Shadowrun Missions: Chicago (Inactive)

Game Master DaWay

Chasin’ the Wind
Chicago, UCAS

Scene 1: Everyone Comes Knocking
8 January, 2075

What a surprise. It’s snowing in Chicago in January. As the wind howls outside, you thank the runner gods that you’re in a nice warm pub or, even better, in a nice warm bed, and not somewhere running around the Containment Zone for a fistful of nuyen or whatever barter you’d have to scrounge.

Then your commlink flashes the face of your fixer. ”Catch you at a bad time?”

Then again, it is nice to make a living.

Your fixer goes on. ”It’s strange. No sooner does the new mayor announce the reclamation program that the blz starts lining up. I got a job for you, omae, headed into the CZ. Johnson would like to meet in person in two hours. There’s a table reserved at Chicago’s Own Pizzeria in Northside. Watch the slip-n-slide out there, chummer.”

Dot.

Dot indeed

"Two hours, eh? What name's the reservation under?"

*****

Two hours seemed like a decent window, but there was a lot of work to do. Max knew the area the pizzeria was in, but had never been inside this particular one. As he was function-checking his equipment, he had a simple script running to dredge up info on the place from the BBS.

Guns, check.

Whip, check.

Pulling his synthleather clothes on over his graphene weave armor, he set the electrochromatics to some basic wageslave casual, and carried his duffel downstairs to the garage. Unloading it into his hard-shell saddlebags and locking it, he mounted up and rode out, waving to the blatnoi watching the entrance to the parking garage with their Uzi IVs before turning down Devon Avenue with an hour until the meet time.

*****

Pulling up to the place fifteen minutes later, Max circled the block twice, driving slow on the sleet-slick roads before leaving his bike in the parking locker, slotting a credstick to pay for two hour's time.

He knows I don't like this side of town... Max thought to himself.

Max sat down at the place across the street, studying "Chicago's Own" through a frost-rimed window while nursing a soykaf. In case I need it later. At fifteen 'til, Max turned up his collar against the biting wind and trudged over to the pizzeria, dropping the name of the reservation with the host. Following the man to the table, Max scans the room for familiar faces.

"So another job, neh? Do svidanija!"

Checking the location of the meet on his comm, Adrik heads down to the garage to get his bike. He leaves his taser at home, along with most of his other gear, packing only his lock picks. The brisk January weather makes him grin.
Another mild winter in America! My cell at Snezhnogorskaya was colder than this!, he thinks as he drive to the pizzeria.
Once he arrives, he parks, sets the security on his bike, then heads for the restaurant.

Once inside he take a booth at the back, ordering a KafPow and watches the doors.

Liam was sitting alone at a table in Al's bar, leaning back in his chair while idly running a fingertip over the rim of his latest drink.
He always got a little contemplative after a few shots, and the thought of the day was about his current place in the world.

Being awakened was a fairly rare thing, less than perhaps one in 10 000 individuals had some sort of gift, and most of those went unrealized.
Amongst those that did develop any potential, most would end up aspected at best.
Liam himself was gifted with a wellspring of raw potential, some of which had been realized, but much of it remained.

"Always comes down ta' cold hard nuyen don' it, eh Soggy?"
Liam muttered at his bar-tending buddy, not really looking for an answer, and not expecting it either.

The call on the comlink was unexpected, but not unwelcome, anything to break the monotony of the day.

Money? Well, I was just talkin' about th' lack o' it.

Standing up, he reached down to pick up his coat from the back of the chair before slotting Soggy a few extra nuyen.
"Later Soggy." He muttered as he steeped out into the street, cupping his hands in front of his face to light a cigarette.

Gonna be a long night I expect...

Deciding that he had too much to drink to drive, and that arriving a bit early was a good thing, he headed towards the tube, calculating he would be there about 30 minutes early.

Rankev woke with a jolt as his comm's message beep went off. His had flew at the nightstand to snooze it, but for some reason the nightstand wasn't there, and his over-compensation windmilled him out of bed, onto the floor in a tangle of sheets. That anxiety you get when you don't know what time it is hit him, and he started fumbling for his comm--wherever it was. What time is it? I gotta get to work. I'f I'm not there before the uniformed security I'll get an earful from them through lun--.' By then his head had cleared enough of the fog to remind him that the nightstand wasn't where it was because he wasn't where he was. Or, rather, where he was supposed to be. The Ares station he used to work at was a hulking ruin and he was in hiding, because, since he had nothing to do with it, he was the one to blame. Aardvark was generously letting him crash above his shop until he got his feet under him. Which meant finding some nuyen to supplement the almost nothing he currently had.

He took an invigorating swig from the bottle of...something...that was next to the bed and checked the message. 'Well, this would be a bad time, but pizza does sound good right now.'

Dressed and geared in record time, Rankev checks his look in the cracked mirror long enough to hate what he sees, and complete his look with a quick protective spell.

Descending the stares, he sees Angel, Aardvark's teenage daughter, manning the counter. "Good luck," she calls, not looking up from her micro-trid, "And tell Liam I said hoi.'

"Eh," he calls back, impressed with his powers of language at this early (or very reasonable, to some people) hour.

"Liam. Mojo-tosser. Soggy said he might be there. Tell him 'a girl' said hoi. Might cheer him up."

He nodded and pledged to do what he can.

Rankev gets to the pizzaria as early as he can, looking for a street-wise 'mojo-tosser' to say hoi at.

Is there any legwork you would have taken care of before the mission?

There are no AR ads, but Chicago's Own doesn't really need them. The smell of traditional style crust and real meat lures you from blocks away into a pizza-lover's dream: the last real Chicago pizza place. Chicago's Own is a century-old restaurant, but a few additions have been put in place over the years, like bars over the windows, barricaded windows upstairs, and razorwire over the top. The place is literally brick-and-mortar, with a few scorch marks across one side.

When you arrive, you find the table reserved for you, and Ms. Johnson is already there. She is a Hispanic human female in her mid-fifties, dressed in runner style with an armored jacket, dark fatigues, and boots. Her right temple sports two chrome datajacks, and she examines you through obvious cybereyes, deep violet with golden atom symbols in place of pupils.

"Thank you for meeting me. Some of you might know me as Quantum Princess. I have a short job for you. Two Matrix signal repeaters in the CZ are showing signs of failing, and I need you to replace a module in each. I'm offering 4,000 nuyen for the job."

As Liam got on the tube, he lowered his shades a fraction and looked at his reflection in the windows.
Looking a little pale there "Bad wolf", heh, I kill myself...

Leaning back in his seat and slowly sliding into a low slouch, with his feet on the opposite seat, he reflected again on the idea of coming to Chicago to hide.

The biggest thing was the astral flux, which was both a boon and a hindrance.
Yes it made magic more difficult, and that was his main ability, but it also meant that it was a lot less likely for him to be found here.
Why would a spell-slinger go to a place awash in background interference?

He had taken up gunplay ever since he got here, to have something as a backup if things really got drecked up.
What was the alternative, to get all chromed up? Dreck that! He wasn't about to give up his mojo for nuthin'.

A while later he stepped of onto the platform and into the snow again.
Raising the collar of his coat, he looked around and checked his location and the time.
'Bout ten minutes o' walkin' th' do...no big thing...

Sighing a little, he relit the bent cigarette that had been left hanging in the corner of his mouth and started walking.

--------------------10 Minutes later---------------------------------

As he entered the pizza place, it didn't take long to spot the Johnson.
Female, attractive, connected...good start.

"Four large a piece? You've got my interest..."

Liam I seemed to have ninja'd you. Sorry about that.

S' no big thing, if I hadn't been so pretentious with my post I'd have spotted it before I posted haha.
It just took too long for me to write is all.

As Rankev enters the room he eventually finds his way to the table, his mind a blur. 'I'm doing this. I'm actually doing this. I'm on the run, or 'lam' is it called? I'm in a 'joint' ready to do some business, erm, I guess they call it 'biznez' with a...what are they called? Mr. Smith? Mr. Jamison? Jameston? Mr Anderson? Oh no, wait...Johnson. They all call themselves Mr Johnson. Oh, and all these people call themselves 'chummer' all the time. It's wonder they don't just name themselves that, it'd save time. Okay, I've gotta be cold...no, cool...no, chill, or null persp or such drek. Chill but approachable, just like an annual performance review. Oh, there's a guy that looks like he has an established tradiation of magi--erm, ah, is a 'mojo tosser'. Yeah. Right.'

Rankev sits next to Liam. "Hey. I'm supposed to tell you that 'a girl' says hoi. She, ah, she spoke, um, quite highly of you."
'Oh drek, is that even the guy? Bollux, for all I know the seedy underbelly of Chi-town is crawling with practitioners. The bartender and waitress could be 5-th level masters for all I know. No, no they couldn't. If they were then this fork would be cleaner.'

When the Princess speaks up, Rankev answers as best he can. "Mmm, yes, well, although the fee is well below my normal rate for, uh, jobs in the Cee-Zee, in the, ah, interest of good relations with a person of your caliber, Mr Johns--, um, Misses Joh--, no, wait, you said your name. Um, Ms. Princess, then the stated price shall be agreed upon henceforth.
Will, erm, that is to say...do you have the intel on the objects in question with you so that it might be perused as-to-for the greater effection of the execution in question?"

'Good. Great. That was sub-fragging-zero. Be careful she doesn't think you're Sally-fragging-Tsung in the flesh.'

my legwork was scrubbing the BBS, then some like surveillance from across the street before heading in. On BBS i was just looking for any runners that had met there and what they had to say about the venue. Will post in two hours or so, with my response to the johnson

Killjoy you are out of this because you have not posted something that contributes to gameplay. You are still in the game just not the scene that occurred before.

The first node is located at Chicago's Midway Airport, about three kilometers inside the CZ. The second is in Garfield Park, just off I-290, about six kilometers inside the CZ and only about four kilometers from the outer rim of Cermak central.

If we are agreed upon the price here are the nodes.

At this point feel free to Negotiate the price with her. It will be an Opposed Test on Charisma + Negotiation. I am only accepting one spokesperson, though the others my use Teamwork to help.

Quantum Princess Negotiation: 5d6 + 8d6 + 7d6 + 3d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (6, 3, 1, 6, 1) + (5, 5, 3, 5, 2, 3, 5, 3) + (5, 5, 6, 1, 3, 5, 1) + (1, 6, 6) + (4, 1) = 92 12 hits

price negotiation TEAMWORK: 3d6 ⇒ (4, 2, 6) = 12 - 1 hit: +1 to leader's limit, +1 to leader's dice pool

GM, what kind of isses can we expect getting in the CZ? A big wall, corps/nation checkpoints or somesuch? I don't want to ask her questions to something we would already know.

Max, seeing the table the Johnson is at, pulls up a chair facing the kitchen. Looking around the place and noting some familiar runners, he nods to those he recognizes.

I wonder if they're here for the same run or if this place is just a happening spot with the new reclamation program.

***

As Quantum Princess talks, Max pulls up his mapsoft to follow along with the details she is providing and to mark the location of their goals appropriately.

"Do you have any more specifics about where, precisely, the repeaters are at in these two locations? The park and the airport are big areas, the latter I am sure is just filled with things that look like signal repeaters."

A big wall, downtrodden, Ares/Lone Star with check points, Sprawl Gangers, Bugs

Right, good point. At Midway it's in the control tower but as far as the park goes, you know how those wageslaves love their nature, as long as it doesn't interfere with their sprawl. I'd look for something inconspicuous like a fake tree or something.

Killjoy, who had been silent up this point, leans forward. "Makes sense. Nodes in the CZ have probably gone untouched for decades. The tech must be ancient." The ork bites his tongue on the next part. Who is Quantum Princess and why was she interested in repairing Matrix infrastructure in the CZ? Those were questions he could answer later.

Killjoy was slighter than the average ork, with small tusks. He was practically human-like, although not so much that the average viewer would mistake him for the genuine article. His light green-grey skin is covered in tattoos that mark his Aztec heritage. He wears an armored coat over a bright yellow Shield Wall shirt (vintage, of course), black utility pants, and a set of brown working boots. His right arm is bright chrome and loaded with tech, including his prized possession, a modded Microtronica Azteca 300.

Once his questions are answered to his satisfaction, he focuses on the buzzing AR of his custom contact lenses and begins to search for any information on Quantum Princess he can find.

Negotiation wasn't his strong suit.

After listening to the deal and the payment, Rick shakes his head.

"Seems too little for such a job. Maybe you can sweeten the pot a bit, my dear Princess? After all, such a dangerous undertaking needs to be compensated correctly...we are not simple thugs, now are we?"

Price Negotiation Teamwork: 5d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 5, 1, 2) = 18 - 3 successes. +3 to Leader's Dice Pool

Logic + Knowledge: Shadowrunning: 3d6 + 6d6 ⇒ (3, 4, 3) + (6, 6, 5, 2, 2, 5) = 36 =4 hits to see what I know about Quantum Princess here. She seems a little too eccentric for a Johnson, so I am thinking Runner-gone-Johnson.

Those looking at Max saw a mostly normal human, looking well-worn for someone just shy of 30. The discerning eye could catch hints of some relatively high-grade bioware, and eyes that were just a little too perfect suggested cyberware as well, not to mention a datajack at the hairline behind the right ear. His clothes, like any no-drek runner worth his salt, valued function over form. The electrochromatic alterations, while ostensibly for presentation, were actually a (currently) turned-down camouflage.

Rankev desperately wanted to add to the conversation, but was already nervous about appearing the fool, so he didn't want to open his mouth more and remove all doubt.

Instead, he did what he usually did when in doubt: Kept quite and retreated into the vast reserves of his copious knowledge. Perhaps he could fill some of the holes that the Johnson Princess was leaving out?

1) Knowledge check to see if he knows anything about either area the nodes are in: Knowledge-Chicago: 7d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 6, 5, 2, 1, 6) = 32 = 5 hits
2) Knowledge check to see if he knows what gangs currently call that territory their own:
Knowledge-gangs: 6d6 ⇒ (6, 2, 3, 6, 5, 2) = 24 = 3 hits
3) Knowledge check on the security set up around the CZ. i.e. How easy is it to just drive past? How easy would it be to just go over the wall?
Knowledge-Security Design: 7d6 ⇒ (4, 2, 5, 5, 5, 4, 3) = 28 = 3 hits
4) The Quantum Princess seems pretty certain we should know her. Is she known on the business circles?
Knowledge-Business: 8d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 3, 5, 2, 4, 6, 1) = 31 = 3 hits

The game gave me these knowledge things, so I figure I may as well try them on, see how they feel. =)

As the dwarf sits down, Liam raises an eyebrow.
I think he's kinda new a' this...might as well mess with 'im a little...

"Ah, you got biz with "that girl" do ya chummer? Best be careful, don't forget the golden rules of the biz.
Shoot straight, conserve ammo, and never ever cut a deal with a dragon..."

Feeling a smirk coming on, Liam hides it behind his hand as he takes another drag on his cigarette.

As the others negotiated and asked questions, Liam leaned back in his chair, running a hand over his shaved head, briefly fingering the snarling wolf tattoo on his scalp.

I wonder if I should do a little astral perceiving on the people here? Might be wards, this IS a successful place after all.

It should be noted that only one person may add to the teamwork, that being said there is nothing saying that someone can help the helper to the leader.

Don't let my number of hits deter you, I am limited by her Social Limit score, I'm just not saying what it is.

Since no one has negotiated with her, I am moving on.

She simply states at Adriks statement, No, it is simply a maintenance run, four thousand each will do fine. Besides I can always find more reasonable runners for a simple errand.

I need to know how you are going to get there, slipping past a check point or all nice and legal like. How many cars? Who is in what car? Who's driving? Where are you going first? Any stops along the way?

It is snowing heavily in the Windy City, so drivers I am going to need a drive check -3 dice due to the conditions.

"Right, four large it is, hand th' nodes o'er an' the contact information you want us ta use when th' job's done.
I'm assumin' there is a pretty short time-frame for the job eh?"

--------------------------------After the client has left----------------

"Awright, I've seen most o' you guys around before, but let's just cover th' formalities anyway.
On th' streets I'm known as "Bad wolf", nice to be workin' with ya.
So, how you wanna play this un' chummers?"

"Names Rick...infiltration and kick artist. Guess we should decide how to get there. Anyone got a car?"

"Hoi, uh, chummers. I am...Power! I have degrees of Thamatalogical Manipulation and Arcane Refinement from the Texas Institute of Technology and Magic. I do admit that I am newly come to the profession of dark-walking, erm, ah, shadowrunning, yes, but I have extensive private sector experience in both prioritization of assets and monetization of logistical goals. And...and security layouts. I know about those too.
Um, yes, I concede that I am currently without transport and would need to, uh, bum a ride, as it were.

With that said, I am equipped and need no special diversion. Shall we go straight there, or do any of you chummers need to hit a resupply afore the task at hand?"

'Ugh. I gotta remember that I'm not talking to Sec-U about the current TPS report.'

is 4000 approximately what one would consider "normal" for such a job?

"They call me 3yeZ (pronounced Eyes). I do shooting, cutting, sneaking, and of course seeing things. I've got a bike but no room on the back for pedestrians. If one of you has a bigger car i can stash my bike at home on the way to the park."

Thinking a moment, he adds, "though, anyone know a hole in the perimeter big enough for a car?"

It is actually a little high for such little work.

"My Jackrabbit is parked over there," Killjoy gestures. "But I don't think you all will fit."

"I'm Killjoy, by the way. Decker and Matrix warrior for hire." He flashes a tusky grin and extends his hand to whoever will take it. "Any chance I could check out one of the nodes our Ms. Johnson gave us?"

Killjoy, I need a roll in order to know how much information to dispense to you.

Max will shake the decker's hand and look to the others.

"So, you can keep us covered over the net and 'Power' here can keep us covered on the astral, I hope?" he asks, looking for a response. "Rick and I can do some snoopin' and poopin', and BadWolf... Sorry, I've heard the name around, but I forget what your skillset is."

The wolf grins a little and runs a hand over his scalp.
"Mojo is my game, I got spells for healin' and spells for hurtin', and even spells for protectin'.
And I'm also damned good at reading auras."

"You know, on the face of it, this all sounds like a milk run, an' that makes me suspicious.
We should probably keep an eye out as we go, eh chummers?"

"agreed. Something like this has a lot of variables. We have to get over or through the perimeter, preferably with vehicles because it is about eight or nine miles between the two objectives. A lot can go wrong in that distance, not to mention finding the needle in the haystack at the airport."

"I like the way you think Wolf! It does seem a little too smooth...and that usually means there is something we are not being told!"

Rick looks over to 3yeZ, giving him a once over and nods.

"Yeah, we should be able to get in and out without too much trouble...just make sure the rest of you are close by. Like Wolf said, this looks too easy!"

Rick will ride his bike to the location chosen.

"Hah! My old fixer told me that there are two rules for dealing with a Johnson.
One, everybody low-balls and Two, everybody lies.
He also said "Oh god, please! I didn't mean to sell you out, please don't...", but that's another story completely."

Despite himself Rankven chuckles at Liam's non-sequiter. To the rest of the conversation he listens in rapt attention. 'Really? Johnsons always lie? How would that establish a forward-thinking employer/employee relationship? What would only impede team-unity and mutual symbiosis.' He shakes his head. This 'shadows' thing is very complicated.

"Hmm, yes, well, if we are in agreement, shall we gather our party and venture forth? And, yes, good Killjoy, Decker and Matrix Warrior, I believe I'll take you up on your jackrabbit."

Rankev makes to rise, "Shall we?"

"Looks like i'm taking my bike then, unless anyone has a van. I'm gonna look on my mapsoft for any openings."

Legwork on Quantum Princess (Computer+Logic): 11d6 ⇒ (1, 3, 4, 2, 6, 6, 1, 5, 1, 3, 6) = 38 = 4 hits

If Killjoy gets to look at one of the nodes (checking for any hardware piggybacking on the node) Hardware+Logic: 11d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 2, 6, 1, 6, 3) = 41 = 5 hits

"So that's the plan for now?" Killjoy asks. "We're just caravaning over there?

finding holes in the wall is no problem. There are more holes in the security for the CZ than swiss cheese.

I am still waiting for everyone driving to make their rolls and where you are going first.

As Wolf leans back in Killjoy's car, thankfully not smoking in someone elses car, he muses a little, sending his thoughts out through the comlink.

"I've been thinking, th' way I see it, Ms Johnson could be one o' three things.
Corp, civic servant or private contractor.
If it's corp, then it might make some sense using us, plausible deniability for not having fixed those nodes a long time ago.
Civic servant, mmm, that's a bit tougher, you could score a lot of points doing that openly, and using the city's people.
Private contractor, then it's someone who WANTS something.
Clearing up the signal might help them make a quick entry somewhere and get away with a bunch of nice paydata."

"If it's corp, we better watch our asses when we go to claim the pay, if they need this done quietly, we are the only witnesses after all."

"By the way, let's hit the airport first, more people there, so I rather get that done first, then we can spend whatever time we need looking for a "fake tree" eh?"

Power nods as Killjoy speaks. "Yes, that is the plan. Let us all take our respective transport and head to the park first.

Shall we be off?"

Power concedes to Liam's insistence to head to the airport first.

Power joins Liam in Killjoy's car.

Killjoy, Adrik, 3eyZ all need to make the Vehicle Skill + Reaction [Handling] test to avoid crashing, -3 visibility modifier, and if you are driving faster than the vehicles walking speed an additional -2

-3? Brutal. I went from Reaction 6 to a pool of 2. XD

Anybody have a better pool than that? I'd hate to crash my car in the first time out.

Sorry man, I'm no better than you.

Driving my bike...have an 8 pool..now a 5, I suppose...yikes, did not realize it was that bad out!!

Handling: 5d6 ⇒ (1, 3, 5, 2, 5) = 16 - 2 successes

driving 1 + handling 5 visibility-3: 3d6 ⇒ (6, 1, 3) = 10 1 hit

You two are good, Killjoy you've posted since I've made the request. I am now making it for you.

2d6 ⇒ (1, 5) = 6 1 hit with a glitch.

Adrik and 3yeZ prove that maybe it is safe to drive a bike in the snow. Despite Rick's earlier play about how it was a mild winter.

Killjoy manages to make it with the group, but scratches a couple cares around the way, certainly his and his passengers nerves are fried at this point.

So this is why they call Chicago the Windy City. The wind blasts your vehicle every minute or so, and even when it’s not gusting you can still feel the constant movement of air. The snow is still falling, being blown about, and in general piling up where it most easily gets in the way. The best part about the snow is that there’s enough on the ground to fill in most of the potholes, but that’s little comfort because it means you’re driving on ice as much as pavement.

From blocks away you can see the CZ wall, a two-story barricade of rubble topped with razorwire. It’s not so much a wall as the ruins of entire city blocks that were leveled to provide building materials. Guard towers stick out of the wall every hundred meters or so, watching into the CZ. The gates hang partway open, and the guard towers are dark, a sign of the reopening of the Zone. If you thought the civilized parts of Chicago were run down, inside the wall gives a bad name to war zones. Occasionally, what passes for a road ends in an overturned skyscraper, a testament to the lack of maintenance and the wholesale destruction that seem commonplace inside the Zone.

Officially, Midway Airport has been shut down for years because it fell inside the Containment Zone. These days, its pock-marked runways still prevent any air travel other than VTOL flights, and mostly it’s business of the illegitimate kind that runs through Midway. The snow appears to have shut down the airport; a few building lights are on, but aside from the wind there’s an eerie silence that tells you that there are no flights today.

Your destination, the control tower, is dark. However, you can make out two human-sized silhouettes flanking the door, holding assault rifles.

"Hmmm, looks there is a risk o' combat after all, and with the weather this bad, maybe four large wasn't unreasonable after all..."

"Might be an alternative way in, but there might be guards inside as well."

Switching to thermographic vision, Rick examines the two figures to mark their movements and see if there is a pattern to their patroling, or if they are staying close to the warm tower.

Group: is there anyone who cannot communicate mentally with technology? I'd ask in discussion but i am not concerned with answers from the other group and dont want to be confused. I am still getting the hang of tech in this game, but I have cyber eyes and connection to the net, so I figure we should all be able to securely chat on some kind of app, via text (therefore silent, robust, and instant) as functionally as telepathy in a fantasy game. Am I correct in thinking this?

Once the group "circles the wagons" as it were, 3yeZ joins Rick in scoping the place out with cybereyes after setting his electrochromatics to urban camouflage using hexcodes of the colors present near him. He will zoom in and look for thermal signatures as well. In addition, he will try to listen in from a distance with his audio-enhancement and sound filters, for voice and radio comms. He also looks for an alternate way to sneak in.

perception 3 + intuition 4 + cybereyes+ears 3: 10d6 ⇒ (5, 5, 5, 5, 4, 5, 4, 1, 5, 2) = 41 = 6 hits but mental limit is 5 (i assume dice pool modifier does not also apply to this). sight and sound are both at the same rating so i rolled one check, let me know if you want separate checks instead.