Gauntlet smirks at Nick. "Heh. Sarge. I like it. As for firepower, the Sheriff does its job more than well enough. Nix, what's the address on the Lumen?" "Alright. Stooby, Joeby, if you even think that's something's wrong, head for cover. No heroics, Wraith and Paladin can handle themselves. Let's roll, people." She begins moving towards the exit, presumably with Nick in tow.
Nix rattles of the address. "Oh, either of you two have a key, or should I just hotwire the damn thing when I get there?"
Nathaniel's long ears perk up at the mention of the shotgun, standing straight up alongside his head. "Actually, if you don't mind... I left my own back at my place. I figured I wouldn't need it, y'know, on my way to get some fraggin' dog food from the fraggin' Stuffer Shack. I'm a decent shot with this," he says, gesturing to the Ares Predator strapped to his thigh, "But I'm used to something with a little more kick. I know you're all worried about me having to look after these two if some goons come knocking, but I've dealt with worse if you'd rather have her help elsewhere." He looks at the two brothers, before taking his hand off the pistol again. "I don't have much to do until I have those commlinks, anyway. I need something to trace a signal off of."
'You've dealt with worse, alright. Remember that time Aztechnology sent a team of runners after an experimental nuclear prototype? This'll be milk compared to a full team of runners on me with a jammed shotgun; a hit squad might be a refreshing change of pace at this point.'
"Figured as much. See if you can get into the 'rent database and find the interviews from the shack so we can track down the friendly elf mage, get another way to track, another warm body, and some mojo of our own."
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"Kaythanksgreat," intones Anya as the mention of a fridge and what it contains is stated, cutting off whatever Joeb was saying.
"Dude. I know they -make- Blue Ribbon still, but I didn't think I'd ever actually meet anyone who still -drank- it. Okay, yeah, I may have partaken my share in high school, but seriously?"
Immediately dismissing her just-stated dismissal, she takes an ice-cold can of Pabst and tastes it. "Ugh. Yuck. This is disgusting." She takes another sip and leans against the wall.
She doesn't add much to the conversation, either through confidence in the professionalism of the current crew, or through boredom, but it's hard to tell.
She's in mid-sip as Nick tosses the keys in her direction, but her off-hand comes up and catches them with mechanical precision. She cocks an eyebrow at him. "You sure?"
As Paladin speaks up, she sifts her gaze to him. "Soooo, do you wanna go get your gun and Nick's gun while I stay here an' babysit these two an' change their nappies?
Oh don't look at me like that....you don't know how I change nappies."
*wink*
"Or do you want me to swing by your place -and- Nick's place, picking up the biggest ordinance I can find?"
"I mean, if you're all thinking there'll be trouble, I'd rather have something a little heftier than this. If you wanna grab mine, that'd be milk." He takes a moment to give Anya the general direction of his place, detailing the roads to take and the apartment number. "When you get to the door, tell the orc who answers the door that you wanted to know if you could borrow an umbrella; that's our passcode, he'll know I sent you. His name's Cuervo, he's a fun guy; oh, and the dog's name is Bucky. It's from some old movie, I think? Cuervo's obsessed with them. Anyway, he'll know where I keep it, so just let him know I need it and he'll get it to you. He'll probably be armed when you open the door; don't worry too much about it."
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Anya cocks an eyebrow. "What, you don't have locks on your doors? This guy Cuervo is just home all the time? Meh. Whatevs."
Anya tosses back her Pabst and puts the empty container neatly inside a discarded HeatReady box. "Anyone else want anything while I'm gone? Sweet. Don't burn the place down. Later!"
She heads out the door, looking for Nick's bike. She thinks she'll swing by her own place to pick up her Ruger as long as everyone is getting dressed up to go someplace nice.
"Of course I have a lock," Nathaniel says, raising an eyebrow. "It's like 3:30 in the morning, it's not like he's gonna be out for a jog; I was the one who had to run out for dog food. I--" Nathaniel starts to continue, before noticing Anya has already left the room. He lets his sentence hang in the air for a moment, then sighs. "Well, I guess we're looking to see what we can find on that elf who was with us. Do you still have your commlink, bud? Or did you leave it with the others?"
The alley is empty. The car is gone. A bit of searching around finds a few signs that it was here--a dark patch of asphalt where some condensation or other liquid leaked onto the pavement. Rubber marks where it apparently peeled out, heading away from the Shack--in reverse, maybe, given the description of events that Stooby and Joeby told. Whatever the case, the car's missing now, and it looks like somebody drove it away.
Joeby, for his part, is interested in trying. "I mean, you've got some killer 'ware here, man, this link is amazing. Your gear and my skills, and, I dunno, your skills to I guess, I bet we can make it work."
You exit the Stooby and Joeby's building with the others, and soon split off on your own. The trip back to Nick's place is pretty quick, now that you know the way, roughly, and can move a little quicker. In his apartment you find the shotgun after some searching, along with a duffel bag to throw it in and carry it, and whatever else you end up with. The bike is in a small parking area behind the building, protected by the most basic measure against potential thieves: a tall chain-link fence with a lock on the front. Sometimes the old ways are best.
You swing over to your place next, as it creates a loop between Nick's, Nathaniel's, and Stooby's. Getting your own gear is no issue at all, as you know where it is and simply pick it up and move on. Nathaniel's place, though, is a little more interesting. It's in a fairly rough neighborhood, although the building itself is nice enough, and relatively new and in good condition. The next-door neighbors are interesting, though: the building directly adjacent on the street sports a very prominent Humanis Policlub banner over the door, and a number of similar banners with wonderful slogans hanging from various windows. Nathaniel's building has a doorman out front even at this hour, a bulky troll in a comically baggy suit, one stink eye always aimed at the building next door. He nods to you as you approach, and on learning you're a friend of a tenant, he opens the door for you--apparently he mostly has one focus, and it isn't on people who ride up on motorcycles.
Nathaniel's apartment is near the top of the building, and true to form the door is locked. After your knock, nearly a full minute passes before you hear a lock open and a previously hidden peephole slides open. Staring out at you are a pair of orange eyes, narrowed and focused despite the late hour and the bloodshots around the irises. No voice comes immediately, and after you mention the umbrella, the eyes continue to stare at you for a few seconds. Finally, the peephole slams shut, and you hear several locks being undone before the door finally opens, allowing you in before it quickly shuts again.
Standing inside is quite possibly the biggest ork you've ever seen, standing over six and a half feet tall and thick with muscle. He's wearing a tank top and cotton shorts, and his appearance gives the impression that he just woke up--although he's also obviously aware and ready for action. He's indeed armed, not with a gun, but with a huge sword that looks like a katana but much bigger, held loosely and easily in one hand. He sniffs, cracks his neck, and gestures to the spacious and moderately-furnished apartment. "Hey there. What'd Paladin send you for? Is he in trouble?"
Sylvie smiles awkwardly. It almost looks more like a feral grin. "Name is Sylvie. We're just here to... grab a few drinks before heading home. Bar crawls, you know," she chuckles nervously. She awkwardly rattles out a SIN .
Phineas sleeps the dreamless sleep of one exhausted.
"Fan-fragging-tastic." Victoria just shakes her head as she looks at the empty space where the car should be. "This is what happens when you leave the keys in the car in a shady alley in Boston. Dumb little sh*ts." Tracking a missing car is a bit outside her skill set, and the thing is probably already at a chop shop to sell it for parts. Or maybe get rid of evidence, depending on who took it and why. "Guess I'll just head back and tell the amateurs that their car got jacked."
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Anya smiles, and to Cuervo it looks friendly. Although inside she's thinking, 'And -this- is what I'm glad I don't look like.'
Her eyes alight on the sword and her grin broadens. "Hey! Is that an Ares 225 Wallace-class CavBuster Claymore? Rock ass!" Without waiting for an invite she steps up and runs a hand along the blade's length. "I always wanted one but I heard they break against class-B armor or higher. 'Course after I heard that, I heard -that- was trog-drek, but damage done, right omae?"
She bends down and starts scanning the apartment making whistle noises interspersed with, "Here puppy-puppy-puppy. Who's a cute? Who's got floppity ears? Who has a tummy? Who has a fuzzy tummy and floppity ears? Who's a cutie puppy dog?
Oh, Dude-man wanted to stay back an' look for some comms with two guys who tried to kill him so he wanted me t' come back an' grab his shotgun. We might get dolled up an' go sumplace nice so he wanted to get right. Might could grab ammo too, less he carries 3-zero aught shells just for the frag of it.
Oh, I'm Wraith. So where's the dog?"
You sigh at the discovery of the missing car, and begin making your way back toward the apartment. As you pass by one alley, though, you hear a man's shout, as if in surprise and fear. Glancing in, you see what looks to be a couple of street thugs with knives in hand menacing a thin man in gaudy, brightly-colored clothing--the type that suggests he was looking for 'business' on the streets tonight. "The Teacher says we're supposed to get our dues, so just hand it over, omae," one of the thugs says. "Nice and easy, and there won't be any trouble."
Even as you start to whistle for the dog, it appears: a huge bull mastiff that starts out just walking through a doorway, then bounds up as you make it clear you're handing out affection. You're tackled by almost a hundred and fifty pounds of muscled hound. The dog nuzzles at your hand and licks at your skin, and then the ork snaps his thick fingers and the dog turns and bounds over to him. It leaps into the air and, despite its size, Cuervo easily catches the dog, dropping his sword to the ground and scratching the mastiff under its chin.
"He keeps the shotgun and ammo in the closet, usually. Hidden panel in the floor, just flick the light switch four times when the door's open. Should pop right open. Yes it should, yes it should!" The ork turns back to the dog, speaking in the voice people so often use to address animals, although usually smaller ones.
Nix glances down the alleyway. "This is not my problem in any way, shape, or form." She keeps walking.
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Way to go, chaps. Waaaay to go.
Nick looks at the noisy dwarf, then back at Sylvie, then he looks up... No! Wait! He was just rolling his eyes.
With an exhasperated sigh he starts talking "I'm an awful liar.... Look, a friend of us got himself and his younger brother in a bad job. As far as we know he may be up to his fragging nose in drek, but he is a lucky bastard so he may get away from this bulldrek just fine." Nick points towards Sylvie with a thumb "My pal here and I came to find out if he should start praying or not, hell, we came just so we could see the full picture instead of scared s%~*less babbling and half-assed explanations."
"But I was being completely honest about the whiskey, it's been an awfully fragging long night."
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"A No-datch-EE? Ooooo. Chinese. Nice!" she says, feeling quite sophisticated.
Unable to control herself, she joins in on the belly-rub-time, vigorously rubbing and petting the fuzzy puppy, making noises that sound like "Aesh aesh aesh."
Having gotten her fix of pets (she didn't have any and never would. They always die. Pets are nice to visit, but not own) Anya takes the suggested steps, flicking the lights on and off, making deep "Unz unz unz unz" dance-pop noises as the lights strobe.
As the closet pops she commences to fill Nick's bag up more with long-arm barreled weapons and at least a box of ammo.
Sylvie sighs with relief when Nick decides to give the truth. "Yeah. The two guys watched waaaay too many trids about what we do."
"You can come on in if you like, because you're either straight enough shooters to be telling the truth, or you're dumb enough to be walking in here without a good bluff, and either way, that means you're not a threat right now." He tips his hat slightly, and a buzz comes from the door, probably signaling an unlock. "But I'm not sure how much you'll find here. We serve hundreds, if not a thousand or more people, coming here night after night for lights, music, and entertainment. Most of tonight's patrons are already gone. You can look around the open area, but like I said--we're just a club."
Victoria stops in her tracks as she hears the familiar sounds of a back alley fight starting. "The smell of gunpowder and blood. The feeling of bone and flesh breaking under her fists. The pure satisfaction of watching the light leave their eyes..." Her tongue darts over her lips, her fingers twitching toward her concealed firearm. "I'd have the drop on them. I could blow one of their heads off before they know I'm here." A curl of liquid heat blossoms in her chest. "I could crush them. Leave them bleeding at my feet..." She takes a deep breath to calm her racing heart and forces herself not to react. "It's not my problem. It's not my problem, it's not my problem. I've worked on this. I don't need to beat up thugs in an alley to get my jollies." She clenches her fists and keeps walking.
Sylvie nods. "Thanks. And I honestly don't know if we're honest or just idiots." She then walks into the club.
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Did Nate say this guy was an oddball? Cuervo seems as level as a level grinder.'
Anya has no idea what a level grinder is. Or if it even exists.
"Nah. Basic stuff. Wrong time, right place. Someone know's sumpin, gonna sing. We're gonna follow. Day at the office."
Anya briefly considers staying longer and seeing how playful her muse is feeling, but, technically, she's on a job, and even -she- isn't fool enough to put pleasure before business. Mostly.
With a final pet on the puppy she heads out the door to bring her basket of goodies home to grandma.
"You think this is killer ware? Kid, you should have seen what I used to work with back--" Nate starts, before shaking his head. Never mind. Look, if we can find a wireless signal we should be able to hack the security feed for the Stuffer Shack. If we can do that, we can run the guy's face and find his SIN... and from there, we can get an address. If there's anything of that elf that followed you lot along, might be worth it to check him out, too. I doubt we'll find anything but a burner, but it's worth a shot." Nate relaxes as best he can into one of their chairs, before pulling his goggles down over his eyes and turning them on. While he's not working with AR, his body hasn't gone limp; it seems like he must have overridden that safety feature of virtual reality. "Alright, let's see what we can find."
It's also clear the night is mostly finished here. There are still pockets of folks about, mostly a mix of patrons coming down from a night of fun and people who have already crashed, including a troll passed out on a table, with two men in the apparent club uniform--metallic tank tops that flash the logo in multiple colors on the front and back--attempting to move his bulk. The bar is still open, with another employee taking stock of things and wiping down the counters. There isn't a whole lot of audible chatter here, and no obvious leads on where you might investigate--nobody in a suit, for example.
Assuming you head to the bar, the bartender turns and smiles at you. She's a fairly pretty elf, looks to be in her mid-twenties, wearing a club logo t-shirt and her dark green hair in a high ponytail. "Nightowls, huh?" She leans on the counter and rests her chin in her hands. "What can I get you folks?"
As far as the other team, though, there's some trouble there: about a second after the explosion, all video feed cuts out simultaneously. The exact cause isn't immediately apparent just from that, but it's clear the explosion itself wasn't the cause--there's some static when it happens, but the cameras have a clear shot again for several frames before blanking. "Uh, that wasn't us," Joeby says, confused. "I don't think. I mean, I was out when the car blew up. I didn't do that."
"Yo, amateurs," Victoria says as she enters the apartment. "Bad news. Turns out that leaving your car unlocked in a back alley is asking to get jacked. It was long gone by the time I got there."
Sylvie declines the offer of a drink, then sighs and rubs the back of her head. "Look. Two friends of ours got the really dumb idea of trying to get into the 'running scene. Watched too many trids, I think. I don't know how they did it, but they managed to find a-whatsit called, Johnson?-and he told them to meet here with a shady elf and a few of their friends. Now everybody else except my two friends are dead, and I need to find who hired them and find out how I can make it so that Stoobs and his brother don't don't bite it along with the rest. Could you help me and my friend here out?"
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'Sup, b%!#%es," Wraith says nonchalantly as she drops the bag o' guns on the floor. She walks over to the fridge and takes out a can of beverage as if she owned the place. She pops the top and props herself up on the counter. "So, what's shaken?" she asks, taking a pull on the can of awful beer.
As Nix gives the bad news Anya nods. "Yeah, I didn't have high hopes on that. Y'all got any idea where it might be? Either a back up who had keys, or a local chop shop?"
Anya doesn't have high hopes that either Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dumb have any clues in that area. She's just shooting the s&%# until someone comes to spray random lead into the apartment.
-Then- she'll get to have fun.
Either that or she'll drink all their beer. Win-win either way.
Anya has no idea where the Tweedle brothers came from. She just heard it on a trid somewhere and liked the alliteration.
Anya also has no idea that what she likes is called 'alliteration.'
Nix shrugs and. "Don't know, don't care." She walks in and drops down on the nearest reasonably comfortable looking chair. "By the time I got there, the only sign that it was ever there was a stain on the pavement. I'd guess chopshop, but maybe elfy had a friend to clean up the evidence. Depends on what the story behind the run was. But that's really not our problem unless they come knocking."
"Speaking of him having friends, all the footage from the surveillance cameras cuts right after the explosion. These two swear they didn't have anything to do with it, so I'm guessing we've got another player involved; I'd guess they swiped the car, too. As for the other elf we're looking for..." Nathaniel says, zooming in on the man's face. "This is him. I'm going to comb through official records, see if he's got a SIN I can track to find his address."
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That's quite honest, Nicky Nicm. Better smile, order a whiskey and shut up.
The PI smiled and put a distressed look, the one people use when they are deadly ashamed of whatever drek their friend have done that they are now cleaning "A whiskey, triple. Two ice cubes, and we appreciate the help... Stoobie can be a g!$&~!ned idiot from time to time."
Felix Moreau, also known as Mr. Fix-It, collapsed into the downright opulent hotel bed, still fully clothed. Normally, he would care about his suit being rumpled, but the illusion was already covering the bloodstains, tears, and scorch marks, so, honestly, he didn't give a flying f!**.
The flight had been hellish. The pilot was a pervert of the highest degree. Felix had been slapped on the ass seven separate times. Occasionally, he left the cockpit to stare at Felix and make lewd remarks, apparently forgetting that autopilot software only went so far. The landing was more of an organized crash than anything else. The junker didn't even have a minibar!
But what came before was even worse.
Felix didn't want to think about it. So he fell asleep instead.
Stooby raises his hand, cutting off his younger brother. "It's--it's okay. I just... I just need a moment." With that, he staggers off through one of the apartment's few doors, presumably into a bedroom. He's mostly just shaking his head, although there are some dark mutterings mixed in.
When Nathaniel speaks up about finding the elf from the Shack, Joeby perks up a little again, and moves back to assisting him on that. After a minute or so, Nathaniel is able to crack through the basic security and obtain the basic info on his target: a name and an address.
"Yup. Jacked, stolen, gone, however you want to put it. Hope you didn't leave anything important in the trunk." She walks over and peaks over Nathaniel's shoulder. "Find anything useful?"
Nate turns his head to look towards Victoria, but she can't see his eyes through the lenses of his goggles. "Yeah, I've got a name and address... it doesn't look like a fake SIN, either, but that's just a guess. We're looking for a Phineas Madigan, and it doesn't seem like his address is too far from here. We could pay him a visit, if we wanted to. I might wait for the other two to get back before we leave, though. Leaving these two alone doesn't seem smart, considering we've got more players involved than we thought."
"Two or three days ago. Do you recognize these guys?" Sylvie runs down a quick description of Stooby, Joeby, and the mage elf. "There was also a guy in a dark suit and sunglasses, but I doubt that'll be any help to you," Sylvie says drily.
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Anya yawns and stretches. "That sounds super-fantastic. Should we try to catch a nap until they get back? Might could we all just crash here? I'm totes wiped an' I have no idea how the hell Sylvie or that Nick guy rolls once they get out their front door."
*****
Anya giggles. It's a light, sweet sound that always sends shivers up his spine. "What?" Nick says, wondering how ordering a triple whiskey could be so funny. "No, silly, you never just order a drink. You always ask for two ice cubes." "Two? What the f&~# is special about two ice cubes?" "Hee. If you just order a drink, they'll fill the thing full with ice, robbing you of precious booze. Asking for two gives them a standard they have to live up to, giving you a drink you can taste, and it keep the thing just as cold. Or, at least, cold for as long as it takes to drink."
She finishes with salacious wink that hits him in his groin. She must practice those things.
Victoria glances at the clock on her commlink. "Sh*t. Yeah, I could use some rest before we get any more involved in this BS. I'm heading back to my place to to pick up the rest of my kit and catch some Zs. Call me if something comes up." She rattles off her commlink frequency before heading out.
Sylvie's brow furrows at the mention of the strange people in robes. "Not what we were actually looking for, but it sounds like one of them was with Stooby and Joeby. Are any of the bouncers here that were on shift when the weirdoes showed up?"
Sylvie smiles. "Thanks for the tip. I just hope those idiots don't get into more trouble. Or assassinated in the night." The troll barely stifles a yawn, which is of a low enough pitch for Nick to feel the vibrations. "Anyways, it's getting late. Well, later than usual for me. I should probably head home." The bartender an Nick can see a lightbulb go up above Sylvie's head. "Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something!" She smachs her forehead with her massive paw. "The groceries!" Sylvie then, grumbling under her breath, turns towards the door and walks out the Lumen.
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Nick said "Sylvie, wait a moment!" before finishing and paying for his whiskey. Smiling and thanking the bartender for his help, the ex-PI walked up to Sylvie and outside the Lumen.
"I'll head home too." Sarge commented with his melee-happy companion as he produced a cigarette and lighter, which he promptly used "We should all meet there tomorrow at Stoobie's and discuss our findings. I don't like that drekk 'bout damned zealots. Not in the slightest. Anyway, good night Sylvie, don't let the muttroaches bite you."
As his last words drifted in the air, the ex-PI turned back and waved his hand as a farewell. The troubled man disappeared in the dying night, his
smoke merging with the close-to-dawn mist & smoke from the city...
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As Stooby goes into the closet and retrieves the blanket and pillow, Anya smiles. "Okay, great! I'm glad that we'll all have some place to sleep tonight!"
Anya takes Stooby mentioning the bedrooms and grabbing the blanket as him offering his room to her.
She goes into the nearest room (not knowing which is whose) and lays down. She's quickly snoring.