone gets mugged. Hard to tell if it was a ganger or a burnout. Whoever it was, they were probably dead now. Bleeding out on the street, the thief running off with a probably-empty credstick in hand.
Even if it weren't for the Flux-State, no cops would ever come to this part of town. The worst part of it was the dearth of jobs. Most runners in Berlin chose slightly more accommodating kiez. Not you guys. The building you've holed up in is cheap, out of the way, and has a hard-ass old ork running the show. As far as you can tell, Old Grell downstairs was a tough mother back in his prime. Probably one of the toughest in the kiez. Also probably the only reason the drug dealers stayed off his corner of the block. Whatever the reason, this little slice of hell was yours. Yours and your crew.
Aiyan, Billy, and Friedrich.
How you three ever met each other was a mystery. But somehow, after a small incident involving a group of Knight-Errant enforcers and a P-O'd flaming spirit. But that was then. This was now. And now had lots of bills that needed paying. You're just about to go waste away some time on the Matrix looking for a job when a message pops up on your - and your crew's - mail.
A job.
Greetings,
I must confess a lack of knowledge on how such affairs as these are conducted. I have secured this connection, so I will make this quick. I have a job. It needs doing tonight. The life of my daughter is at stake. I can offer you each 500 nuyen for a simple job, a milk run, as they say. A bonus can be negotiated upon completion.
Do not reply, this connection will be dismantled after sending this. Meet me at Cafe Schwarzoy. Immediately.
-Herr Schidt.
Well. It's a job offer, at least. Better than you'd expected from the Verschissenstadt.
Friedrich Vanderhelm had been just coming down from another BTL induced fantasy where he just slain a mighty foe who sullied King Arthur's name.
"Blasted youth thinks he sully the reputation of a Knight and that of the Lord Commander, Arthur! Bah!" said Friedrich, or Ser Lamorak as he came to be known around the Verschissenstadt.
Removing his handcrafted gothic helmet revealed an addled elf bearing a pool of long dark hair bound by several knots. He wiped sweat from his brow, and removed the now defunct BTL chip and simply tossed it to the side where Old Grell had started a pile of rubbish. .
"Cold. So very cold" he said while coming to terms with the Real world.
The hulking knight motioned towards a nearby window and peered into the night.
Another night in the Verschissenstadt...
A beeping from his comlink snapped Friedrich from another trance.
"A job? And a damsel in distress? Sounds like a job for Ser Lamorak he said while making his way to join his comrades.
Aiyan woke suddenly, his hand automatically wrapping around the handle of the knife he slept with. He was instantly alert, senses clicking into place as he scanned the room for some unseen threat ghosting out of the dream he had been in. Understand, street kids, even former street kids, do not wake slowly. A moment's fuzziness blearily blinking awake could be the few seconds that you needed to get away. It was hard wired in his psyche to be on the alert, always.
"Frag," he groused to himself, wincing as he let the knife slip back into it's sheath and pushed himself upwards from... well, it could kinda be called a bed, if you squinted hard enough and really, really believed. A few pallets with some torn up cushions and an old grey blanket.
Sitting on the edge of the bed-pallet-thing, he ran a hand through his messy black hair, which was always slightly too long and had a tendency to stick up at odd angles no matter what he did with it, before pushing himself upwards. He was lean, a little over five feet eight with wide, muscled shoulders and a narrow waist. He was toned, muscles standing out in hard relief against his almost sickly pale white skin, there was, he guessed, not a single ounce of extra. Skin, bone, muscle and blood. After a moment standing by the bed, he turned and wandered towards the table, where his comlink was beeping.
~Still better than the street.~ Aiyan grinned to himself as he wandered through his shoe box size "apartment." He owned the place, but he hadn't seen the point in doing much with it. Bare wooden floors and faded, stained wallpaper surrounded him. His furniture consisted of an drek awful pallet bed, one chair, a rickety old table, a noisy little fridge and a small thermal cooker, the only new-ish thing in the place.
He dropped into the chair and reached for the comlink he had dropped on the desk, frowning as he plugged in and answered the incessant beeping that had raised him from his rest.
Work was work, even if it was was 500 measly nuyen. Aiyan grinned to himself as he punctuated the message with a resounding fart that reverberated from the hard wooden surface of the chair around the room.
He stood, wincing at the smell and unable to contain another amused grin. ~Farts are funny,~ he idly mused to himself as he shrugged on his armor and strapped on the pouches holding his equipment. The last was the sword.
It's name was Shinigami, the taker of souls, the god of death. It was a demon, thirsty for blood and vicious. He ran his hand down it's scabbard, shivering slightly at the touch and an imagined voice whispered in the back of his mind... "Time to feed."
Cafe Schwarzoy was one of those few businesses in the Verschissenstadt that was agreed to be neutral ground. Everyone needed their bargain soykafs, it seemed. But it didn't mean that the Cafe was any better than the rest of the kiez. It had an air of society inside that just didn't fit the place. Like a megacorp just up and dumped it in the middle of the neighborhood, knowing that even in the middle of a gang war with BTLs and Jazz flying both ways, they'd still make a profit.
Which was their whole game, really. But it was still fraggin' annoying.
About an hour after receiving the message, Friedrich and Aiyan arrive almost simultaneously outside of the Cafe. Billy is nowhere to be seen. Probably still sleeping off another all-night, all-day, half-the-next-night bout with a questionable woman. Cafe Schwarzoy looks about as busy as you'd expect at this time of night. Three, maybe four people inside. Including the two staff members, who look none too happy with their ridiculous barista getups. The neon signs on the front of the place broke through the gloom of the cold night, but provided little comfort.
Probably because of the dismantled vehicle left rotting on the curb. Or the bullet impacted halfway through the ballistic glass. It had managed to not only hold together, hardly even cracking. A testament to corporate will. If only they'd spend some of money doing some good instead of lining their pockets.
Through the window, you can see a man who looks clearly out of place at the furthest table. Had practically no cover, trapped you in the corner, and left you exposed to any and all observers. Any sensible person in the Verschissenstadt knew that seat was suicide.
This was probably your Herr Schmidt.
An amateur.
A cloud of vapor emerged from Friedrich's gothic helmet as he stood outside Cafe Schwarzoy with his partner, Aiyan. The pair seemed odd for a shadowrunner group. Two martials with obsessions with blades and armor. Then again, it was 2062, and nothing was normal. Heck, just trying to be normal meant you were going out of your way and that would cost a sizable fortune.
Friedrich exposed his head to the cold, ran an armored hand through his locks.
” Hm...the last time I felt this sensation was during the retrieval of Sir Tristan's beloved shield. How a lowly wretch had fooled our dear knight for a hen pecked youth, and attempted to make copper. But lo! That cut purse had only incurred the wrath of a knight and learned his lesson! Rightfully so!” he said while pounding his chest with a hearty laughter.
To Friedrich, the boundaries between reality and fantasy lied with the spike and trough of a BTL chip. Having come down from a previous trip, the elven warrior was still adjusting to reality.
Turning his head to the side, he noticed a particular fellow standing out from the crowd, a man who dared to sit in a spot that clamored for attention.
Allowing his cyber eyes to glow a wistful green, he looked upon Aiyan and smiled.
” I do believe that is our task master. A hare away from his meadow. Shall we entreat our quarry and allow ourselves to be plucked?”
”Hm...the last time I felt this sensation was during the retrieval of Sir Tristan's beloved shield. How a lowly wretch had fooled our dear knight for a hen pecked youth, and attempted to make copper. But lo! That cut purse had only incurred the wrath of a knight and learned his lesson! Rightfully so!”
"Hn," Aiyan replied noncommittally, he had long ago learned to ignore the ramblings of his odd partner, the guy was useful and he had skill, but he was just a bit off the edge. BTL would do that to a guy.
He spotted the client about half a second after he arrived, sitting in the corner with no clear exits and his back to the room. The guy was an newbie, so out of his depth he couldn't even tell what was up or down. Aiyan mused that it could be a good thing, or a bad thing.
” I do believe that is our task master. A hare away from his meadow. Shall we entreat our quarry and allow ourselves to be plucked?”
Aiyan took half a second to translate Friedrich's words into something that kinda half made sense and then nodded. "We gotta get him t' move, though. No way I's sittin' there in the frakkin' corner."
He lead the way, pushing past Freidrich and shouldering his way through the double doors, he strode directly towards the targe... no, client. Client. Not target. Client.
Aiyan dropped a light hand on to the shoulder of Shhmidt, resisting the urge to grin at the jolt of surprise the man let slip, the poor bastard nearly jumped out of his skin. He gave the man a second to to recover and then fixed him with a glare. "Herr Shmidt, I guess? Ya called. Follow me."
The man looks up at the muscled fellow before him, peering through his glasses. Though clearly a novice, he did his best not to balk at the shadowrunner before him. He failed, of course. He's clearly never come face to face with a real runner.
"Follow? Um, alright-" He stands up in a hurry, clearly jittery. He bumps the table, sending his half-empty soykaf across the floor. The barista audibly sighs. "Oh, oh dear. So sorry!"
The man quickly scrambles, picking up a small attache beside him. In fact, now that he's standing, you can get a good look at him. He doesn't look much like a Verschissenstadt regular at all. His clothes are almost respectable, though a little too wrinkled to be corporate. His greying hair is neatly cut, and he doesn't have the bloodshot eyes of a burnout. A meek fellow, he's practically dwarfed by Aiyan despite a similarity of height. Grasping the case like his life depends on it - it might, actually - he follows Aiyan without another word.
Friedrich gestures to Aiyan - he's grabbed the most defensible place in the joint. Clear lines to both the front door and the back, easy leap over the counter for extra cover, and sight lines up the street both ways. The bullet-impacted ballistic glass was a little close for comfort, but at least it had already stopped one bullet. Better hope no one found anything bigger. Schmidt sits down at the table, visibly trying his hardest to play the part of a regular Johnson.
His eyes pan quickly between you two, then he does a double take to check the Cafe. Only the barista now, mop in hand and scowl on face. The other patron had second thoughts after watching you come in. Schmidt leans in closer, practically whispering.
"Yes, I'm Herr Schmidt. You are the shadowrunners, ja? Then, unless you have any questions, I should get started explaining..." He trails off, as though unsure if he was playing the role properly.
Wrapping an arm around the prospect, Friedrich made sure that their friend wasn't going to jump out of his skin.
The knight's eyes shone heavily from his helmet as he leaned forward and began the discussion.
"Still your legs! You are quaking like a fearful hare in a farmer's garden!" Friedrich's head turned slightly so that Aiyan would be able to catch his play.
"Thousest draws forth a quest of which bears a damsel in distress and great peril none the less! Please, illuminate me and my companion here!" he said with great earnest.
Schmidt stops fidgeting for a moment, simply stopping to stare at Friedrich. You can see him consider asking the question everyone does, but eventually Schmidt simply shakes his head and resumes where he left off.
"Okay - I um, er, represent Heinrich's Holistics. A small establishment, in the kiez next door. The Scharrziele. Normally they leave us to our business, but, this time." He pauses, on the verge of tears. "They took my daughter. We refused to pay, and now they took her. Irma - I don't know what they'll do to her. All I know is that the new guys, those Fratellis, they took her. All over protection money! I'd paid it before, but this month was just- She's only sixteen... I can't offer you much, but please... I've nowhere else to go. Can you- can you do it?"
"Okay - I um, er, represent Heinrich's Holistics. A small establishment, in the kiez next door. The Scharrziele. Normally they leave us to our business, but, this time." He pauses, on the verge of tears. "They took my daughter. We refused to pay, and now they took her. Irma - I don't know what they'll do to her. All I know is that the new guys, those Fratellis, they took her. All over protection money! I'd paid it before, but this month was just- She's only sixteen... I can't offer you much, but please... I've nowhere else to go. Can you- can you do it?"
Aiyan sneered, his contempt for the man clear on his face.To him, straight-laced collars and low end corp idiots were all a waste of breathable air. The guy sitting across the table looking all wide-eyed and desperate was nothing but fodder, prey wandering among hunters. "What kinda bakebrain gets his fracking daughter mixed up in biz? In this town? An' for that matter, what kinda slot puts biz before his own kids? That's fraggin' drek, maaaan." He hadn't really intended to vocalize his thoughts and blinked for a second or two at the somewhat stunned look on the client's face. Feeling every-so-slightly bad that he had insulted his new johnson, he gave the man a few seconds of a chance to reply and then plowed ahead.
"Look, man. Ya know she's prob'ly geeked already, or worse, right?" He said bluntly, leaning forward over the table and fixing the guy with a solid stare. He paused to let that fact sink in, only when he saw the panic blossom in Schmidt's eyes, he continued. "But... we'll look, an' if by some frackin' miracle she's still breathin' an' whole, we'll do what we can to bring her back. Give us the details, maaaan."
Schmidt visibly pales. "Do you... Do you really think?" he hesitates, leaving his thoughts unspoken. With a gulp and an abrupt cough to clear his throat, he continues, "Well, like I said... Its the Fratellis. They took my daughter hostage when I couldn't pay up for the protection. I know Vic's behind it, he hated me the second he walked in! He's got her, I know it! And like I said, 500 with a bonus, maybe, if she's unhurt?" he fishes in his attache case, pulling out a single unmarked credchip. "Proof. Check it."
Friedrich's grip tightens around the client.
"Stay your fear, Herr, for you have a true knight of Arthur's established order on your side!" he said while slowly rising. Fetching his sheathed Zweihänder, he saluted and knelt before the client while resting on his blade.
"On my honor as Ser Lamorak, I will do my best to save your daughter! A maiden is but a delicate flower. One that grows with such splendor and succor that many will come to admire her. However, when such a lowly knave plucks them, a great travesty has happened! The Fratellis are but common scum, and have committed a grave sin - to holdeth a maiden against their will!"
After his gracious speech, Ser Lamorak stands up, collects his sword and casually gives Aiyan a glance.
"Acquire the details from our client. I have to prepare".
And with that, Ser Lamorak strides towards the exit of the Cafe Schwarzoy, embolden with purpose.
Aiyan turned, not bothering to hide the flash of angry disgust he shot at the back of his partner. ~Frackin' dandelion-eatin' BTL junkie gonk. Who the frack is he to order me around!? Frackin' drak, maaaan!~ There was a moment where he resisted the urge to attempt murder against his partner. Freidrich was a bakebrained gonk, the guy practically lived inside a BTL endued fantasy, but he was good at what he did and he was a wizzer ace to have in combat.
After a time, he schooled his features into something he though was approaching calm neutrality, in reality it was closer to the determined look of a stone cold killer. He smiled at Herr Schmidt, the grin gave him a look that could make hardened men quake in their boots. It was all predator, full of a cold confidence and barely controlled bloodlust.
"So..." Aiyan said after a moment, "I gotta have details. Physical dimensions, ya know, height an' weight an' all that stuff, an' a description an' a recent holo, plus a DNA scan an' her SIN ID. I need everythin' ya know about these Fratelli guys, too. If we are gonna do this, we're gonna need all the know we can get 'fore we even start, maaaan.
"Right, right. I knew that." He shuffles through his case, and you can hear there are far too many papers stuffed into that case. Who used paper for things anymore? Schmidt was a strange fellow, that much was certain. Pulling out a piece, he stops, starting at it with watery eyes. Slowly, he puts it onto the Cafe's table and pushes it towards Aiyan. "There... That's my baby girl."
Calling her a baby was a bit excessive. She was clearly at least sixteen, possibly as old as eight or nineteen. Old enough to know better, but still too young to get caught up in the shadows. But if anyone knew, it was runners - the shadows didn't give two slots who you were, or what you were. When they grabbed you, they never let go.
But that was a whole other problem. Irma first. She looked of average height and build, maybe 5'6". She was a pretty girl, though her eyes gleamed with the naivety of youth. Blond hair, blues eyes, human. Trueblood German. Weren't too many left of those. She'd be easy enough to identify, if she was still in one piece.
Schmidt watches your reaction as you glance over the picture. He waits until you look satisfied, then leans in closer. With as serious a tone as he can muster, he looks you right in the eyes, inches from your face. "I can forward her SIN to your commlink, but you must swear to me that you will do this job. I cannot bear to lose her. I will hold you personally accountable for failure." For the first time since you've met him, Schmidt actually proves he has some balls.
He sighs, then leans back in his seat. Instinctively he reaches for his soykaf, then remembers he had spilled it. The barista had finished mopping, and was back to lounging across the counter, playing with a small AR-enabled tablet.
"As for the Fratellis," Schmidt continues, "they're new in the Scharrziele. Italian, I think. They're trying to make big moves in the kiez, trying to take it over. Vic is the one who came to the Heinrich's Holistics buildings. Has a couple of guys that are always with him. He talks a big game, but I could tell he was dumber than a post. If you want to get information out of him, shoving a gun in his face isn't going to do it... Though I'd have no problem with you splattering his brains across the pavement. But - Irma is my only priority."
Aiyan studied the picture of the girl and did his best to not imagine what ordeals she would likely be enduring, if she was still alive. She looked entirely too young and too innocent for the world she had been thrust into, the shadows were merciless and cold and it took cold, merciless people to live in them. Almost brutally, he forced down the twinge of sympathy he felt for the Johnson and his daughter.
"I can forward her SIN to your commlink, but you must swear to me that you will do this job. I cannot bear to lose her. I will hold you personally accountable for failure."
Aiyan's eyes raised from the picture and met the man's gaze with his own. Inside, part of him flinched at the closeness of the man, he had never been comfortable with being too close to others, but he managed to keep his face impassive. The guy's breath smelled of soykaf, his serious tone was betrayed by the fear in his eyes. Still, for the first time since they had met, Schmidt was speaking a language Aiyan could understand without parsing it through the filters of 'Not a shadowrunner' and 'Clueless old man'. He forced his mind to settle, not something that was easy to do with the constant mental garbage his brain seemed to spew out, and considered the situation for a moment. Listening as Herr Schmidt continued.
"As for the Fratellis," Schmidt continues, "they're new in the Scharrziele. Italian, I think. They're trying to make big moves in the kiez, trying to take it over. Vic is the one who came to the Heinrich's Holistics buildings. Has a couple of guys that are always with him. He talks a big game, but I could tell he was dumber than a post. If you want to get information out of him, shoving a gun in his face isn't going to do it... Though I'd have no problem with you splattering his brains across the pavement. But - Irma is my only priority."
Aiyan leaned forward, resting his hands at the edge of the table and focusing all his attention on Schmidt. He needed the man to understand the situation, and to know the risks he was taking. "There isn't no absolutes, Herr. I can't guarantee anythin', I can't make no promises of success here." He explained, shaking his head as he considered his words. "All's I can promise is, if she's alive, we'll do everythin' we can do to bring her back. An' you should know that we're not responsible for any blowback from the Fratellis against you."
He raised his hand as Schmidt opened his mouth to speak and continued. "Also understand this, maaan. I don' care 'bout your daughter, I don' care 'bout you, Herr Schmidt. I care about the run... the mission. If it's our mission t' recover this girl an' get her back to ya, then that's what I'll do, an' I'll give it everythin' I've got, but not for your sake an' not for her, 'neither. As for my partners, there's no way either of 'em would leave a girl behind." He didn't bother mentioning that his partner's reasons varied vastly. The girl's beauty would keep one partner invested and the mere fact that a girl was in danger would rile the other one up. The only thing Aiyan cared about was his reputation, and the nuyen.
"As for the Fratellis," he continued, mirroring Schmidt, "We've got our own ways of gettin' information, an we'll deal with 'em if they gets in our way, but I isn't intent on creasin' any of 'em unless we have to. Wetwork runs cost extra, maaan."
Schmidt nodded, but was clearly disappointed. Despite his practiced and businesslike appearance, you could tell he was seething with rage for this Vic. He was doing a remarkable job keeping himself together, given his circumstances.
"About that blowback. I was hoping we could arrange a way to keep myself and my family out of this. I understand you cannot prevent Fratelli retaliation forever, but even if it was as simple as keeping our names out of it, we would have time to make further arrangements. Make it look like a rival gang, or something. I could, of course, compensate you. I work at a medical facility, and I understand that your line of work is rather dangerous."
Neatly folding his hands, Schmidt settles in across the table from Aiyan. Perhaps he was getting the hang of this. The implication was left hanging, the details silence in the heavy air between the two men. If you didn't know better, you'd swear there was a hint of a smile on his face.
"About that blowback. I was hoping we could arrange a way to keep myself and my family out of this. I understand you cannot prevent Fratelli retaliation forever, but even if it was as simple as keeping our names out of it, we would have time to make further arrangements. Make it look like a rival gang, or something. I could, of course, compensate you. I work at a medical facility, and I understand that your line of work is rather dangerous."
Aiyan inclined his head in a slight nod that could have almost been a bow, but wasn't. The old guy wasn't as dumb as he seemed after all, medical contacts were hard to come by and there would be no harm in having one. He considered for a moment the possibilities available to the team in so much as covering up their purpose and making their work look sloppy enough to be a rival gang hit, without it actually being sloppy. Difficult, but not impossible.
"I can promise ya that yer names will not be brought up, and we'll do what we can to keep ya clean. I can't give ya no promise about anythin' more than that, but we'll give it a try." He said, his tone easing to a more casual nature as he began to relax a tiny bit around the old man.
Herr Schmidt nods, his eyes cast down upon the credchip he'd placed on the table before. He pushes it across the table with a single finger, leaving it in front of Aiyan. "Consider this forward investment a finalization of our deal, then. It has been a pleasure, Herr..." he pauses, realizing he'd never gotten the runners' names.
Then he quickly realizes he was never supposed to. "Well, it was a pleasure." He forwards you a comm number - his contact information. "For when the job is done. Now if you'll excuse me," he stands up, awkwardly performs a half bow of respect or fear or something, then shuffles towards the door and out into the Verschissenstadt, the cold night breeze whipping in behind him.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Ah, frek what the hell.
Beep.
Beep.
Shuffling about Billy found the device that was causing his head to feel like a jack hammer was drilling into the centre of his brain. The room was a blur and his shoulder was pressed against something, something big, something warm and surprisingly.....heaving.
Turning his head he saw that it was Greta, the owner of this..... fine establishment. Not to take it lightly mind you. For a quick tumble with this mountain of a troll Billy had a roof over his head and a walking tank of a woman that acted as a last line of defence if s@*% hit the fan. Not mind you that Billy intended to ever get that far in the s!$+ to call on her. His body gave a weak shudder to think of the payback he'd have to give if that ever came about.
He carefully shimmied out of bed and grab his strewn about clothing. As much as he liked getting his rocks on he didn't have the stomach for a morning fling, both literally and physically with Greta. It was mainly due to his cybernetics and "special talents" that he'd been able to avoid serous spinal damage and or a crushed pelvis.
Carefully he crept out of the room, leaving a note of thanks and got himself out into the open air.
Glancing at his watch he saw the message.
then he looked at the time.
then back at the message.
Then Billy began to run.
KURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWAKURWA!
Billy, perpetually late - as always - manages to make it to Cafe Schwarzoy with his pants mostly on and a shirt on his back. Just in time to see a suited, nervous looking fellow leaving.
The cafe was mostly empty, now, with the exception of a really bored looking barista and- Hey! It's Aiyan!
Looks like he scared everyone else away, though. Also as always.
Gentlemen!
Good morning, sorry for the delay I was just saving a puppy from a burning building and then had to walk a elderly person across the road, so anyway what's the job?
Lying always hit or miss with these two, old Freddy is easier to deal with but when it came to hell and high water over here it was better to get them confused and then on point asap.
Aiyan slid the photo from the table and deposited it away in an inside pocket. He turned to watch Herr Schmidt leave the place and spotted Billy, looking as disheveled as he ever did, coming in. He resisted the urge to sigh, standing instead and sliding the correct amount of nuyen under the edge of the ashtray sitting in the center of the table.
Good morning, sorry for the delay I was just saving a puppy from a burning building and then had to walk a elderly person across the road, so anyway what's the job?
Aiyan made his way towards the door. There had been a time when he would have been irritated at Billy's lateness, but it was such a normal thing that he had learned to let it slide. "Rescue run, young girl. I'll fill you in on the know when we find Friedrich, he's doin' his frackin' knight thing." Aiyan informed him almost casually, walking past him to the door, expecting the man to follow. "Puppy... that's a new one. You look like drak."
well that went surprisingly easy
Quickly sorting out his crumpled out shirt and fixing his hair a bit better Billy quickly tried keeping step with Aiyan
yeah well what can I say it was a very big coochImean pooch
So anyway what's this about a girl?
Friedrich had spent the last few minutes polishing his blade and adjusting his armor. He had to be in the best shape to rescue the damsel in distress. The knight wasn't particular in details, but knew what needed to be done.
"Another crusade. A maiden, not much different than Ser Perceval's. Though, if my fellows don't tarry, she might fare better."
Giving another tight jerk, Friedrich's armored jacket felt snug and secure around the hulking knight. After a quick blessing, he donned his helmet and went to find his comrades at the usual meeting spot.
Freddy! Your looking especially shiny this morning! Hows the war against the forces of evil in Camelot! :)
Speaking of which just how old is this bird? Its not going to be a baby sitting job is it? I feel we might be a little over muscled for toddler work!
"Come now, William. A maiden's life is in order. Who are we to question to which service a noble warrior comes for a woman's aid for only a cutpurse concerns himself with such matters. But lo, cometh a day whence you may find yourself among the knightly and anointed." said Friedrich while he placed an armored hand on Billy Chine's shoulder.
To Friedrich, though there were those who shared racial heritage with him, few truly felt like equalities. Among his peers, the motly crue of shadows he belonged to held a special place in his heart, but only in comparison to the band of fellow knights he met during his time in Berlin - the Knights of the Round. But in these times, Friedrich had little contact with the other knights and found himself working with Aiyan and Billy.
"A cold night, no hearth, a maiden's life hangs. Shall we?" he said while motioned towards his peers.
Well then I guess we had better get going, I think I've got all I need on my person patting himself down he thankfully remembered he'd grabbed his pistols and other items before leaving the apartment. It would be far too risky to head back now and grab anything else. Besides whatever he'd left would have the best bouncer this side of the s+&~ hole you could find, nothings got a better bite then a troll.
The Scharrziele wasn't far. Close enough to walk, though the streets were getting nippy. The night wasn't getting any younger, and it was going to get colder before it got any better. It didn't help that the Verschissenstadt was full of unfriendly fellows eying you.
And then quickly averting their eyes.
The kiez was one where you quickly learned which fights you could pick and which ones you could not. With two burly swordsmen and... well, Billy, this was the kind of fight they could not. After about fifteen minutes of walking, you reach the end of your little patch of hell.
Most kiez had boundary lines of some kind. Fences, walls, barricades. Sometimes even security. Sometimes it was corporate, sometimes it was gang, sometimes it was even worse. But here there was nothing. No one cared about the Verschissenstadt enough to try and keep it separate from the rest of the squalid sprawl.
But this was the place. Slightly less burnouts, slightly less thugs. The buildings were in moderately better condition, though many of them still had boarded up windows, peeling paint, malfunctioning signs, and other signs of general decay. What may have once been a nice section of Berlin was now nothing more than the home for the latest gang war.
You catch yourself almost laughing. At least gangs cared enough to fight over this patch of dirt. The Verschissenstadt couldn't even get that. Didn't matter. The chaos suited the life of a runner, even if the vomit on the sidewalk didn't.
Now all you had to do was find the girl. Or Vic Fratelli.
The knight hummed while his companions stood in silence. Missions weren't always easy, especially with the line of work that his team involved themselves in. The various scratches, dings, and bullet holes that riddled much of the knight's armor proved this point. But this was the testament of a true knight, not some armored clad youth striking a dream. To Friedrich, this was the reality that he wanted. Having spent much of his younger years as a security guard for Knight Errant seemed glorious and exciting at first, but proved to be dull and dreary when he dreams of fighting bad guys and saving people became filing mountains of data logs and babysitting monitors. He craved real adventure and excitement! What seemed to be a silly hobby of playing a fantasy game and medieval appreciation turned into longing for something more substantial. Bored of his waking life, Friedrich lost grip of reality and experimented with BTL's and his life was never the same.
Now, standing at the edge of Verschissenstadt, he was no longer Friedrich Vanderhelm, but Ser Lamorak, an Honored Knight of Arthur's Round Table, and about to embark on another crusade!
Bringing forth his comlink, he pressed several buttons and brought up what knowledge he had of the Scharrziele.
2 hits
Ser Lamorak turned to his fellows and broke the awkward silence.
"Companions! The maiden's captors have more guile than cutpurses. These...fratellis...cometh a most foul and twisted cloth." he said while slowly rousing himself to anger. "I'd be mistaken for a drunken fool if they are not within a fortress! Hah! How they will see us come and vanquish thine realm!!!"
While his comrades had been bantering back and forth, Aiyan had been formulating something approaching a plan. "We're lookin' for a sixteen year old girl bein' held by lowlife Italians. He mused aloud, "Italians are proud... we should start badmouthin' Italians, callin' 'em all kinda a rudeness, we might lure some of 'em to us, so's we can question 'em." It was clear what he meant by question was not as civil as it sounded, but he thought the plan was a good one. Although he was basing his knowledge of Italian gangsters on ancient 2d movies and tv.
Well if we want to piss off a bunch of Italians lets kill two birds with one stone, its about time for a early lunch, how does meatballs and marinara sound to you lot?
never like to start a job on a empty stomach anyway Billy mused.
The plan seemed simple enough. Find a place with some Italians in the middle of a slum in the Berlin Flux-State. There couldn't be very many of those.
But where was it hiding? You'd think something like that would stick out like a bad shadowrunner at a fancy dinner party.
"Sounds good to me if you're payin', maaaan." Aiyan quipped, half hoping that Billy was talking about actual meatballs, made with actual meat, in actual marinara sauce. He had never tasted real meat before, or real tomatoes, either. [b]"Know any Italian places 'round here?"
Friedrich groaned at the mention of Italian food.
"Nay. I shall not partake in food that has been assaulted in a sea of feral berries. A true knight understands that a proper meal consists of roasted meat, a tenderness that falls off the bone." Though, for a BTL user, one could have imagination!
Though the knight was cloaked in heavy pleather and other manufactured materials, the cold was nipping at him.
"The Scharrziele is a foreign realm to me. Our quarry should not be so open, less our targets grow with wider gaze but yonder street we may venture! Tally-ho!"
Nope
Friedrich fails to notice any Italians, any pasta, any bums, or any maidens in distress. However, both he and his companions do notice a trio of burly-looking fellows in synthleather staring back. The biggest of them, an ork with jagged teeth that make it clear he's never even dreamed of dentistry, gives a wide grin when you notice him.
He was tall for an ork, maybe 6' even with the hunched stature. Muscles layered on his muscles, and scars on his face painted a vivid picture of his past. A series of chains drape over his shoulder, connecting to metal studs sticking out of his coat. He tosses a large and rather heavy looking pipe back and forth between his hands with ease. There was a sizable bulge beneath the right side of his coat. He was packing.
His two buddies - human, but just barely, since they were almost as ugly as the ork - had the same. Though no one had drawn a weapon yet, they were clearly itching for a fight. Fingers twitched just above their coat pockets, eager to grab the piece. The bravest, or dumbest, of the trio steps forward, twirling a knife in hand. "Ya lost, chummers? Ya ain't from the Scharrziele."
Billy was hungry, and a hungry Billy is a annoyed Billy.
He decided to give the gang of f@%%wits a look over to see if he couldn't at least get some fun out of this situation.
Anything over 50% activated:
9d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 3, 6, 1, 6, 2, 2, 1) = 26
Well in for a penny in for a pound
Billy walks hands in the air in a swiffy sort of manner
Billy gets closer to the guy with the knife, the biggest s*$$ eating grin across his face.
I would be most grateful if I could perchance just ask you good sir, since you seem like the brains of the outfit just one quick question. As you can see I come to you bareing no ill will
Standing now nearly nose to nose now Billy with the biggest doe eyes he can muster wiggles his right pointer finger to get the goons ear.
Whilst with the other hand unzipping his front pants.
I was just wondering, if perchance
really quiet now
Would you perchance know what what it would be like to have a Nasogastric intubation with a telescopic phallic cylinder that fires projectiles inserted into your nasal cavity?
Activates telescopic pepe gun into goons nose.
The ganger blinks twice, then starts laughing. "Oi, dis chummer's crazy! He's got an artificial member and's waving it around like a flagpole! Wahahah!"
All at once, he lunges forward with his knife and his buddies reach for their guns.
Bards Initiative 1d6 = 3 + 10 = 13
Aiyan
Aiyan reached into the small pouch hanging on his left side, pulled three shuriken from it and threw one of them at the orc. The humans, Aiyan had decided, were less of a threat than the hulk with the scars.
= 5 hits.
1st Pass Action.
Friedrich's chuckle ends when he notices that his team, Billy, has decided to use the lesser of two heads.
"William! Mating with such beast brings an early end! Need not to bring that weapon forth! And ho!"
Bringing forth his greatsword, he unsheathes the mighty blade and hefts it high.
"Scoundrels, you have but to stay your blade and peace shall be rewarded. But with treachery an early visit to the great beyond! What moves do you make?!"
I believe that I glitched...that time.
2nd Pass Action
"Verywell. If its mordheim you wish, then I shall deliver!"
7 hits
Billy figures theres no point in playing now and unloads into the goons head.
Have both barrels you jammy ba#@$%d!
Whips his todger back in his pants