Sylvie nods before following the elf, picking up her almost comically oversized hand cannon as she goes.
"Chances this is an Evo trap? Not zero, but low enough to risk it." Victoria sighs. "I guess it's better than leading Knight Errant back to my apartment by accident..." Victoria mutters. "Fine." She looks at the woman and the baby. "You coming? You look like you could use a place to lay low for a couple of hours."
The party quickly takes stock of things in the Shack and begins discussing plans, as well as speaking quickly to the other folks present. The clerk finally seems aware enough to start responding when Nick talks to him, and he nods without speaking. He also nods at Anya as she goes about picking up her spoils, and slowly turns to enter the back room. The finger-dipper, for his part, pales and shakes and licks his lips, clearly uncomfortable with being the target of her--or anyone's--attention.
The group quickly reaches the decision to head for Nick's place, not too far away and less likely to have Knight Errant showing up in the near future. The clerk's girlfriend points toward the back of the store and mentions a door to the alleyway, and everyone heads that way, including the elf woman with the baby. She gives Victoria and the others a thin smile and shakes her head as the offer to join is made. "Thanks, but I've got other places I can stay safe. I'll make sure you're rewarded soon."
As the woman splits off from the others, the spirit speaks in Phineas's mind again. H̢er͝ ch̨íld? Y͝ơu sur͝e yo̸u w҉ąnt͝ ̴m̸e҉ pr͠ote͡c̴ting them͜? The spirit chuckles and quickly continues, Jus͠t̸ ҉f͜o̶o̷l̢inǵ. ̕I̸'l͠l̛ keep̶ an͝ ̕e҉ye ou̧t̷.͘ Rįn͘g̨ ẃh̶e̛n y̵o͝u ne͞e͡d ̧me҉.̵
Sylvie gives a snort. "Um, lady, we just saved your ass. I think you at least owe as an explanation. At least a half-assed one. Please. I need to come up with something to explain why I'm not coming home tonight other than 'the shack blew up and I'm interrogating a goon."
Whether she gives an explanation or not, Sylvie sighs and shakes her head before taking out a pair of trode goggles and some AR gloves, and frantically making motions with her hands.
flowerfist: s&+# reptile shack just blew up somebody tried to kill this lady and her kid. any anonymous activity that youv picked up on?
Am I sure? Of course not. Just seems like the right thing to do when people blow up a building going after a baby and a woman. But yes, it occurs to me that I might be on the wrong side of this. Phineas chuckles out loud, smiling as he works. Probably appearing more than a little odd to the people he's trying to help.
The elf waits patiently for the Knight Errant officers to arrive and answers their questions as they come.
Bobby...Bobby O'Maley.
Sorry officer, it all happened really fast. The wall exploded and I hid behind those shelves over there. There was gunfire, and smoke, and dust. I didn't come out till it was all quiet again.
He continues answering as "best" he can, playing the part of a citizen caught in the crossfire. (Which, to be fair, is not so far from the truth.)
Orcs maybe? They were all really big.
When it comes to descriptions he's horribly vague and noncommittal. There might have been a gang of orcs? Trolls? No, they definitely weren't that big.
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Anya takes a pause in smacking on her sticks of YESbaconYES to raise an eyebrow as the lady starts to make excuses. "Um, ya, chummer, the horned-one is accurate. A grade-A hit team just used several charges of big-big X-plo-sives to subtract a wall and sent four, at least one cybered, probs one mana-tosser, to give you an invite. Seein' as how we done made them perished, a tie-off to this loose-end 'twould be at least polite."
Anya too doesn't wish to press the matter overly. If she don't wanna talk, Anya is the least worthy to press her so. Her 'ware is still coming down from the maybe-combat high an' a new couch to crash on and consume mass quantities interests her more than something in the past.
"So, Nick-Nicky-NickNick, where's this place of yours? Is it far? Is it clean?"
Victoria scoffs. "Grade-A? Hardly. Grade-C maybe. Or D. Any bloke off the street can get some cyberware with enough nuyen. And that was just sloppy. No plan other than make a flashy entrance and go in the front. No preparation for any resistance. And they fell apart the instant someone shot back. That was pathetic."
Victoria looks blankly at the bubbly girl's hand, like she has no idea what the heck she's on about, before a look of sudden understanding crosses her face. She half-heartedly slaps Anya's hand, looking a bit bemused. "True."
As Sylvie and Anya ask for more information, the baby starts to cry, and the woman shushes it and looks to her saviors with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry, but I can't say much right now. I need to get him home. I promise to you, I'll get you a reward." She looks to Sylvie and smiles again as she rocks the infant. "If you need a reason you're late, say that you saved a woman in trouble, and her child. And you'll be repaid for it very soon." She looks to the baby once more and shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, but I really need to go. Thank you again." With that, she walks away, cooing to the infant in the hopes of quieting it.
Maybe half a minute after folks head out the back, the Knight Errant response car pulls up outside the Stuffer Shack. Two officers step out, one human, one dwarf, and they swagger up to the ruined entrance and step inside. "Ahright," says the human, his voice thick with the local accent, "Anybody wanna tell me just what in the hell happened here?" He sweeps his eyes over the place, taking in the wreckage and each of the remaining folks, then waves his arm in a sweeping come here gesture. "Ahright folks, let's line up over here, me an' my partner're gonna ask you some questions and we'll be on our way." He drops his gaze and seems to finally notice the bodies at his feet. "Jaysus, what kinda sh*t went down here?"
Phineas lines up with the other bystanders and soon enough the dwarf comes up to speak with him. "Alright fella, let's step outside and you let me know what happened here." The dwarf, who's bald with a full mustache, doesn't have so thick an accent, and overall seems a little more down to earth than his partner. He guides Phineas just outside the store and pulls out a pad to take notes as he starts the questions. He raises his eyebrows a few times, but otherwise just goes through the routine of asking what happened and who did it.
"Orks, huh? Maybe one of the gangs from around here. Smart move keeping your head down, kid. And thanks for the help. We'll pull the security footage and see what we can find. If we can just get your SIN and a number to call in case we need to double check anything..." So the conversation trails off into logistics, and then Phineas is free to go. If he sticks around for a little while, he finds out that the cameras all blacked out a few seconds before the explosion, much to the annoyance of the rental cops.
The building Nick guides the others to is somewhat rundown, but it's standing and it's got a lock on the front door. The building itself is pretty old, with a faux-brick exterior that was popular for a while in the '30s. Nick opens it up and leads everybody to an apartment on the third floor. Inside, most of the space is fairly tidy, with a small shelf holding neatly placed books, and a table holding neatly placed empty bottles of booze--quite a few. It's a small affair, of course, but it's private. The main thing that sticks out is a desk across the room: the entire thing is a mess of papers and folders and even a cardboard box haphazardly filled with more sheets of paper. Only the owner would be able to find anything in there quickly.
The room is dark when the group walks in, and Nick doesn't bother flipping the switch. Generator shut off at ten and doesn't kick on until six, so until then, the building's dark. Nick does have some sparse furniture, a couple chairs and a couch, and the room is just big enough for everyone to stand inside with their "package."
1 hit
The thug awakens naked and zip-tied to a chair, a massive troll staring at him with a neutral look, her face shrouded in darkness. In a blink of an eye, an oversized hand cannon is in her fist, and as she casually begins taking the bullets out of the cylinder, she begins talking. "This is a Cavalier Arms Sheriff. Has slightly less force behind it than a Panther XXL. It can punch through five inches of solid rock. It leaves a clean wound." She then holds out a bullet inscribed with "EX" for him to inspect. "This is an EX-Explosive round. Unstable, highly dangerous, and very, very illegal. When the bullet enters your body, it explodes, embedding shrapnel into whatever tissue and organs happen to be nearby. It also tears apart your armor, creating even more shrapnel. I've been told this hurts like hell." Sylvie casually reloads her gun. "Modern-day ware can replace organs and limbs. But for somebody on your budget, I'm betting that you don't have enough nuyen to get bioware to repair simple soft tissue damage. And that's what EX does. Soft tissue damage." Sylvie then points her gun at the man's left calve. "Now, here's what's going to happen: you answer one of my questions, I don't shoot you, and you get twenty nuyen for your trouble. You answer all of my questions without resisting, I contact a fixer of mine who can get you out of here, set up a new identity for you, and a pat on the back, getting you away from whatever idiot hired you. Every time you don't answer a question, I will shoot you in an area of your choice. Then I will ask you again. If you fall unconscious or start bleeding out, one of my friends here will fix you up, then I will wait until it is safe to start asking you questions. Now, here's my first one: Who hired you?"
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Anya tries to walk up the stairs, but the first step proves too great an obstacle for her, and she tumbles to the ground heavily, her lithe halter-and-shorts clad form giggling uncontrollably, the three bottles of wine and fifth of Snakeskin rendering her immune to the large bruise forming on her backside.
Nick bends down and with herculean effort not only maintains his own feet, but assists her up, his hands taking great, and not unwelcome, liberty with her body as he renders his chivalric aid.
The two lean on each other as they ascend, singing together loudly two different songs. He's belting out an oldie by the singer Dave Matthews, but he's never learned it's actually a band. She's just singing the words 'Shake-shake-shake' over and over again, and she'll never know the song wasn't originally done by Maria Mercurial.
They finally get to the top of the stairs, the brown-bagged bottles clenched in their fists miraculously unbroken and unempty, despite valiant efforts to the contrary.
Nick finally manages to turn key in lock, but it takes so long he doesn't realize she's completely removed his pants. The two stumble/fall into the room and the door has barely closed when Anya mounts him and whispers, 'Let's make a night you'll never forget."
Anya walks in casually and looks around. "Nice place ya got here, NickNick. You decorate this yourself? Whoa! Wizard collection of empty bottles ya gots. You do all this yourself or you got a roommate to help out?"
Anya strides over to the faded couch and plops down, her ass sinking in as if it was custom made for her. "Also," she adds after Sylvie finishes the 'bad cop' part, feeling that she should play the opposite, "if you cooperate, you'll be given preferential, bordering on gentle, -possibly-, lover-like treatment." Anya loves that old movie and had waited her entire life to say that.
"Although," she says, closely inspecting the multi-colored stains on the couch, "that last part might have to wait. I can't see anyone getting lover-like treatment in here."
Phineas doesn't dally long at the Shack. After finishing up with the officers he checks again with the other people present to make sure they're physically okay, then begins the short trek home.
Keep in touch. If trouble arises, I'll come. Thanks for the help. The elf pauses as he walks, Out of curiosity, *is* there something wrong with the woman and child?
Once Phineas arrives home, still hungry and now very tired, he collapses on what one could charitably call a bed. Mostly a torn old mattress on the floor up against the wall. He forces himself to get up after a moment and strips off his bloody jacket. Reaching into his haversack he pulls out the small medkit.
Ugh, gotta get rid of this headache.
Popping a few pills he lays back down on the mattress. Even still, sleep proves impossible. Staring at the ceiling, he finds himself waiting for a response back from the spirit.
The group sets up the interrogation and Sylvie gives the punk a couple of slaps to wake him up. He comes to with a heavy wince, then a sudden realization, and quickly looks up. "Oh drek." As the troll continues speaking to him, he continues whispering "Oh drek, oh drek, oh drek" just under his breath. His eyes don't leave the gun, and when she points it at his calf, he clenches his jaw and changes his comments. "Oh f*ck oh f*ck oh--" Other than that, he nods along as she outlines the deal. When Anya offers her side of the deal, he swallows heavily and keeps nodding.
"Okay. Drek. Uh. So the hire. Uhm. Well, it was a Johnson, you know? Like, like I didn't know his name. Y'know, it was like, the real deal. Real runner type drek, I'm talkin'. And the elf, the wiz? He was with him. I didn't know him. He came with the deal. Supposed to make sure we did it right. But, uh, you got him with the others." He blinks a couple times and suddenly seems to realize something. "Hey, wait a minute, you got them, but where's Joeby? You didn't get Joeby, tell me you didn't!" His eyes are wide and panicky, even more than when Sylvie threatened to send some highly illegal ammunition into the meat of his leg.
Phineas sends out another message to the spirit through his contact with it on his way back from the Shack, but for the time being he doesn't get a response. Not long after he takes some pills and lies down, though, he senses a presence in the room, and turns to see the spirit partially manifested, still in the Astral Plane. It's currently inspecting some things on a desk, with what might be amused curiosity.
Oh͜,̸ ̸y͡ǫu͘ are͞ ̧awàke̢. T̷he g͘i̵r̢l m̢a͜de͏ ̶i͢t ͢hom̡e͡, n͜o͝ tr҉o͟u͘b̢le.͞ Nob̶ody͞ s̴aw̢ ͟h̡er̛ w̧hiĺe͢ ͏s҉h҉e was͡ on̶ th̸e͝ w͟a͢y̴. S̀he̴ m͢ade͡ ̛a call ͜a͡f͘t͝er ͢a͞ ̛whil̶e, ̨a̢ ͝càr̨ c͏am͝e and̕ g͝o͘t͞ ̶h̶er͏.͏ ̧I ͟foll̴ow̕ed it̢ ̛to ̡mak͢e ͟su̡r͠e, but͠..̕. The spirit pauses for a few moments. No̡th͘in̢g̸'̡s wr͏o̸ng̛ w͝i̶t҉h ͟the̵m̴, ͞but͢ ̀I̵ d͞o͡n't ̴k̶nơw͢ w̕ho y̢o҉u̸'̡re̶ i̶ńv͟o̡l͘v̕ed wi͡th̴.͜ ͠Th͠e͝ b͝uil͞d͘iņg̕ s̷he went͝ int̵o̧ ͟w͠as̛ ҉warde̷d͜. H҉e͡avi͏ļy̶.̕ No͢ w̧ày͜ I wa͘s ́g͞oing͠ i͘n̢ t͜hęre̴ w͢i̢th̕o͝u͏t͢ ̸di̢rec͡t̷ ̡o͝r͠ders,͏ and s҉in̕ce ̢y̨óu d̛id̡n̵'t ͏s͝ay̢,͠ ͠I̸ ̕c͞a͘m̕e͘ ba̵ck.
The spirit seems to smirk again. Go̕ơd̷ serva̸n͜t͟,͠ a̧in't̛ I̡? ̕T́h̕e ͘k̕i͢nd ͘o̡f s͡pi̕r̨i͡t you ͘say͜ ̵tha҉nk͟s̢ ànd͟ le̡t̕ g҉o, ͘b̧eca͠use I did wh̸at ̕y̵o̴u ҉w̛ąn͞t̶ȩd̀ ̵and͢ w̵e b̶o͢th̴ ̡h̛av̴e ͜oth̸e̢ŗ th͜i͠ng͜ş to̶ t̕ąk̴e ca̶r͞e òf̷. So h̡ow̵ a͟bout̴ ͝you s͞áy thé ́d͟ism͡ìssal a͞nd ̢w̡ę ͠b̨o̷t̶h ͟mov̕e ͢o͘n ̷w͜i̷th ̢o͢ur li̛vès.̵
Phineas sits himself up on his elbows, and tilts his head as he watches the spirit. Thanks. Good call not going into the building. I'm sure she's safe there and that's all I needed. He smiles a wry smile as he continues, If you don't mind telling me, I'd like to know where she went. But, of course, you are released from any service to me. You did everything I asked of you and more. Thank you for the honor. The elf chuckles as he thinks, You would think a spirit of such power would be above the 'too cool for school' attitude, but to each their own. One cannot escape their very nature.
After dismissing the spirit he lays awake only a few moments longer and then drifts off to a well earned sleep.
"Who's Joeby?" Nathaniel asks, breaking his silence. He gestures for Sylvie to step aside, before leaning in close to the street tough. "You asked if we got Joeby; is he a friend of yours?" He doesn't draw his own pistol, but instead draws a long, slender knife from a sheath at the small of his back. He flips it around into an ice-pick grip before motioning for one of the others to search him. "Find his commlink," he says, before leaning closer with the knife, the diamond-encrusted surface catching every little glint of light, pressing closer and closer to the tough's throat. "Was he part of your crew, maybe? Maybe he set the explosives, or he was a decker?"
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As the hostage talks, Anya cracks open one of her NagasakiNectarine beverages. She turns the bottle upside-down and shotguns half the bottle. Coming up for air she gives a slight inquisitive smack, and, finding the taste pleasing, nods slightly.
She takes out her hip flask of bourbon and pours some into the bottle, topping it off again. The flask going back into an inner pocket, she replaces the cover and gives the bottle a vigorous shake. She looks at the bottle with an art-critic's eye, which seems more than a little silly since she's just judging the color of soda and booze. She tastes the mixer and is pleased with her work. She samples another fortifying gulp before returning her full attention to the moment at hand.
"Who the frag cares what a Joeby is? What's -your- name, chummer? Hell, what are the names of all your swiftly-cooling friends, too? Don't get all hissy, I just wanna know what to call everyone what got perished by Sylvie here. It makes record-keeping easier," she asks of the trussed up man.
At Paladin's insistence, she sashays over and again performs a professional search of the man. "Professional search" in this case seems to be a lack of shying away from the man's crotch area, and indeed maybe showing a bit more enthusiasm than is strictly needed. While searching she piggybacks on the question. "Ya, why blow the frag outa the wall? Door not quick enough for all you high-rollers?"
"He seems concerned about whomever 'Joeby' happens to be, which means we ought to be too, at least until we know who they are." Nathaniel says with an even tone, his eyes still locked with the other man's. "If he's working with our captive here, that presents a liability; someone who could potentially identify you to the authorities, or stage some sort of rescue attempt. I don't think you really want to deal with either of those options, do you?"
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On the way to his flat, Nick couldn't shake the feeling off. Some kind of tingling sensation, maybe his years of experience telling the investigator that he had forgotten something.
Or it could be the mana explosion aftereffects. Or simply the fact that he was too tired back at the Shack to consider the ramifications of allowing a group of highly disfunctional murderhobos into his home.
Or maybe you are curious about where does this end, Eh Nick?
After chastising him for the hundreth time since the start of the short trip, they arrived. He did at least keep it tidy, but after Gauntlet's thesis about the application of high explosive ammunition on unexposed flesh he feared a thorough clean up would be in order. Anya's stance made him fear other less savory fluids would need cleaning too.
The investigator took a loooong sip off his new bottle and called the rest apart for a second. "Oi, cats. I appreciate the effort, but unless any of you have real experience extracting information out of captives lemme give it a try."
The man known as Nick Sarge picked a chair and put it in front of the chummer. He looked at him, then at the bottle, then back at him. Another mouthful and Nick slapped him.
Mind you, it wasn't a motherly slap. Neither was it a pimp one. It was a slap whose purpose was twofold: helping the tool focus and reminding him who was in charge. A harsh, thorough, police-like backslap.
And he offered him a sip too.
"Bo, this is my home. I like my home, keep it tidy. This is my sanctuary. Now, there are two ways from here. You can start sprouting words -and they better be the ones I want to hear- and you'll get some sleepy juice, enough to help you pass out and live to rustle someone's else jimmies another day." he said with a calm voice, not even altering himself as he took his gun out and hold it with the other hand.
"Or you can choose the hard way. I hit you, then the troll hits you. Then I hit you some more and we all decide whose turn is it. In the end we get the same information but you end bleeding out in a back alley. And I keep the booze."
"I won't ask you drek. You speak til' I'm satiated. Everything you even consider worth my time, you spill it, bo. Lie to me once, you get a bullet in the end. Lie to me twice... you won't be so lucky, punk."
"No no no, Joeby's my brother. My kid brother." He shakes his head at the mention of the commlink. "We left 'em in the car, wiz's orders. Joeby's our decker, yeah, he's good with comms and the Matrix and all that, but he's not a pro. He's just my kid brother." When Anya begins getting handsy anyway in the search for the commlink, he squirms, clearly uncomfortable, and coughs. "Hey, knock it off, will ya? I'm cooperating."
He shakes his head when the search is finished, and continues talking. "My name's Ted, Ted Hollis. I'm called Stooby. The head guy was Crank, and his buddy Fizz was on the job too. The elf, I didn't know his name, I swear. He didn't say. Gave me the creeps, I didn't like him." He breathes slowly and glances at the big revolver. "The wall was a mistake, we were blowing the car. But Joeby was on the button cause he's the tech guy, and he waited. It was supposed to be a slot and run, and it got fragged real quick. Crank hit Joeby and took the trigger but by then she was inside and then you guys showed up and..." He shakes his head. "Dammit. I should never have gotten involved..."
Right about then, Nick takes over. The slap rings out with a meaty clap, and Stooby starts and blinks several times, his mouth half-open with surprise. He takes in Nick's business-like chat and nods at the end, as vigorously as he have before. "You got it, man. I'm telling you everything I know."
The spirit gives the address of the building--it's in a nice part of town, but a little Matrix research would be in order to find out much more. The spirit then gives a final snark, a chuckle, and fades away.
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Good job, Nick. Nice and good job. Frag, you even managed to avoid cleaning the floor."
Nick handles Ted the bottle with a smile. "You honest, Ted. I like honesty... can't stand a lie." he says as he stands up and removed the chair "Get comfy, bo. Drink some. Chill. I'll discuss with the rest how can we pick your brother... but your chances of outliving Crank have gone upwards, I can tell ya that at least."
Lighting a cigarette, Nicholas makes himself confortable resting his back agaibst the wall. When he speaks he does it in barely a whisper so the rest can hear him but Ted can't.
"You heard him. He's a runner, a low one, but he doesn't seem that bad, may even be a nice guy sith a shady job in the end. I'd rather not geek unarmed guys in my living room... or anywhere for what's worth. Hell, he may even be of use in the future, so my vote goes to getting his brother here and trying to get a job out of this. Anyway, I know yer names, bos... but what the hell are all of you? Half of you could pass as his pals in other jobs, and the rest may be as well military."
The investigator inhales the smoke deeply and exhales it slowly "I am a Investigator. Well, was... may as well try to switch careers before I die of hunger or stupidness."
Victoria scoffs at how quickly the man cracks. She knew he wasn't a professional, but this is almost pathetic. Almost. The troll knew how to make a threat. She'd make damn good muscle. "We never saw a decker, so I assume he's fine, assuming Knight Errant didn't pick him up. Depends on if your brother was smart enough to lay low when the coppers showed up."
She smirks. "Maybe we should have our new friend tell us where we can drop him off. If he's living with his kid brother, we can... impress upon them the importance of keeping their mouths shut."
"He's a decker, then? If you didn't find a commlink, then..." Nathaniel trails off, bringing a hand up to his ear and concentrating, before searching digitally for the man's PAN, and by extension his comm signal. "We never saw your brother, but I'm gonna guess you've got a way to keep in touch; something like a comm or a PDA, right? Once I get access, I can send a message and piggyback off the signal to find his location." Nathaniel's eyes seem almost glossy as he speaks, before he shakes his head for a second and looks at Ted, his eyes stern. "If he's got a knack for slinging code I'm gonna guess he was bright enough to make a run for it when Knight Errant showed up, so I doubt he's in custody. The real question is, are you gonna give me access or is this gonna be difficult?"
Gauntlet steps aside and leans against the wall with Nick, letting the professional interrogators do the work. At Nick's question, she nods. "You got it, Nick. This poor SOB looks like he's just watched too many Seattle Sundown trids. He doesn't deserve a bullet for his stupidity. Especially an EX round." Gauntlet shifts somewhat uncomfortably. "Wouldn't wish that on anybody who doesn't deserve it. And it's Gauntlet until I trust you enough to let you into my apartment. Considering how 'wacky band of runners with hilarious quirks who got pulled together by circumstance' is just a few steps above 'that shady looking dwarf in the corner of the bar,' you won't even know what's my favorite color for a while, chummer."
Stooby nods at Nick's comments, and looks at the bottle--held in his hand, still zip-tied to the chair. He doesn't say anything more for a few moments, as his interrogators discuss whats to be done. He does look relieved that his brother apparently got away.
When the elf asks him about comms, Stooby nods several times, but then shakes his head. "Sorry man, the elf had us stick our comms in a bag and leave it in the car, everybody but Joeby. If he didn't get bagged, he probably drove off with it. You won't get any trouble though, man, not from me, not from Joeby. He's never done this kinda stuff, hell, neither have I really. This was real fraggin' runner drek man, I dunno how to do this stuff. I guess you already figured that out, though, right?" He gives a nervous chuckle.
--Spare clips, 6, fully loaded
AK-97 carbine, 1
--Spare clips, 4, fully loaded
Armored Jackets, 2
Armored Vest, 1
Some assorted pocket stuff (lint, candy wrappers, one unchewed stick of gum
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While the others talk reason and Stooby starts to open up, Anya takes out one unchewed stick of gum and starts chomping on it while she seems to go over an assortment of low-quality weapons and armor. She checks the clips in the guns and makes sure the safety is on with the quick hands of one who knows her way around tools of ill omen.
About the time Sylvie is finishing up, Anya just pops the loose loot against the stand that holds up the empty bottles of booze. The gum, which wasn't that wiz to begin with, has lost its flavor and she unceremoniously adorns a random bottle with it. She notices some odd splotches on the bottle, as if it'd had gum stuck to it before...but that's unlikely, and she troubles her brain no further with it.
Nick: Hey! Stop leaving your gum all over the fragging place!
Anya: Hey honey, it's just how I mark my territory. You wouldn't want this place to look like I've never been here?
As the man gives a sub-satisfactory answer to Nathanial, Anya tries the direct approach. "So, ah, yer bro, he got all the comms, huh?" Anya extracts her Ikon from her shapely back pocket. "Way I see it, you an' he both got yer hoops slotted. Might be lookin' for some answers. Maybe a little payback. Maybe he's got some data what can put 2 and 2 together. Maybe he'd like t' come an' party with us.
What his number?"
Here, Stooby finally clams up and stops being so helpful. "Hell no, man, I'm sorry, but I ain't doin' that. Joeby's my kid brother, I gotta watch out for him, and there's no reason for you to go looking for him, okay? I already told you, we don't know nothin', we just got hired to do it and the elf did all the thinking, he didn't tell us drek. You gotta believe me, guys, and leave him alone!" The young man's eyes are wild again, frantic and panicky.
After some pressure, Stooby caves and nods, hanging his head. "Yeah, yeah, okay, you win. I don't--I don't wanna give you his number though, okay, cause he'll freak if he gets a call from a number he don't know, for one, and for another I don't need you guys calling up my kid brother for kicks or keeping us scared or something. But if I can get my clothes back, I'll--I'll take you to my place, I'm sure that's where he went."
Sylvie nods and steps forward, casually ripping apart his zip ties and tossing him back his clothes. "Everybody, give the man some privacy," she says cooly as she tosses him his clothes and exits the room.
"Yeah, I don't need to see him getting dressed." Victoria lets the man get his clothes on so they can go visit his brother and cover their tracks. "Just be quick about it."
Nathaniel gives Anya a glance when she doesn't give the man any privacy, but shrugs before leaving the room himself. 'I mean, it's not like he wasn't already stripped naked,' he thinks, his arms folded across his chest. He takes a moment to toggle off the AR display on his goggles, then pulls them off his face down around his neck. He lets them hang against his chest while he taps his foot absentmindedly. "All I wanted was some damned dog food," he mutters.
Stooby gratefully, and hastily, and somewhat sheepishly, dons his clothing, steadfastly trying to ignore the presence of the others in the room, as well as Anya's half-turned back. After about a minute, he's back in his full outfit, cargo pants tucked into boots, with his jacket thrown on over a sweatshirt. He finishes securing the straps on the boots and then stands up and exhales slowly. "Ahright. I guess, uh, I guess we'll go now. You don't gotta put a gun on me or anything, I'm not that dumb." He waits for someone else to open the door, and then heads out with the rest of the group, standing where prompted--in front, in the middle, wherever he's directed.
It's about four-thirty in the morning as Stooby leads the group out through the streets of the sprawl. "It's, uh, kind of a walk from here, unless you wanna get a car somehow. I mean, could call a taxi, or if you got a ride, or we could, y'know, nab one, it'd be milk. I'm happy to walk though, it's what, maybe half an hour, your call." Whether the group gets a ride or not, he directs them down a combination of main streets and alleyways, taking what's either an oddly circuitous route or, as becomes evident after a few minutes, simply the shortest route to where he's headed.
Finally, Stooby leads the group to a rundown apartment building in one of the sprawl's many slum neighborhoods, a complex that is obviously in far worse condition than even Nick's building was. The building doesn't even have any sort of PAN access or other security--just a big lock on the front door. He pauses, pats his pockets, curses under his breath, and says, "Hangonaminute" quickly as he crouches to the ground. He lifts a pair of the several large cinderblocks lying by the doorway, revealing a key that was hidden underneath, and grins as he twists it in the lock. "Sorry, I gave Joeby the key before the job, y'know, just in case anything happened. Guess that was the right call, huh?" He replaces the key and the blocks, and then leads the way inside. "We're up here."
The elevator is, of course, out of order, so the group ascends a full eleven flights of stairs until Stooby heads onto a main floor and down a dingy hallway. At the end, he knocks on a door and calls, "Hey Joeb, it's Ted, lemme in, bud. I'm okay, it's okay."
A few seconds later, there's the sound of several locks being undone, and the door cracks open, a chain lock still visible as a boyish face peers out. "Ted? You're really okay? You got a big bruise on your face, man, what happened? I woke up and the car was fragged and the cops were showing up so I ran." Then the kid's eyes go past Stooby and catch glimpses of the rest of the group in the hall. "Who's with you? They aren't cops, are they?"
"If we were cops, your brother would be half-dead in Interrogation right now," Sylvie replies flatly, arms crossed over her chest. "We're real runners, not the ones in trids that you two s%#$heads decided to try to imitate tonight. Now, here's what's going to happen. First, you're going to let us inside. Second, you're going to tell us everything that you remember about the meet. And I mean everything, down to what kind of tie the Johnson was wearing. Then, you're going to do your decker drek with Paladin over there to try and find out as much as you can about the Johnson and the elf mage. While you're doing that, we will check out the meet you chucklef&+&s decided to ignore your survival instinct to go to. Don't worry, Wraith will protect your scrawny asses while you hack while we're gone. Stooby can attest that we mean business. Are we clear?"
"You really do watch a lot of trids, don't you?" Nathaniel says jokingly, gently pushing the troll aside so he can talk to the kid. "We're... not cops, but we did put the bullet holes in your older brother that I so kindly stitched up for him." He nods towards the inside of the apartment, giving the youth a pointed look. "You're gonna want to let us inside. Your brother said you were working as the decker; I have a few questions for you." He looks over at Sylvie again, and then to Anya. "And I don't need protection. I used to work--" he starts, before cutting himself off. "Never mind, just... I can handle myself. I've had plenty of practice, trust me."
'And where the hell'd you learn the name 'Paladin' anyway? Am I that notorious already? I guess word gets around when a former corporate spider joins the shadows...'
"Remind me why we care about the Johnson and the mage again," Victoria says, leaning against the doorframe. "Because I'm just here to make sure that the decker doesn't get stupid and start handing out descriptions of us if the cops starting poking around."
Sylvie sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. "It's like Bear decided to so dramatically tell you all: as far as the Johnson knows, we were working for his target. He's probably scrambling to find out as much as he can about us before trying to capture us and interrogate us. Or maybe just send a hit squad."
Joeby stares pretty blankly at Sylvie for a few moments, then comes to as Nathaniel repeats her first instruction. "Uh, yeah, yeah, come in, yeah, make yourselves at home." He closes the door, the sound of the chain being moved is heard, and then he opens it up again, letting the group inside. The apartment is livable, and lived-in, but it's relatively small and dingy. Taking the place of Nick's booze bottles are lots of boxes of cheap take-out and HeatReady(TM) meals, and there's a small trid monitor with an obsolete gaming console hooked up across from the one couch, which looks to be more rips than fabric at this point.
Joeby himself looks to be maybe seventeen years old, skinny and wide-eyed as he looks at the parade of runners coming into his home. Stooby quickly gives him a bear hug and ruffles his hair, and then the brothers turn to face their new... acquaintances. They listen to the questions and comments, nodding, and then begin to speak. Joeby starts by responding to Anya, pointing to the fridge unit at the far corner. "Yeah, there's some stuff in there. And, uh, I guess you can call me--" Presumably, he trails off as Anya simply heads to the fridge, and then they start spewing info.
"So, uh, the meet. I [Stooby] got a call from Crank about it, a couple days ago? Said he wanted to make it bigger time, get in the real game, not just busting heads and stealing nuyen off the streets. Said he knew a guy who put him in touch with a fixer, who put him in touch with a Johnson. Said it should be easy enough, but decent pay and if we did it right it could set up other jobs---Yeah, said it would be a good way to get started and that it wouldn't need much, just some muscle and somebody who could run a commlink, so Stooby brought me along cause he figured it wasn't anything too bad, right?
"Yeah. Anyway. The meet was at some club downtown, fancier, right? Called the, uh, the Lumen, I think---Yeah, the Lumen. Neat place, good lights, cool music---Sure, sure. So we, uh, we wore our best duds, which wasn't really much, y'know, but we did what we could. The Johnson was some guy in a suit and shades, I guess that's pretty typical, there's lots of guys like that around so I couldn't pinpoint him---His tie was like an off-black---What?---Like mostly black but not quite, like his suit was a little more black than the tie was, the tie was like a little shiny I think, or maybe that was just the lights. What? She wanted to know!---Aaanyway, he started talkin' once we sat down, just some basic questions like what to call us and what we were good at. I told him that Joeby here was good with hardware and the guy nodded and said that'd work for this job. Said it was simple, we blow up some lady's car with her in it when she was alone someplace, like at night or something. Asked if we was okay with that, we said yeah, he said there'd be a fifth guy working with us, somebody he wanted involved. Didn't say who, just said when we got a call from him we should meet up where he said and do the job.
"After that he just got our comm numbers and we left. Then yesterday, like right as we're heating up dinner we get the call. The elf met us in an alley over in another part of town, took the comms and we drove to the chick's house. We set the bomb easy---Yeah, the elf brought it, it was neat, better than homemade stuff, but not like military. It fit right in the hood nice and simple and was set to go with a call to the number, easy---Yeah, so we set that and then got in our car and waited. Couldn't see much, but when the lady's car started we followed her from like a block back, maybe two? Lights off so she didn't see us. She drove pretty straight to the Shack and we were gonna blow it there and the elf said to wait until she got out. So she parked it and got out and that's when we saw the kid.
"---Yeah, the guy didn't say anything about a kid! What the hell is that, I think you hire people to kill a lady you tell 'em if she has a fu---Watch it, Joeb. She had a kid and that's why Joeby didn't blow it immediately, and then Crank hit him and took the comm and made the call. Then he chucked the link in the car and we went over, and, uh, you know the rest."
After they finish their description of events, Joeby looks at Nathaniel. "And so yeah, we can--Aww, sh--shucks." He reaches into his pocket and his face screws up in a look of disappointment and frustration. "It's in the car. It's still in the car with the others."
"So? Go downstairs and get it."
"No, Ted, I left the car there---You WHAT?---I panicked! I woke up and there was fire there and half the fraggin' store was gone and the rents were on the way so I ran! You know I don't like driving anyway, man, I left the fraggin' car, aw, geez..." Joeby slaps his forehead and paces along the wall, shaking his head. "I really cranked this one, huh?"
"No, it's--It's my fault, you're just a kid, I shouldn't have brought you in." Stooby turns to the group before he sees the hurt expression that Joeby shoots him. "Man, this is the real drek, huh, guys? I swear it's all true, okay, we aren't making it up, the car's gotta still be there with everything, if the rents didn't find it."
Sylvie nods calmly at their fumbling explanation. "Good. Thank you for the information." The massive troll thinks for a moment, before saying, "There was an elf I thought I saw slinging some mojo back at the shack. Some really powerful stuff. He might help us get a lead on the Johnson astrally while Joeby and Paladin try to track them down via the Matrix. I've been told by various mages that I have a blindingly large 'astral signal' or something, so if we get that mage in on the job, we might be able to track your elf friend like that. Linking up to a bomb probably did something to the commlink, and we might be able to get a lead from the actual type of bomb used." Sylvie turns to Paladin. "You and Joeby stay here and see if you can get some of the interviews from the crime scene. We might be able to find that elf-not the elf that was working with those two, but, drek, this is gonna get confusing-that way. You with the eye tat, first, tell me your running name, then head over to the shack and drive the car over here. You look like you can do that inconspicuously. Wraith, I still want you to stay here. The Johnson probably knows where Joeby and Stooby live, and we all know what most Johnsons' policy on cleanup are. As much as I'm confident in Paladin's skills, I don't want him alone, protecting two newbies, while pinned down by a bunch of goons. Nick, you come with me to the Lumen and let's see if we can sniff out more about this Johnson. Everybody good with that?" Why am I suddenly the one giving orders? Sylvie asks herself while the, well, gives orders.
"Sounds legit," Victoria says as the two finish their story. "The Lumen is the kind of place where Johnsons go looking for rookies and where lower end thugs hang out and get plastered. Which kind of makes sense. This entire job reeks of a mafia hit. A kind of thrown together one, but the mage seemed to know what he was doing at least. Still sloppy, but whatever."
"Nix," Victoria says. "And you do realize that any half decent Johnson was just a middleman for whoever put out the hit and that he's not going to start some kind of vendetta over this. These two certainly don't know enough to be a threat to anyone. It's a waste of resources to try to kill someone you intentionally left in the dark."
Sylvie shrugs. "Call me paranoid. Well, don't, but the exact same thing happened to me a good bit ago. The g@@$&+n mage grew a sniper bullet out of his skull the moment the job was completed, and we didn't even know what we were delivering. I'd rather have these two as assets rather than corpses, no matter how minimal the chance of the latter happening is."
"Fine, fine. I'll go pick up the fragging car."
"Good. I would give you some s@@~ about making sure not to get spotted by 'rents driving a car that was involved in blowing up half a Stuffer Shack, but you look competent enough that you don't need that kind of reminder."
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Nick spends the trip submerged in his thoughts.
Well, you hit the jackpot, Nick. I mean, you are a fragging walking disaster, what with never finishing anything and screwing yourself over. But teaming with a group of misfits, some of them with accountable crimes almost surely, trying to help another walking disaster who tried to kill you? That's a winner. Knowing your bad luck you might end killed by any of them, probably the hyperactive chromed cutie... or even worse, you might end making friends with them.
Smiling to himself, Nick observed the rest, trying to know them with a glanze... truting his guts.
First, he watched Gauntlet. Man, she was scary... but at the same time she was trustworthy. Didn't even thought twice before jumping punch first on the shady runners back at the Shack. Neither doubt when deciding if she wanted to help Stooby or not.
After the troll came Anya. The trigger happy, overexcited, prone to fits of violence as well as love seemed a wild card. But something about her, something Nick couldn't register, told him she wasn't as crazy as she tried to show.
As Nick was studying the Doctor, the group arrived. Cutting his train of thought, Nick checked his smartgun's clip and kickstarted the link. Better prepared and stressed than bleeding out. he said to himself.
The kid, Joeby, looked like... well, a kid. Gauntlet and Paladin had everything under control, and so he decided to inspect the flat. Less tidy and clean than his, but equally small.
When the boyos finished singing and Gauntlet started barking orders, Nick couldn't help but smile as he made his best parade salute "Yessir! Just kidding, Gauntlet, even if you would make a fine ass Lieutenant. And call me Sarge, if we are going to use running names, Nick is gonna be a bad one." turning to the rest, Nick said "I agree with Nyx, nobody's gonna try and geek two guys who know s$~*. Not with the only link to the Johnson, that drek filled mage, dead. But hey, I'm a luckless bastard, so maybe two killsquads are already on their way. Anyway, I don't think you brought your big toys to buy some snacks... I got a pump-action shotgun back at my place, you might need it. She saved my bacon more than once, treat her like the fine lady she is." he says as he throws his keys to Wraith. "You can take my bike to return faster, but don't scratch it. I like her more than anything."
With an eyewink towards Gauntlet Nick says "Ready when you are."