Jace turns to face the speedster. "Without exploding into a pile of biomass and chems, yes." The grin on his face is either psychotic or genuine, but it is difficult to tell the difference as they reach the gates.
"doun no nuthin bout that, but ifn you like to run, you should run. Would it help if I ran backwards or hopped on one leg?"
"That kid might be a problem." Deloso muses aloud, though mostly to himself.
To K8: "We'll ask at the gate. They probably have some kind of 'Borg protocol in place. Even if it is as simple as 'if they make any kind of trouble, KOS'."
The approach to the city is clearer than the path through the woods, with something approaching a packed earth road as you start to enter the slums at the edge of the city. The town isn't huge, but it is still large for a Rifts era city.
The buildings of the slums are a mix of wood from the forests, mud brick, to sheet metal and chunks of what might have once been mecha or vehicles worked in. The people you see look similar, with a bizarre array of clothing made from everything from homespun wool, to plastics, to leather, rubber, and metal. Most of the folks out here appear to be human, or the more common Rifts D-Bees like Fennodi and Grackle Tooth. Mercs walk the street with beggars, tradesman, and less reputable looking folks, but nobody looks well fed.
A few city patrols walk by as your vehicle moves slowly along the roadway, and animal drawn carts and old combustion engine vehicles clog the area just as frequently as the people. The patrol members look alert, better fed by far than the folks around them, and their armour not only matches but is as well maintained as any Dead Boy or Tomorrow Legionaire. Each group you see go by seems to have at least one juicer. One group you glance has a man so swollen with muscle his shoulders look more than four feet across, and a neck so far submerged into the muscles upon muscles that you are sure he must be compleatly unable to turn his head. A Juicer rig sits front and center on his chest, and massive weapons sit slung across his back.
The two speedsters scouting ahead draw some looks, and even a few reaching for an unseen weapon before they realize the pair aren't coming towards them, but once they hit the crowds of the slums, they are unable to make much progress. The ATV slowly catches up, until it settles into a spot about 30 yards back from the two, moving towards the gate at the same slow walking pace.
The gate itself sits set into the city's walls, an odd juxtaposition of old style and new, with massive stone slabs, likely quarried from nearby, sections of reinforced concrete, and metal reinforced components possibly concealing hidden weapons or access points, or perhaps just reinforcing sections of the wall that have become weaker or more fragmented. All in all, it looks well maintained, and while probably not up to the task of repelling an organized army with heavy weapons, it would easily manage to keep out any bands of raiders, small militias, or Rift spawned beast.
The blast doors are presently open, and a few squads of troops man the post, checking ID's, receiving restricted weapons for the appropriate check tickets, and searching carts and vehicles for whatever the soldiers are tasked with keeping out. A juicer that appears to be dozing sits atop the wall in the seat of a heavy railgun mounted in that position.
Your group may either join the line to enter the city, or if they'd rather, they can stop to check out the slums for a bit, or make any plans needed before entering the city.
Jace looks bewildered at the sight of the large city, as if he'd seen it before, but it was some how different. "Hmm. The kind of Juicer we're looking for isn't legal. We should probably start asking around the outskirts before going in there. "
"Anyone know how to talk to people to get information from them, to see if anyone's heard of a Dragon Juicer hereabouts?"
"I'd be happy to ask around, buy a few drinks. Assuming you guys tag along" He looks at Hyperkenetic and Androval. "Well most of you tag along, with maybe some waiting outside the bar"
on the way out of the second bar 'Thumper' stops at a vendor and buys a cheap plastic poncho, he hands it to hyperkenetic. "Kid, you are making a scene"
Androva leaves the rifle in the "car," taking her laser pistol, sword (is a psi-sword a physical object or manifested as needed?), and squirt gun. She leads the way into the bar.
"Capes ain't all that helpful, but ifn it makes you happy." says Hyperkinetic as he puts on the poncho.
"So, what do you guys think is the best approach - ask the local government to arrest him, or just take him quietly out of the area?"
Jace shakes his head. "Too much red tape for all that nonsense. We get him to come outside the wire and we take him home. No fuss, no muss. "
The team heads into a local watering hole near the city gate, but still technically out in the slums. Another of those truly mammoth over-muscled juicers stands to one side of the door, leaning on the long handle of a "Thunderer" Combat Hammer, evidently standing by in case the establishment needs some muscle to clear out local colour.
The group grabs a table out on the bar floor, while Thumper heads to the bar to work a few of the patrons. A one eyes man sidles up to the table while you're still getting seated, and quickly scans the group with very one very sharp looking eye.
"Eh. Wat'll it be?"
His gaze hovers over Hyperkinetic for a split second longer than the rest of the group, but, since there is not exactly a legal drinking age here, if you let him drink, chances are he won't comment one way or the other.
It doesn't take Thumper long to get the info you're after, as apparently it's not that secret, though the gent that tells him gets a a sour look on his face as though he dislikes being forced to talk about it.
"Only one joint that does that particular kind of chop-job. The Magic guild, up in the city proper. Work out of a place called the Monolithe. Big stone slab 'bout a block from the plaza. I got nothing against magic types, my sister's a 'Walker, but the guild pretty much go out of their way to come off creepy. Story goes, the inside never looks the same on any two visits, but you'll only see it if the doorman even bothers to let you in. Bloke looks human, but is anything but. While back a feller decided he didn't like be kept out and tried to press the point. They cleaned him up in percentages."
"Don't get me wrong, gettin' Juiced ain't all bad, but if you're looking to burn all your go in one sittin', you're much better off checking out K-E-C. That's the Kingsdale Enhancement Clinic. Best body docs on the continent. They did my nephew, and he tore it up, till he got pulped o'course. Juice, head-screwed, chop and stitch, whatever you need, they'll do it, good as anyone. Tell em Teddy sent you. Won't get you nothin' but if enough people mention me, maybe they'll give me a discount, right? Thanks for the brew chum."
Jace waits for Thumper to return with the information, waving off the bartender. "Sounds to me like the Magic Guild might be in league with our guy. Remember the Walker I gutted when we first met them?"
"Ya'll have zumbvies here?" asks Hyperkinetic, who seems really excited about the prospect for some reason.
"Kid, we have everything here"
After reporting his findings to the team. He looks to the Burster, "What is the play bossman?
"Let's take it slow." he says, and keeps talking over any objects Ace or Hyper might begin
"Find a place to stay in the city, see if maybe we can get inside this place on invite. If that doesn't work, let's try to blend in for a bit and see what we can learn. Somebody's bound to come and go from in there on the regular, cleaning crew or food delivery maybe. I don't see a cabal of secretive, arrogant mages doing menial labor."
"We should also see about asking around for more general inquiries. Who knows, maybe there's an outside chance this Magic Guild isn't involved."
"Gawt it. We should go question some suspects." Hyperkinetic starts looking around for any sort of thuggish guy he can find.
Jace, sensing Hyper's naivete, follows along, keeping an eye on his back and anyone that might want to stab it.
Androva likewise keeps her eyes open for anything unusual but sees very little.
The group is finishing their drinks, talking quietly about strategies and such, and lounging back to observe the comings and goings of a slum dive bar in the late morning.
= Tuesday, June 7, 110 PA.
A few more patrons seem to be coming in, mostly those interested in a cheap lunch. Most look like the other slum-trash and mercs you saw outside; not immediately dangerous, but deffinately untrustworthy in appearance, and to a man, well armed. This establishment doesn't seem to have any issue with armed men and alcohol being in the same place, but given that fact, the room does have a surprising lack of blast marks.
Just around noon, one gent comes in that catches your eye. A full conversion combat Borg. His set up and armour plating look rather familiar to anyone that saw him at the shootout at the ridge; the Borg companion to the Hide armoured Juicer.
"Hey Grease, your usual?" the guys behind the bar greets him.
"Ya, and give me a Power Surge, and a teflon chaser."
The Borg moves to the bar, and sits in one of the hydrolic reinforced stools apparently intended for Borges, and other super dense patrons. The room isn't that crowded at present, but once he gets to his seat, the conversation lowers in volume. They're not acting secretive, just no longer shouting across the room. Anyone that moved the the bar to be close, could probably overhear them, or if their hearing was good enough they might be able to pick their voices out from among the others in the room.
Proprietor: "Didnt you just get out of the shop? Ain't it a bit soon to start grinding your gears already?"
"Life is short."
Proprietor: "Not for a full body job, at least not usually. Besides, you end up spending half your income on new servos."
"Eh, I like the edge. Besides, money ain't everything."
Proprietor: "Sounds like that new friend of yours is rubbing off on you. You used to plan for the long term."
"Everything changes."
Proprietor: "True dat. I'll grab your slop."
The bartender fixes a drink for the Borg, something that seems to include motor oil and drops from a few bottles with skull symbols on them, and then fills up a shot glass with a liquid teflon lubricant. He dips back into the kitchen only to come out with a rather comically undersized meal, with tiny portions of food, designed to maintain the borg's organic systems. The Borg downs both drinks in quick succession, the second one seeming to offset a rather painful sensation set off by the first. After that, he picks up a tiny fork in his massive augmented arm and starts picking at his meal cubes.
"Yur world's purty neet. You gots robots and cyborgs sittin in a bah." remarks Hyperkinetic of the scene before them.
"You know what kid, you have an interesting outlook. Do you know anything about tailing someone?
"Nawt on foot so much, but I kan keep pace wit almost any cahr."
Jace shakes his head. "Quick in the foot, not so much in the head. " He then smiles a joking grin as he listens intently to the machine man.
'Thumper' begins to use the items on the table to make a generic crude map of a street.
"This bottle cap is your target, this salinizer is you, as your target moves down the street" 'Thumper' moves the cap down his "street". He looks up a Hyperkenetic.
"Are you even listening to me?"
K8 crushes a bottle in his hand with no concern for whether it contains a beverage. He tosses a green chip of glass onto the table.
"Thumper, I want to be the piece of glass. Put me on the street, being casual like. No, excuse me, I've gotta see a man about an arse-whooping..."
At that he stands up, his chair screeching across the floor. It is hard to read the expression of a cyborg face, but his four arms swing into an offensive orientation, locking s-foils into attack position, or something like that.
"Nawt Jus you, but ya, I get it."
"I'll be quick, I know you can follow. he nerviously watched 'Kate'.
he moves the bottle cap slowly down the street with one hand wile the salt shaker leap frogs forward and back on side streets.
"What I am saying is, I think you could be a really hard tail to spot"
"Aight, I kan do tha'."
Boomer keeps his eyes on K-8, ready to intervene if it looks like he's going to do something...unwise.
As K-842 jumps to his feet, a few of the patrons in the place startle at the quick motion, and regardless almost everyone in the place looks at him and his companions, in order to see if something is about to happen. One or two place hands on holsters, or inside of jackets, but at least no one takes a shoot first, questions later approach, though possibly because most are carrying only handguns, and none of those are likely to be able to actually hurt a Combat Borg.
The owner talking to "Grease" locks his eyes on K8, and for some reason the massive Titan Juicer you saw out front chooses that exact moment to mosey in through the door and look around, that massive war hammer held almost negligently over one shoulder.
Of the entire population of the bar, about the only person that doesn't move is Grease. He continues absently picking at his food cubes, though mostly just pushing them around his plate.
Arsenio hastily moves forward and grabs K8's elbow (though he has no hope of outmuscling the 'Borg).
"Let's not start trouble here, all right? He's not our mission."
Jace tails Doloso. "Maybe not, but he can lead us right to him."
Boomer grabs K-8's other arm and says in reply to Jace "Yeah, maybe, but how're you going to get him to tell us? And do you really want to start a fight in here, where *everyone's* armed?"
Jace grins. "No fight, he is alone. He will not want to start a fight and will want to talk. Not everyone in here is his ally."
"Ya'll never been in a bawr befor?" says Hyperkinetic as he chuckles.
"What on earth makes you think he'll want to talk instead of fight???" Boomer says incredulously/exasperatedly. "And just because not everyone here is his friend, *doesn't* mean they won't be shooting at us anyway!"
Jace looks back as they walk. "Because the bartender is his friend and he wouldn't want to mess up his friend's place."
"No place with a bouncer that f+!%ing enormous is going to be any stranger to a bar brawl." says an exasperated Arsenio.
Androva takes a draw of water and brushes back her hair. "Sit down," she advises the 'Borg. "Using our eyes and ears, and perhaps our words will serve us better here than our muscle."
K-8 doesn't fight against the hands of his team mates, but he can't help challenging the other Borg. "GREASE! Is that your name! Maybe you want to finish what we started. My friends here are reluctant to trash the place. You wanna step outside?"
With four arms and four hands, K-842 can make a higher than average number of insulting gestures all at the same time.
Grease finishes his food cubes, and then holds out his cred chip to the owner to get debited. The owner doesn't seem to notice at first, his eyes focused more on the group trying to restrain the apparent rival cyborg. After a second, he slashes a hand through the air.
"On me, Grease. You have a quiet day. You hear?"
Grease stands up, and slowly turns to face K8, either really not in a hurry to go anywhere, or intentionally drawing out his departure just to irritate you.
He looks at K8, and just points a finger, casually, "Hey, Tinhead, was bummed I didn't get to try out Debby on you; your plating looked about the same as mine, so I was hoping to see how well it fared against AP Frags. Ah, maybe next time, if there is one. Personally, I don't carry grudges; what happens in the field stays in the field. Makes life easier in this business. Next time we could end up on the same side, right? Besides, thanks to that crew of yours we only had to split the profits three ways instead of eight. I made a mint, which bought me more than a couple neat little toys, let me tell you. You come up against me again, you'll get to see them. Briefly. Until then, enjoy the town. Gill, give him a Power Surge, on me. It'll put hair on any meat you have left."
With that, he turns from the restrained borg, and walks out the front. The Titan Juicer steps smoothly out of his way to let him by, but then kinda nonchalantly drifts back into the doorway, making sure anyone that tries to chase their departing patron would be delayed getting past him.
'Thumper' with a subtle nod slides the salt shaker towards Hyperkenetic.
Hyperkinetic gives him a 10 count then says loudly "This place sux!" before storming out.
Once outside, He'll find Grease and then move to start following him, sticking to the side streets as Thumper suggested.
Hyperkinetic has no trouble weaving around the Juicer/bouncer lounging in the door, and trailing after the Borg knicknamed 'Grease.' He exits the bar, and basically just crosses the street into the city access gate. Being a local, he merely scans a barcode on his wrist and stands still for a quick automated scan, before proceeding into the city.
Having a quick look around, Hyper sees a long line of travelers queued up, and waiting for their turn to enter the city. For them, the inspection is done by soldiers, who ask questions, and scan the subject and their vehicles far more thoroughly.
To keep following Grease, Hyperkinetic has the quick decision to make to give up the chase and head back to his companions, or to use his speed to bypass the checkpoint (which would probably be pretty easy), and enter the city illegally. Given their rather tough stance on crime, the penalty for doing so is anyone's guess.
**********************
Back in the bar, the Juicer looks around for a second, a little bewildered how the little guy moved quite so fast (and it is a juicer thinking that). At a nod from the owner, he gives the group a little bit of a glare that says he hopes he gets called back in, but then heads back outside to his post.
The owner heads over to the group's table with the bill, and asks, "You planning on hassling any other paying customers? If the answer is yes, you can leave now, and never bother to come back. If you decide to stay, I'll remind you to act polite. If you please."
With that, he turns and heads back to the bar to tend to the growing lunch crowd.