Salvo snaps his flip phone closed. (He still preferred the older, more rugged tech).
”Okay, I informed my contacts in the local Hunters group about Vamp-guy. They will keep a lookout for him.’
Looking over the loot from the Vamp lair He begins to sort it.
”Okay after selling or trading all the junk and various stolen booty we all got a nice chunk of change.” pointing to the four stacks of Reals (Brazilian dollars).
”Now, of the rest there are a few items of interest. According to Hibo these.” Pointing to the AK, the sword, the bottles of red liquid, and the necklace. ”Are extra special. As in extra naturally special. And finally we got a big load of ammo.”
Moving along the table he stops next to the LMG, picking the battered
weapon. ”Oh and this old girl. If I clean her up a little she’ll give a few more years of service.”.
Looking at the group. ”So, who wants what? I can make use of both the sword and AK. But I don’t want be greedy.”
Faith will look at the potions and the pendant. She will leave the weapons to Hibo or others.
Stringer shakes his head and gestures at Salvo and Faith. "Gun and sword seem like you guys should split them up between you." He glances at Hibo. "Do you have any idea what the necklace or those red vials do?"
"Regardless, a front assault on Joao Carlo's doesn't seem like a good idea. We should do some recon on the place first- net research, maybe spotting from a drone or a building with line of sight- to get an idea of when its busiest, who's there, that kind of stuff. But how do we want to try to get in there? To me, it seems like the only two options are sneak in or talk to them. But both have problems. What do you guys think?"
Hibo examined each item in turn, focusing his vision to look beyond the ordinary for any auras encompassing the items they had recovered.
"Gathering intelligence would be wise before we attempt either. Perhaps we can talk to some of the locals, or check with the property office for schematics? I am not very familiar with the regulations of this country."
Stringer is surprised to find absolutely no trace at all of Joao Carlo's anywhere online. No webpage, no presence on social media, not even any reviews anywhere. Even trolling the unindexed "dark web" provides no insight.
The place does appear on navigation, however, and it seems to be situated in a strip mall in a neighborhood that has seen better days, but is far more upscale than where the group has been staying the last few days. The shopping center is only about half-occupied, with no large anchor store. Both of the storefronts beside Joao Carlo's are empty. The parking lot is barely filled. Most vehicles that are parked there are nearest Joao Carlo's.
Those vehicles are mostly a mix of unremarkable, boring sedans covered in dents, scratches, and rust. A gleaming Mercedes Benz stands out among the handful of cars.
Snoop sets up shop on the roof of an apartment building across the street and goes into low power mode, passively recording the comings and goings. Almost all of the patrons look to be either classically rough-and-ready bruisers, or cheap thugs in expensive suits. Snoop registers typical electronic communications in it's sniffer program. Random cell traffic, mostly.
As the sun sets, the atmosphere around the restaurant slowly changes to a rowdier, lower-class crowd. The mobster sedans disperse. Eventually, all the daytime customers have left except for the owner of the Mercedes. The lights go off, and the hanging "Come in, we're open!" sign is flipped to, "Sorry! We're closed!" and two men exit.
Both men are middle-aged, but that's where the similarities end. One is short, with a balding pate and skin bronzed by both birth and the tropical sun. He wears blocky sunglasses and a wrinkled button-down shirt under a greasy apron. The other man is much taller, very physically fit, white man with perfectly coiffed blonde hair that is graying on the sides. He wears an expertly tailored gray suit. They walk to the luxury car and the short man gets into the driver's seat as the taller one walks to the rear door. He stops for a moment and gazes slowly across the parking lot before pulling the door open. Before he gets in he stops again and turns to look directly at Snoop. He winks. Then he gets into the car, which quickly drives off toward the favellas.
Roughly thirty minutes later, the Mercedes returns. Only the shorter driver exits the vehicle. He gets out, unlocks the door to the restaurant, and flips the sign around. Minutes later loud rock music begins playing and over the next hour, a horde of motorcycles rumble into the lot. All the other businesses are closed, and the rowdy bikers take full ownership of the entire lot.
Things cool down around 0300, as the bikers slowly and drunkenly ride off and the joint is locked up. The lights never turn off. At about 0815, the short man exits and takes the Mercedes once more, returning a short time later with the tall man.
Salvo watches the recording from snoop several times. Pausing and or running it back frequently. All the while making notes. After the 3rd viewing he calls the group together.
”Okay. As I see it our options are as follows:”
Salvo moves over to a flip chart, Where he got something like that is a mystery. The first page contains a crude stylized drawing of a building, labeled Joao Carlo’s building in flames and several stick figures with big guns blasting figures labeled Joao and short dude. There are also other figures labeled wrong place wrong time.
”One, we go in guns blazing in the morning after blondie arrives. While it might be satisfying and really what he deserves. It has a high probability of collateral damage and undesired casualties. And in the end he will probably make us kill him. Also unlike the vamp neighborhood, the cops would respond to a firefight here. Eventually anyway.
He flips to the next page. This drawing depicts the parking lot. There is a car with a dollar sign that is smoking. Stick figure labeled Blondie and short dude. Along with Figures representing the group. They are holding guns on the men who have their hands up.
”2: We hit blondie and the driver when they were leaving in the evening while in the parking lot. We hide nearby and take them by surprise.We force them back inside. This should allow us to have a chat.?
He flips the page one final time. The drawing depicts a helicopter shooting big rockets at Joao Carlos, there is also a tank in the parking lot.
”And 3. While fun requires too much logistical support.
He Flips the chart back to the beginning. Turning to the group.
”Any questions?
"I was thinking of suggesting plan 2. Minimum of bad guy back-up, maximum leverage, with little risk of collateral damage if things turn loud. I suspect Joao Carlo is a middleman at best, so he may give up info in exchange for his life. The only thing that worries me is that he's willingly vulnerable to such a plan, which suggests he has a contingency in place for such events."
"Could we put a tracker and maybe a bug on the car, maybe learn where he lives or hangs out when not here?"
Stringer nods at Salvo. "I like 2, too. I don't know about a tracker- he spotted Snoop across the street when it wasn't even moving. He'd probably spot a tracker even easier." He shrugs. "He already knows he's being watched, though, so I guess it can't hurt to try."
He gestures at the door, indicating their borrowed piece of crap vehicle. "We might need to upgrade to something less likely to break down going up a hill if this has a chance of turning into a chase, though."
"We cannot rule out he has powers of some sort. That may be why they are grabbing people with powers for gods know what. Who is good at boosting cars? Anything you can steal, I can drive."
Stringer frowns. "Powers? Like in comics?" He shakes his head. "I can see 'vampires'," he makes air quotes around the word, "with some kind of disease or chronic condition or something, but like magic? I don't know about that. That thing that guy was doing could just be some kind of holographic tech. Neither of those two we rescued seemed like they could do anything weird."
He shakes his head. "But I guess it's better to plan for anything than get surprised because I can't imagine something." Stringer sighs and nods at Faith. "I don't know about 'good'- it's not my main gig or anything- but I can boost us another car if we can find something better where we can get at it."
”I’ll take a shot at boosting another car. Although, last time it didn’t go so well.”
Seeing Stringer having trouble wrapping his head around the supernatural world he had stepped into. Causes Salvo to smile slightly.
”Yep, magic is real or something near enough. Some people in my line of work call these things Psionics. Either way it can get pretty unbelievable. Oh,and I’m not sold on blondie being a wizard just yet. He could just have some bleeding edge tech.”
Moving over to his gear.”And I wouldn’t worry too much about the Mercedes getting away.” He picks up a stick of dynamite.”Now it won’t be pretty or quiet. But I can stop the car if needed.”
Faith is good with confronting the pair when they leave.
[d
Otherwise Slavo will prepare for the encounter.
to deploy in the most advantageous position.
Demolitions Take 20 to rig a dynamite explosive, Total 29
He will set up in a prime location to be able to support the team while still close enough to interact with the targets.
Hibo stands next to Stringer and nods. "I am ready."
The crew waits as the day crowd gradually exits the cafe and bar. A few hang out by their cars, chatting a while before finally driving off. The rest of the strip mall is similarly emptying.
Salvo helps everyone find a good position to ensure maximum coverage in the case of a firefight. Snoop observes from afar, picking up very little unusual wireless traffic.
Just as the sun is beginning to set, two final patrons emerge. They glance backward as they hustle away from the door. Moments later, the balding man emerges bearing a pair of bronze stanchions connected by a red velvet rope. A sign atop one of the stanchions reads, "Closed for Private Party."
Faith speaks quietly into her headset, "Looks like a change of plans. Party time. Maybe we should sit tight and observe. See who shows up."
Faith hunkers down to stay out of view while still having eyes on the parking lot.
"That one guy knows we're here. The private party could be for us," Stringer says.
When the bald man appears, Salvo tightens his grip on the MG. Only to relax and shake his head when the sign appears.
”I don’t trust coincidences. I think Stinger may be right and we are expected.”
He stows the weapon in the Jeep. Picking up the SMG and adjusting his long coat. Finally dropping a grenade into each pocket.
”We should hang back a bit. If no one else shows in, oh say 15 minutes. Then I think the party is for us.”
The hunters wait and watch, but no one else approaches.
Hibo holstered his firearm. "I will approach and see what he has to say. Cover me?"
Stringer glances at Faith and Salvo but shrugs. "Just don't go inside without us, I guess. I'll fly Snoop in so we can hear what you're saying." He orders Snoop to fly over the building's roof and land above the front door and starts getting Tank ready to accompany Faith and Salvo.
Hibo moves from his hiding place and cautiously approaches the door. The short man glances at him while wearing a perfect poker face. Then, turns his gaze back to the parking lot itself as he reaches down and unhooks the velvet rope without saying a single word.
If the doorman does not insist that Hibo disarm then Faith will holster her weapons and cautiously approach the front door as well.
Faith receives much the same treatment as Hibo. The short man gives her a silent look with cold, dead eyes then returns to watching the lot.
Faith cautiously enters. Once the door is behind her, she begins to talk into the communicators describing what she finds as she explores.
Once he is reasonably certain that the SMG is mostly hidden beneath his long coat. Salvo begins to consider how to conceal the Assault Shotgun. Then taking notice that the others entered without being disarmed. He decides to see just how far their Hosts will let it go.
They don’t seem worried we are armed. Either they don’t plan a confrontation. Or and probably more likely. They are confident in their ability to overpower us.
Shrugging, he slings the weapon over his shoulder and walks toward the door.
I love it when the bad guys are overconfident…But then again I hate it when I am. Oh well, looks to be an interesting evening.
Glancing back at Stinger and nodding. "Yeah. This is definately OUR party. You comming?"
He gives the doorman a good look over along the way.
A small dingy restaurant that has seen better days greets Hibo and Faith as they walk inside. The smells of stale cigarette smoke mix with old spilled beer and recently cooked greasy meat.
The lunch counter-turned-bar is covered with hundreds of small dents and scratches, although the booth tables are in far better shape, sporting only dozens of divots and grooves.
Standing behind that counter wearing a pristine white apron over an old-fashioned but expertly tailored gray suit is a tall Caucasian man with blonde hair that turns gray at the temples. He is whistling "The Girl from Ipanema" and placing baked potatoes on plates.
When Salvo enters the man looks up and appraises him, noting the various bulges. In English he asks, "American?" he holds his hands up making finger guns and says, "Rat-a-tat-tat!" then shakes his head and laughs. "Surely, you left the little girl wherever it is you have been hiding. No, no, just take a seat for now, once all the guests have arrived we can play the "game of names."
Faith mutters into the comm unit, "We've all been invited in. So far, just one guy, who seems to be in charge; no muscle yet."
In Portuguese, she responds to the man in the apron, "Estamos mais interessados em saber por que fomos sequestrados do que em comida, não que recusaremos uma refeição bem preparada.'
Her Portuguese is excellent, although with a touch of an American accent.
Stringer sighs and follows Salvo inside, making sure Tank is ready to run across the street and light the doorman up if anything starts up.
He reaponds to Faith in English. "I think you know why, but that isn't important. We have a simple deal to-" he stops as Stringer enters.
"Anyone else? You wouldn't bring the little girl with you, I think, ja? And someone must be watching her. I don't believe you would be irresponsible, so this is the last one?" he asks, finishing preparing the plates and arranging them on the bar counter.
He then reaches under the bar to grab steins and starts filling them from the least-cheap beer on tap.
"I am Edmund Klaus, and you are four people who my very expensive mercenaries identified using a psionically-charged crystal as having some degree of latent psychic ability. Your individual names, to be quite honest, are of no importance to me, what is important is that my expensive mercenaries convinced me to sub-contract holding you to local talent. In all fairness, they were correct. Except..." he sets the last mug down in front of his own plate and picks up the utensils. Klaus cuts a piece of steak, bloody rare, and takes a bite.
"Mmm! That is so good. Kobe beef, not the cheap mass-produced local nonsense Joao Carlo feeds the riff-raff. Where was I?" he cuts another piece and chews before continuing.
"Ah, yes, it was a smart move, except that one 'team' of subcontractors did not take their role seriously, and the mercenaries were not bright enough to keep well-armed individuals away from one another. And now, you are here, confused and looking for answers. But, as I said earlier, the answers are not important to you."
"So, here is my proposal: I will let you all live and return to your lives. In exchange, you will give me the child. Oh! Not for anything perverted! She broke my crystal. She possesses psychic power which is beyond my ability to measure! The perfect vessel for our needs." He says all of this with a casual tone, as if talking to old friends.
The bald man, apparently Joao Carlo, enters the building and stands silently at the door. "Is the auto ready, friend?" Klaus asks him. Joao Carlo just stares back. "Wunderbar!" he eats the last bite of steak, ignoring his potato and asparagus before looking back at the hunters. "So? Your lives for the girl?"
Stringer takes in the information, storing it away for later use, and watches his companions to see how they react. "That is... quite an offer," the young man says noncomitally.
Faith knows her own answer to his vile proposal, but she does not want to admit that yet, so she tries to draw Klaus out a bit.
"So this girl is, as you say, 'the perfect vessel for your needs'. Vessel for what, exactly? What's in it for her besides you graciously allowing her to live in service to your needs?"
"Mmm," Klaus nods at Stringer, playing his uncommitted delaying game along with him.
He chuckles and shakes his head in response to Faith. "Oh, no, no. She will not live. Don't worry, she will never feel a thing."
His phone chimes loudly. "Ah, pardon me, please. I know, it is very rude, my apologies," he says as he reads a text. He sets the device down on the bar and moves to refill his beer. "Anyone else need more of this awful beer? Just to warn you it goes through you as quick as you drink it."
Faith says, "You seem to think we saved the girl because we are good guys who fight to save innocents from people like you. We don't care about some snot-nosed teenager who probably spends all her time making Tik-Tok videos of herself. The world will not miss her. We saved her so we could find out who is behind this and offer our services, since you've obviously got some deadwood in your operative base. Give contact info for your boss and we'll tell you where the girl is."
I have not looked at the roll.
Klaus throws his head back and laughs. "You would need copies of a variety of ancient tomes and complex rituals to reach my patron. If you're alive, then in the next few months you may just meet her."
Nodding and smiling at the ‘American, rat-a-tat comment. He points a thumb at himself and says.
”Chicago. Bang, bang.” Returning the finger gun pointing to Klaus.
Taking a seat at the bar. He places the shotgun beside his plate. Sampling the food as Klaus gives his talk.
Nodding when Klaus mentions the poor performance of the Sub-contractors and Mercs.
”Yeah good help is hard to find.”
After he makes his offer about the girl for our lives. Salvo stops eating. And casually begins to scan the room for anything suspicious as well as more closely observing Klause and Jao.
After Fath tries her bluff for more information. Salvo raises his glass.
”Sir, I salute you for an excellent meal. And a very…interesting offer.”
Setting the glass back upon the bar he subtly pulls his hand back from the glass to come to rest on the grip of the shotgun. Then leaning back slightly.
”So, if we give you the little girl. We can just go back to our normal lives? Well that’s very generous.”
He pauses and looks thoughtful.
”Do you know what I do for a living?.’
Looking Klaus in the eyes.
”I put down monsters.”
Firing the shotgun from where it lays on the bar, point blank into Klaus. He allows the recoil from the weapon to carry it from the bar. He slides off the barstool and drops down. Intending to gain cover from the bar and what little there might be from the barstool.
- Will spend a Action Point + Point blank shot (hoping for flat-footed AC)