"Yeah, the piece was in my hands, worth a shot. Literally. If you prefer, I've got high explosive fraggers."
"Its up to our racist jerkface in there, after all. I have some duct tape, maybe stick the boomer on his window and he'll start to figure out the problem."
Nomad stows the paperwork and ridiculous typewriter in RR's vehicle, then heads to the SUV and taps on the window. Pulling out his duct tape and pistol, he raises each one as if to give the last guy a choice.
"Dead or alive, your choice, fragstick."
Road-Rage halts as they surround the Escalade and its racist cargo.
Stowing the spray-can he taps another grenade on his mechanic's webbing;
"Got another Hi-Ex boomer here. Frak him up good."
Sun walks up to the vehicle and swiftly unholsters her warhawks and fires both at the window.
Bam!: 4 hits
Ka-Pow!!: 3hits
Warhawk - Acc 8, DV 9P, AP -6,
The Warhawk's bullets pierce the ballistic glass of the windshield with ease, and the bullets clanger inside. The flexiglass, durable as it is, bends and tears significantly. With some elbow grease, it'd probably be easy to remove.
Nomad can see the man's head tilt around, and his lips, still pursed in a smile growing more maniacal by the second, move, as if he's speaking. There seems to be little pause in his speech, however, from whatever muffled snips of sound he can hear from the bulletholes. He seems to shuffle, twisting his torso towards Nomad, as he raises the pistol and duct tape towards him. Sighing, he nods at the door, and steps out, hands pursed together.
"Your threats mean nothing, you poor, misguided man. I remember your voice.", he says in a theatrical voice, the tone indicating that he's expecting a larger audience. Indeed, the commlink on his wrist appears to be active. He takes a step forward, and his stage voice continues. "Trading your blood, your life, your children's future for what? Some moral code? Or simply money, more the like. Selling your soul to your masters for some gruel and a pen." He takes another step forwards. His hands are tucked into his jacket's pocket, though Nomad and Blacksap notice that either one of his hands is considerably larger than the other, or there's something in his right pocket alongside his fist.
He takes another step forwards, his torso turning towards the front of the car, glancing at the hood of the car and Road-Rage's rapidly drying symbol with almost palpable disdain and hatred. He turns back towards the party, and with a mocking expression on his grayed face, raises his hands from his pockets. "So, what will you do now, that you've saved the world from me?"
"Back off, guys. Crazy fraggers got something in that pocket. Dunno what but it cant be good."
Nomad levels his Guardian and pumps a round into the mans knee, intending to disable and knock him down.
edged called shot to kneecap, wound penalties, for 8p, AP -5, potentially stunned, slowed, winded if successful.
Finished with his graffiti, Road-Rage eyes the sneering man exit and spout his diatribe.
At Nomad's warning the hob edges back, shifting toward his Titan;
"Geek him and let's buzz."
Sun turns away from the man in the car and loads up into R-R's truck.
"Let's get out of here...fast!"
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"He's crazy or possessed, I think."
Blacksap switches to the Ares Desert Strike, still loaded with Armor Piercing rounds, and fires.
Samuel jerks to the left, Nomad's bullet scattering onto the floor, as he shakes his head, finally raising his hand from his pockets. "Afraid of a lone man who looks at them. These are our foes, brothers and sisters.", he says, before he turns his hand around, clutching an ancient hand grenade as he leaps towards you. "Remember-", is all he has time to say, before Blacksap's sniper rifle cuts him short, the bullet cutting through the man as if through butter and disappearing inside the wall.
The grenade, a nasty green colour, starts rolling towards you, but you don't wonder whether it's too old to explode, as you leg it as far away from the explosive as possible.
Why didn't I get cyberlegs? At least muscle enhancers...
:
At the sight of the antiquated grenade Road-Rage bolts toward his Titan
The grenade tumbles to the ground, and explodes, the rusty fragments tearing the already beaten up garage to a chaotic mess of shrapnel, blood, splinters and smoke, shrapnel older than the Sixth World biting into Road-Rage, Blacksap and Nomad. With one final bang, though, comes the silence, interrupted only by the chilling wind and the almost vertical rain beating on the concrete.
As everyone leaps into the hobgoblin's truck, though, you realise may've been a little louder than you'd have wanted. Double time might just not cut it now.
Road-Rage flashes a jagged grimace of pain as he boards the Titan.
"Old shrapnel. Hurts like new..."
Strapping himself into the Rigger Cocoon, the hob checks on the crew;
"All aboard? Then buckle up buttercups..."
He inhales as Control Rig and heavy vehicle link... then exhales exhaust fumes, as the flood of plasteel and sensor arrays flood his consciousness.
The Titan rumbles forward, tires gripping the expensive road as the van and cargo scream dramatically away from the carnage.
Inside the cocoon frame Road-Rage's feet warm and tingle as tyres heat up. He smiles calling up the GridLink for the quickest route to KE-free zone...
Nomad takes the blast and almost falls flat. He drags himself into RR's vehicle and flops into a seat before wearily stepping the seatbelt.
"Ugh...fragging grenades...lessgo, chummer."
Janie hauls the wounded Nomad into the van and immediately begins to work on his wounds. She uses the vehicles first aid supplies to aid her in patching up the squad.
"What the frag was that last blast?? Sounded like a cannon going off!"
Blacksap winces as the shrapnel draws blood, but it looks like his jacket absorbed most of the damage. He rushes in R-R's van, sniper rifle out and ready in case he needs to shoot any approaching cars.
"Some museum-grade grenade. Floor it, big guy!"
Glass looks round at the group "Looks like mostly bruises. Let's get the frak out of here before somebody tries to change that."
Bracing against the movement of the van, he'll help Sun with patching the others up.
"So, is this about normal for a run? Or do you guys usually bleed more?"
"Yeah. Bruises and scrapes and stuff...no extra holes I think."
Nomad pats himself down and checks for serious injuries, double checking his bio monitor for anything he missed.
"No, that was a little...messy...Glass. Ideally we would have surprised them and gotten the drop, but that place was more fortress than we figured. Null persp, we got out and the job got done."
"I'd gladly go for burgers, or whatever passes for it around here. Any pursuers, R-R?"
As Road-Rage's Titan screeches off the road, it's clear that the weather is not only not quieting down, it's picking up the pace. A gust of wind smashes into the black pickup as it turns down a corner with force enough to send a smaller car and an autopilot sprawling onto the curb.
Still, in the far distance Road-Rage can see the blue and red lights of the incoming patrol, a couple of blocks away, as he turns the wheels onto 12th Street.
"Head East. Go through Touristville and into Redmond. We can get lost in the shuffle, and the Pawns ain't gonna come in after."
navigation, with wound modifiers 0 hits
Area Knowledge: Seattle, with wound modifiers 0 hits
Laying his head back against the seat, Nomad is glad for the seatbelt as RoadRage takes the vehicle past its intended specs.
"I'll give it a try, Barbie, but all that chrome makes it more difficult"
Glass rubs his hands together than passes them over Wraith's wounds.
Heal, Force 6
- 2 hits, curing 2 points of physical damage, taking 2 combat rounds
Resist 2 points drain
- 1 hit, 1 point stun
:
Road-Rage's voice crackles over the Titan's speaker system;
"Savvy play Nomad. East along Bel-Red, then flat out to Redmond. Might need to drop the hammer to lost them Pawns."
Ford Titan [Van]▸ HANDL: 4/3 SPEED: 5 ACCEL: 1 | BOD: 16 ARMOUR: 11 (14)
Feeling the vehicle power up and surge forward down the street, the hob barks a slightly unhinged laugh as riotous Goblin-Rock spikes the eardrums of all onboard.
:
Speeding down the wider road with the screech of burning tires in his ears, the blue and red lights from behind draw just a little closer. It's obvious that K-E in this part of town aren't usually expecting a chase, given the caliber of the buffer zone between them and Redmond, but they seem to be quickly making way towards you. A pair of stunningly beautiful, 50's style Toyota Elites, complete with KE's insignias on the front grill and the sides rush into sight a block behind you. A megaphone shouts something through the pouring rain and wind, but the weather tears it apart before it reaches your ears.
And, you already know what it's saying, and you aren't buying. The sight of the Pawns in your taillights is enough to bring the gas in your bloodstream to burn everso hotter.
Road-Rage voice cackles over the comms;
"We got company chummers! Taking e-vasive action."
Inside the cocoon he mentally reaches left, then up as the latch signals on the passenger gun-port and roof hatch both slip to "open" green.
"Hatches be open. Anyone fancy a pop at the pawns - have at it."
Done a wee bit of reading on chases. R-R has his Gearhead; Speed Demon and Steely Eyed Wheelman qualities which should all help here... Control Rig gives him +1 Speed and Handling, +1d6 on checks and reduces the threshold of Vehicle Tests by 1 also.
Will note them as they are being factored in.
Btw - did you mean it is a Speed Environment rather than Handling? Open highway would suggest Speed more than off-roading it? :)
Heart pumping and engine roaring the hob feels the rush and attempts to put some room between himself and the gleaming Elites...
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"Oy, chummer, I'm not wounded over there. Although I might be after a few drinks," she winks salaciously at Glass (no matter how far his hands are from her fun parts).
Stretching and enjoying all the not-shot apart that she now is, she perks up as the after-party starts. "Ooo! Noise AND cherries. Mah goodneth, it do be a late houah fo' callahs. But Ah do like tah be a good lady an always have _somethin'_ to offer those beautiful boys in blue that take time to pay me some attention," she says in a passable Southern-belle drawl.
Making sure that she has a new clip in her weapon she accepts the invitation and pops up in whatever hatch she thinks Blacksap -won't- be using (as a professional cutesy to those with a bigger gun.)
"Here's something special. From me. To you." she says, taking aim at the nearest chaser.
= 7 hits
"Keep it up, high guy! Floor it and get us outta here!"
Leadership to aid RR's next roll: leadership-3 wounds
Glass raises a slightly curious eyebrow as Wraith's wounds heal better than he'd expected.
"Like I said, Barbie, all that chrome makes it hard to tell what's you and what isn't"
Blacksap pops out of the roof hatch that Wraith so gently left unoccupied. In contrast to the bullet storm that's pouring out of the other hatch, his Ares Desert Strike fires a single armor-piercing shot towards the engine of the other car that his former employer sent after them.
With her pistols being next to useless in a car chase, Sun sits and tries to keep out of the way of those with long arms. She watches as R-R expertly controls the big vehicle through the streets.
As the Titan zooms across the almost horizontal rain, bullets fly towards the Elites, the beautiful sheen of the pearlescent paint torn away as if by vicious claws. That said, the old beasts aren't just the showpieces of the better neighbourhood, as the first one in tow seems to practically ignore Wraith's bullets and swim through the air like a shark to position itself right next to the Titan, as a bark of machinegun fire launches itself at the black truck, the thud of lead wearing heavily upon the back of the car. Luckily, however, the Ford seems little worse for wear.
Blacksap's bullet, however, is too much even for a police vehicle to take with ease, and the second car stalls for a moment, before gathering momentum and skulking behind the first like a wounded beast.
As the bullets riddle the back the Titan, Road-Rage grimaces feeling the pin-pricks stab into his own back.
He grimaces, the scowls with growing anger;
"Losing my patience with these mooks. Pedal to the metal!"
The music roars in tandem with the Ford's engine as the hob feels the wet tarmac rush under him;
:
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A syllable counter pops in the lower counter of Blacksap's HUD as he subvocalizes an improvised composition. Five seconds later, he spouts three lines.
"Through rapid fire /
Armor soaks up all damage /
A waste of bullets"
While reciting the haiku, he's carefully taking aim for the next shot.
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"Well that's just rude!" Wraith exclaims as the car neither flips over nor bursts into a satisfying ball of flames. "The LEAST you could do is--WHAT? Oh for _him_ you stall out?!? What, are you, like...oooooh. I see what is going on here. All you guys, ah, you "like" the "guys" who have "big "guns" huh? A hawt cH1X0rZ with two great va-va's and one helluva voom ain't gonna "turn" your "crank", eh? Okay, I get I get it.
I just have to try harder."
Never one to make promises and not keep it (except the ones she doesn't really mean) she holds the trigger down and keeps up a steady stream of lead at the lead car.
= 6 hits.
= 6 hits.
Usually when someone says pedal to the metal, often they're on a race track, or on a highway, ready to spend the next hours holding a single lane. Nobody, however, seems to have told Road-Rage that particular social nuance, as the manual emulation of his gas pedal slams down to the maximum, moving his speed-to-condition situation from 'dangerous' to 'completely deranged', the Titan swerving into a side-street at a nearly 90 degree angle through the scarce ongoing traffic. The right side of the car is lifted into the air for a brief moment, as tiremarks are left onto the side of a nearby building, six feet in the air. The Toyotas, beautiful and fast as they are, are left hopelessly in the proverbial dust, with only a couple of bullet marks onto their hoods as a reminder, as the black Titan bobs and weaves through side-streets at insane speeds.
Two minutes of holding onto dear life and dearer lunch later, everyone is excited to see the road widening, the thirty-foot wall prevending the Barrens from spilling its filthy tendrils into Bellevue. The only thing between you and (relative) freedom is a single car, which R-R indicates as waiting for a blockade partner, parked in the middle of the tunnel. The lights atop the guardhouse indicate that the duo inside the car have probably already left it there, lights flashing and all.
Through the Titan's camera's Road-Rage glowers at the vacant Pawn-mobile that fast approaches...
"Trouble ahead. Buckle up... Trying something risky!"
He hammers toward the blockade, then at the last moment attempts to oversteer, allowing the heavy van to drift past the other vehicle;
:
"I won't say dimensions aren't important, Madam. But how you use your tool is what counts the most." replies Blacksap in Wraith's direction, returning to his seat with a smirk.
Continuing his trend of stomach-turning driving, Road-Rage's latest stunt practically sends everyone in the back of the truck buckling up and down as if trying their best to hold onto a rodeo bull's back. Nearly missing the wall of the tunnel in his drift, R-R's truck carries on towards the road towards the Redmond Barrens, the asphalt turning from a neat powered surface to a worn, ragged and dust caked trail in under a hundred yards. Road-Rage's cameras, as well as the crew's eyes can't help but notice the two vicious Assault Cannons on a turret turning towards the Titan, but as soon as they lock on... nothing happens, the massive weapons trailing the black beast of a car as it trails into the fierce rain.
The next five minutes into Redmond are pretty much what is expected. Derelict remains of ancient buildings, battered by the rain, occasionally broken by a thin light emanating from some of the ruins. The difference between Bellevue and the Barrens Outskirts is almost like it's travelling to another world, not another district. The Titan cruises past another seemingly abandoned ancient refuelling station for fossil fuels, a light blinking inside.
As soon as the rush of the chase has worned off, the cogs in your heads turn to realise a simple fact about Knight-Errant. Less gung-ho about civilian casualties, it's entirely possible that the Assault Cannon turrets have ignored you simply because the bullets from the Toyotas were Tracing Rounds, stuck firmly in your back armour.
The Titan's commlink pings with an incoming trid-link request, the name blurred out with only a stylised spider as the icon. Touristville is almost half an hour away in the crossed terrain.
"Good work there, big man. That was some wiz driving, and with a big fragging beast like this, to boot. Glad you're on our side, chummer. "
Nomad lays his head back against the headrest, worn out and beat up from the shootout earlier.
"Man, its gonna cost an arm and a leg to get this suit patched up. I guess better it than my skin, but still...stupid shotguns and stupid shot loads."
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"GET BACK HERE!" Wraith screeches at the swiftly-disappearing sec-cars as the Titan pulls quickly away.
"Gah!" she yells, being unceremoniously dumped back in by an apparent combination of air pressure and increased G-forces.
She spends several minutes trying to get her legs and head in a more proper orientation, only to have her attempts continuously foiled by a lack of wearing a proper seat belt.
Finally attaining a proper sitting position, she lets out a restful sigh and closes her eyes, unconsciously waiting for all internal system to check back Green.
At last convinced that she's not in biological stress...she starts thinking about how to get into some.
"Didn't we have a plan that including eating? How about we do more eating and less getting-shot-at sometime soon?
Ooo! The SDA is having One-Nuyen-Nacho-Night tonight! Srsly, these are some -killer- nachos, O me chummers."
Wraith slams in a fresh clip as a matter of course.
"Driving like that is why I normally walk." Glass pulls himself into a seat. "Nice work, chummer."
He then looks over at Wraith. "Food sounds good."
"Somebody better answer the comm first though"
"Before we go for nachos, you may want to know that those bullets were likely tracers, and if so we're being followed. Smart of K-E, they didn't want a shootout in a civvy zone. Let's lure them, aight?"
Road-Rage nods in grimacing agreement at Blacksap's savvy angle;
"Makes sense..."
The hob's brow furrows at the sniper's plan;
"This the Barren's now omae. They come for us here it won't be with pretty-pretty Elites and tracer rounds. We get it full bore. Maximum bang-bang."
The Titan begins to slow as engages the trid-comms;
"Let's see who wants to chat, then work from there. Maybe you lot bail and I lead them on a chase eh?"