Maybe you should sacrifice a lucky dice to the dice-bot god? Melt it with a lighter and pray prayers of praise and worship.
Your second shot goes way wide and the mercenary shooting at you gets a little cocky. He starts walking toward you and fires off another three round burst. Another point of damage. You anticipate another bruise on your right leg to match your chest. Your left arm is fine though.
1d10 + 8 + 5 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 8 + 5 + 3 + 2 = 24 1d6 ⇒ 2 5d6 ⇒ (1, 4, 4, 2, 6) = 171d10 ⇒ 7 5d6 ⇒ (1, 4, 1, 3, 1) = 101d10 ⇒ 6
Remove 2 SP from your right leg and 1 from your left arm.
The chaos doubles as one of the mercenaries slams his shoulder into the RV and opens the door for the other two. As the door opens a grenade is released from under the RV and rolls out between the team at the door. It bursts in a shock wave of smoke and force. Two of the team stagger back, stunned. The furthest from the door is quick enough to use the doorway of a nearby building for cover. He advances quickly to the entrance of the RV. The mercenary covering the other end of the block downs the other gang member in a spray of blood, but several more gang members are pushing their way through the fleeing crowd and are pulling weapons.
I think for simplicity we are going to have to do away with round by round initiative.
Chaos erupts as the team of corporate mercs approaches the RV. Two gang bangers hanging around the corner down the street from the RV pull out large, but cheap looking handguns. They fire several shots in the direction of the merc's storming the RV. One connects and injures one of the mercenaries. The merc guarding the street in that direction sprays automatic fire at the bangers. One banger is shot in the leg, but seems to ignore it completely. The other's head explodes in a red spray and falls limply to the ground. Several innocent bystanders fall as the automatic fire rips through the busy intersection. People begin to scatter in every direction.
The shot you were carefully aiming at the shooter closest to you goes wide as your measured movement toward the dumpster becomes a wild dash for cover. The shooter closest to you immediately draws a bead in your direction after your shot. He fires a three round burst on you just as you reach the cover of the dumpster. One round hits you in the right arm and another in the left leg, but they fail to penetrate due to the cover and your armor. The shot to your chest stings and will bruise 1 damage to your chest, but not enough to bother you significantly.
1d10 + 8 + 5 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 8 + 5 + 3 + 2 = 20 Just hits. Assault rifles are hard to miss with at short range.
1d6 ⇒ 5 3 shots hit
5d6 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 3, 1) = 101d10 ⇒ 5 5d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 2, 1, 1) = 101d10 ⇒ 9 5d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 4, 5, 3) = 191d10 ⇒ 2
Again you would need to make a stun save, but it is not possible to fail it for one damage.
Remove 1 SP from your right arm and left leg and 2 SP from your chest.
The two shooters covering the street don't seem to notice you drawing your weapon, at least not until it is too late. The three moving to the RV trust their teammates and do not look in your direction. As your instincts kick in you assess your adversaries. The two members of the assault team covering the street have assault rifles, while the rest are using large submachine guns. All are dressed in black assault gear, black BDU's with black balaclavas. They are definitely corporate mercenaries, but you can't tell which corporation yet. You have the drop on them, but you are outnumbered.
A bit of a moral test there. You could have run and gotten clear, but clearly it would have left Brightside in a bad way. Make sure you roll initiative for the next round when you post your next post.
Brightside seems almost embarrassed to ask for a 100 credits, a small amount based on the time and effort he spent examining you. It seems like unlikely due to his attitude, but you have heard rumors that Brightside spends his earnings to treat the homeless and less advantaged of Night City. He leaves you with a final statement, "I've never heard anything about Neurogenisis, but that means they are not big enough to finance this thing on their own."
You step outside and get half a block from the RV before you hear the familiar sound of an AV inbound. For a moment you flash back to your AV landing on the roof of Neurogenisis, your team spreading out on the rooftop, weapons ready. Looking up, you see several figures hot-roping from the AV onto the street near the RV.
Brightside shakes his head, "I can't extract it, no. There's some individual ones floating in your blood that have not made their way to your central nervous system, but the majority are gathered in your CNS. You know, where your important parts are? With nanites there are two ways they are usually disposed of. One way is that they have a certain longevity built into the design, where they wear out after a certain amount of time or they have achieved a certain task. The second is that there is some sort of chemical shut off switch designed into them. Some chemical that, when it is introduced to the body, signals the nanos to deactivate. After they are deactivated or broken they are flushed by the body like any other microscopic piece of waste. You find any documents or information on the designs, then maybe I can figure out how to get them out, but I can't do shit right now."
He sits down in a chair, "As for that doc that was going to extract them." He shakes his head with a frown, "That tech is worth more than some Edgerunner's life to a corporation, and he'd need a mass quantity of the nanites if he wanted to study or replicate them. I'd guess he was going to do it the messy way. Extract your brain and spinal column, and separate the nanites from the tissues with a centrifuge." He gives you a grim smile, "I wouldn't like your chances to survive the procedure."
Brightside nods thoughtfully, "Just because you aren't dead yet doesn't mean it's not poison, but it could be a lot of things. Hop up on the table and we'll take a look."
He starts by taken your vitals, followed by drawing your blood and examining it under a microscope. He has you strip to your skivvies and lay down on the table. A large scanner drops from the ceiling and runs the entire length of your body. He stares at a monitor for a while and finally pulls away from it. "Well, I think I can say that it's not poison." He takes out an interface cable and plugs it into one of your interface jacks and plugs the other end into a deck he has nearby. Finally, he turns and gives you another long look.
He turns the monitor in your direction, "I don't think these belong." On the monitor is a screenshot of something you can't immediately identify, although with the red blood cells surrounding it, you can deduce that it is microscopic. It seems organic, but there is a mechanical component to it too. "These are something I haven't seen before. I haven't even heard of them before. It seems like some sort of hybrid of a bacteria and a nanite. I can't even imagine how these are created and how they work. It's basically like a cyber-bacteria."
He changes the shot on the screen to the scan of your body. It is various shades of blues against a black background. Your spinal cord and brain are various shades of red and orange. "You are running a slight fever, but didn't report other signs of illness. So I did a thermal scan of your body. This biomap shows 98.6 degrees as a baseline, so all reds and oranges are hotter than that. You don't have general fever as is normal. You are running hot in your skull and along your spine, which is not normal. So I thought maybe it is attacking your neuralware. I ran a diagnostic and found some interference. Nothing is malfunctioning yet, but it seems to be slowing your system down a bit. Nothing that you would notice, but it is detectable with the diagnostic. But those things are doing something in there, something that is expending a lot of energy."
Brightside turns off the monitor and sits for a minute. "Bottom line? I have no f!*$ing idea what is happening in there. I took some data from your neuralware and I can spend some time and processing power on it. Maybe I can figure out more. Until then, do you know who put these into you? What were they working on? It would have to be a well-funded project to do something so groundbreaking."
The inside of the Brightside's RV has been fully gutted and all the furnishings replaced with medical equipment. There is a full surgical table with multiple robotic arms hanging above it. A bed in back could probably serve as a second table if necessary. There drawers full of equipment and vials of drugs and medicine. You can only imagine the deals that the Doc has in place to keep the place from being robbed.
Brightside is crouching, rifling thorough a drawer. He doesn't look up as you enter, but wordlessly raises his hand in a casual wave in your direction. When you state your purpose he pauses for a second and then looks up at you. His red glasses are completely opaque and you are not sure how he can see you. Even with the glasses though, you can tell he is scanning you intently. "Well, that's a really vague way to say something." He stands, still looking at you. "You've been shot in the leg, but there is no blood. So it can't be that. If you say it's your dick, then you are looking at the wrong doctor."
As you travel further south the city changes. Gone are the gleaming skyscrapers, covered in bright advertisements, replaced with aging tenements only four or five stories tall, sprawling strip malls, and fast food restaurants. You see less and less police patrolling on foot, and instead spot clearly marked surveillance dirigibles float overhead.
The people surrounding you changes as well. Uptown is full of confident men and women in impeccable thousand dollar suits or outfits, or scurrying salarymen in ill-fitting department store suits. Downtown is much more diverse, the crowded streets full of men and women scrambling to keep fed. The clothes are made of cheaper cloth, Street vendors hawk everything from ethnic foods to electronics to cheap firearms. Gangs of hoodlums are given wide birth as they prowl about looking for a reason for violence. Here and there you see other figures dressed in thick dark clothing: other edgerunners going about their business.
The sky darkens as you enter Brightside's neighborhood. Many of the retail businesses in the area are closing, lowering metal shutters over their storefronts. More food vendors appear, pedaling mobile restaurants into their normal locations. As the clubs and bars move into their prime business hours, the outfits become more outrageous: glaring in outlandish colors or accented with glowing panels or in transparent and translucent clothing designed to shock and titillate.
You walk a few blocks, trying to make any tails that might be following you, but nothing seems amiss. You see some roving groups of gangbangers, but you keep your eyes to yourself and your big size keeps them from getting any ideas. Ahead you see Brightside's RV, a rusting, pre-biofuel model that has been retrofitted to run Choo2. There's no sign or advertisement on the side, but those who use his services know what to look for.
Approaching the RV you see a thick data cable running from the second story window of the nearby building into the vehicle. You also hear Brightside growling to a leaving customer, "You keep getting shot in that same f%!$ing arm and there's not going to be enough vat grown meat in the city to keep it functioning. So try ducking, stupid."
Brightside is a tall man in his late-thirties, short brown hair and distinctive sunglasses with red-lenses. the hallmark on his cyberware is a happy face wearing red sunglasses, with a bleeding bullet hole in the forehead. The name "Brightside" is sarcastic, as he is a real cynical son of a b@&*~.
The Net is not going to be much help for finding things like Ripperdoc's and Netrunners as they try to keep a low profile. Streetwise is your best bet. I will make the roll for you to keep things moving.
1d10 + 3 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 9 = 17
Finding either is just an Average difficulty which you made.
Filing through your mental rolodex you find a few options.
One is a Doc you know, goes by the name of Brightside. He's a doc who specializes in cyberware, though he known to be a damn good trauma surgeon as well. He works out of an RV that he parks down near the Combat Zone. You visited him once after a job, and he did good by you.
Second is a place, the Forlorn Hope. A bar that serves a lot of Central American vets; it is known that a lot of Edgerunners of all types hang out there. You haven't had the guts to go there since you returned to the city because the place has a rep for being rough on newcomers, but they say that they take care of their own there.
Third is a fixer you met once who offered to find you work if you needed some. She goes by Shiva and is said to be someone you don't want to piss off. This may not be about finding work, but she probably has the connections that you need.
Gun laws have been relaxed considerably. It is legal to carry non-automatic weapons openly and conceal permits are relatively easy to obtain. America is an armed society similar to the old west. Certain areas of the city are Free Fire Zones where you can freely settle your disputes with your gun and the cops pick up the pieces after. Downtown is not like THAT, but only in the most highly patrolled areas will the police have issue with you carrying your handguns. Your 5-shooters are probably not registered, considering your line of work, but you can carry them in most settings without being hassled. I'm going to assume you have them on you and will warn you if you are headed into an area where it may cause you a problem.
You step off the pedicab in the Upper Eastside, one of the commercial sections of Night City. In the last few years it has found itself in the trenches of the war against urban decay. Here you'll find the oil-and-water mix of heavy metal and soft velvet: hard chrome gang bangers who'll crush your skull and soft corps who'll crush your life.
You look up at the Giant's Chair, a group of buildings actually named the Windemere's. These four buildings look like an arm chair from the air. They house an large art gallery and several residential buildings.
Looking to the southeast where your research indicated that Dr. George worked in Neurogenesis' research labs, all you can see is the Muckjuck. The MUnicipal Criminal JUstice Complex is a dark blue mirrored glass tower. Inside is the Night City Police Precinct #1, the city arraignment courts, jail cells, braindance rehabilitation areas, a police academy, offices, evidence rooms, and the vehicle and weapons training, storage and maintenance areas required by a police force.
As you stand looking at one of the largest and most intimidating buildings in the city a police AV-4 flies overhead. This area is in the direct flight path of many AVs heading to land on the Muckjuck.
On all d10 rolls, if you roll a 10 then you roll again and add it to the number. See the tab on the campaign info about Crits and Fumbles for more info.
Another roll is not necessary, you have gained the relevant info I thought to tell you. If you want to look for something else related, then I will tell you what you can find using your prior roll. If you ask about something that is a significantly different subject from what you initially asked for, then I may ask for another roll.
You search around and find a little bit more info on Richard George, but much of it is irrelevant. You find one of his dissertations (which is too technical for you to even understand what it is about except you think it has to do with nanotechnology) , his hometown, and his address (In a downtown high security highrise that is generally home to corporate middle managers who are not required to stay in corporate housing.).
When you read his address you flashback to sitting in an unfamiliar bar with your teammates. One slender female, with dirty blonde hair and a crooked smile says, "He lives in some drone hive on 5th street, but between the ICE on their system and the physical security it's not even worth going after him there. Maybe in transit?" You snap out of it with a jerk. You have no idea why the team decided that it wouldn't work to hit him on his way to or from home.
Searching for CIP seems to be a dead end, you have some obviously unrelated hits on the acronym, but anything relevant is probably buried in Neurogenesis' secured server. You'd have to be a netrunner to have a chance to get at that.
The Library Search skill is good at getting public info, but you will not find anything that someone is trying to keep secure.
1d10 ⇒ 4Total of 21. Having succeeded at the roll go ahead and give yourself a level in Library Search.
You get a ticket from the kiosk in the lobby of the theater and find your way to the appropriate cubical. It contains an appropriate sized suit which takes a while to get into and then you hook yourself onto the arm sticking up from the floor which suspends just off the floor. You place the helmet on your head and after a quick startup sequence during which you choose a generic avatar you find yourself in a long virtual lobby with doors to all the latest braindance releases. Each door has a preview of the braindance, a voice over starting when you focus a door. Most of the doors lead to pornographic simulations.
You use the gesture to bring up the in-simulation menu which lets you access the Net. A door appears in front of you and you step through to find yourself in front of a large theater in the style of classic 30's theaters. Spotlights shoot up to the sky and crowds of bots to either side of the entrance make it seem like a grand premier. The theater is Holoplex's home system and if you stepped in you would find their public informational site. Some nondescript door would lead to their private corporate server, which you would not be allowed to enter without the proper login and passwords.
You pull up the menu again and search for Neurogenisis, finding some general information and an address for their public site. The general information indicates that they are a privately owned company that does Research and Development in the areas of Biotechnology and Nanotechnology.
You touch the address and are taken to the outside of the Neurogenisis site. It looks like a medium office or laboratory building with the corporate logo as a sign on the front. you enter the front doors and are in a large lobby. Company information and statistics are emblazoned on glowing signs around the room. There is a desk with two generically beautiful young women sitting behind it. You can tell from their bland smiles that they are bots. After a few dead end inquiries you have a brainstorm. You ask to see any corporate bios which may be public information.
The bot hands you something that looks like a large tablet. When you hold it up, a person appears in front of you. He is tall, thin, with a graying hair and a handsome, though somewhat gaunt face. Next to him a paragraph of text appears and the person starts read it off. He announces that he is Simon Hertz, president of the company. Forty five years old, he has doctorates in Nanotechnology and Biology, and
a MBA. He enjoys sailing and rock climbing.
With a smirk you swipe the tablet and another figure appears in front of you. You keep on swiping until you find what you were looking for. The man from your memories who was holding his bleeding belly appears before you in full health. He announces that he is Richard George, a project head in charge of the CIP project. He does not explain what the acronym means. He states that he has doctorates in Viralogy and Nanotechnology, both from Stanford. The bio then starts again.
There are several modern methods of interface with the Net. The simplest is the old fashioned screen, keyboard and motion sensor. Most information at this point is not formatted to be displayed on a monitor though, so other than basic uses such as what you could accomplish on your PDA something more is required.
The second method of interface is a haptic rig, the simplest of which consists of virtual 3D goggles and linked gloves to manipulate and feel objects on the Net. More expensive rigs include full suits that can convey physical sensations and an articulated structure that allows them free full-range of movement of their limbs and keeps them suspended above a sliding floor that moves in all horizontal directions. More complicated rigs are possible but the final method of interface is so superior, that no one is willing to pay or settle for them.
For those who can make the investment, Neuralware and interface plugs provide the ultimate immersion in the Net. A basic neural processor is surgically implanted in the lower spine, and is used to route signals from any external sources such as cyberware, the Net, vehicle or weapon links, or popularly Braindance units. Once the processor is implanted it releases a flood of nanosurgical units into the spinal column which thread tiny linkages through the central nervous system, hooking nerve endings to the neural processor. Connecting the Net requires a piece of hardware commonly called a deck and interface plugs implanted in the user, usually in the wrists, back of the neck, or for the truly committed in the temple. A deck is a computer, which is sometimes portable, that provides the processing power to construct a virtual reality which is the interface between the user and the Net.
The quality and cost of decks vary greatly. Many users own simple, non-portable decks that they keep at home, much like people used to own home computers and entertainment centers. Those who specialize in creating, manipulating, and exploiting computer systems are known as Netrunners and spend a great deal of their resources to design and build compact, highly powerful and indvidualized decks.
Braindance theaters and arcades rent full suit haptic rigs for the nonjacked, which at reputable establishments are disinfected between uses. For those who do not own decks or desire a more complex or immersive experience than their home systems offer these businesses also provide systems with tiered capabilities. Using your PDA, you find a nearby chain theater called a Holoplex. It features over a hundred individual cubicles with full suit haptic rigs and a variety of decks. A full immersion haptic suit and a high fidelity entertainment level deck cost 10cr an hour with the latest braindance releases included. A functional information search deck is 5cr an hour.
Make a Library Search or System Knowledge check. For you both will be a d10 roll plus your intelligence as you do not have the skills.
Matt nods into his food. "I will see what I can find and will drop it here. Check this time tomorrow." He wipes his face with a napkin and slips it close to your hand. He stands and turns from you, "Try not to get iced in the meantime and don't tell anyone about me." He walks away without looking back.
You finish your meal, trash the remnants, and walk back onto the street. Within the crumpled napkin you find a locker number and the combination of a locker in the local high speed train station.
Militech:
Militech is the world's largest producer and seller of military weapons of all kinds. It is a major supplier to the US miltary, which is it's largest customer. Miltech will deal with anyone who has money however and it's mercenary forces and in-house supply of weaponry make it the most militarily powerful company in the world, if not the most economically. That will come later...
Matt leans in and starts shoveling rice into his mouth. Between bites he asks, "Were they the target or the ones who intervened?"
The guys you took out in the container had a corporate ID (Militech). This indicates that the corporation that they worked for felt that it was legitimately protecting it's own interests and used it's in-house mercs instead of the more complicated and expensive black operatives (mostly edgerunners).
Matt looks down at his sushi and picks at it with his chopsticks. "You need to get a doc to look at you. Who were you extracting and who stopped you?" He picks up a roll with his chopsticks, takes a large bite, and stares out the window while chewing. He looks to all the world like he is daydreaming, although you are pretty sure he is scanning the street for anyone watching you both.
You toss in your bed, bouncing off the walls of the coffin. Finally you are able to doze fitfully. Images of your recent op come to you without order or context: You turn and see a man holding a hypospray, his other hand holding his bleeding gut. Your teammates exit the AV, weapons ready. You, on your knees and puking your guts onto the floor. A corporate logo for a company named Neurogenisis. You covering a corner, a sharp pain in the back of your neck. An empty rooftop with you and your mates preparing to enter the building.
You wake suddenly in sweat drenched paper sheets. As you regain your composure, you look at your PDA and realize that you should probably be leaving for your meet soon.
The New Harbor area, dominated by the mega-structures of the Mallplex and stadium, is mostly light industrial and heavy commercial traffic not typical for most of the city. As the pedicab moves out of the area you hit streets much more typical of downtown. Huge videoboards scream from every building. Monster ad-blimps cluster overhead, booming messages down twenty four hours a day. The streets are packed with pedicabs, taxicabs, metrocars, and cyberbikes, while the skies are a maze of speeding aerodynes, helicopters, aerogyros, and light dirigibles.
The old man pedaling your pedicab stops in front of a six story brick building typical of the Hole. The ground floor is one of many fast food joints in the area servicing low and mid level Execs and government workers looking for a quick, cheap lunch. This building hosts a SoSushiMe, serving prepackaged sushi served in edible seaweed cartons.
Inside you order and receive a prepack and proceed to the eating counters spread throughout the dining area. Matt is sitting at one of the counters looking out the window into the street. A thin black man with thinning hair. He is dressed in a moderately expensive suit and is alternately pulling one chopstick along the the other, like he is sharpening a kitchen knife. As you sit next to him in one of the few empty seats he does not look at you, maintaining the illusion that you are two strangers eating next to each other. Matt is an old pro at tradecraft and it is almost second nature to him. "You ok Choomba? It sounded serious on the phone."
Choomba:
CHOMBATTA (CHOOMBA) - Neo-Afro-American slang for a friend or a family member.
Matt agree's to meet you at 1 o'clock this afternoon at a fast food joint in the City Center (see neighborhoods in the campaign info tab). The restaurant is on the ground floor of one of many small brick buildings collectively called "the Hole". The most timely and time effective way to get there will be a pedi taxi. It will take about 20 minutes in traffic and will cost four credits with tip.
You know that a few years ago Matt transferred from the Defense Intelligence Agency to the Northern California National Guard Military Intelligence Corps. In the current political climate the NCNG is essentially it's own army now. It no longer answers to the national command chain and considers the governor of California it's Commander and Chief. The transfer actually works to your advantage as the US military has minimal presence in California anymore, just seeing to National border security. Other than the still powerful US Military the NCNG is second only to the Independent Texas Militia as the most powerful military force in the western hemisphere. As a member of NCNG's Intelligence Corps Dawkins is more likely to have access to information about happenings in California than if he were still at the DIA.
His face appears in your PDA screen. It seems like you have woken him up. Considering that it is nearing 4am and he has a government job, you probably have. "Max? Is that you?" His eyes dart upwards toward the time display on his own PDA, "At zero four hundred, I'm assuming that you are in some kind of trouble."
You dash across the street and cringe at another muffled shot from the sniper, but the shot hits the pavement near you. With great relief you reach the cover of the underpass and manage not to get hit by the approaching car. The AV makes some passes, but you manage to avoid being seen. Likewise, you catch glimpses of the men following you, but now that you have slipped the net, it is not too difficult to elude them.
Eventually, you make your way south to the Mallplex. It is a small city unto itself. In addition to over 60 retail shops, the mallplex also has several residential towers which house roughly 5,000 people. It also has restaurants, fire stations, educational facilities, power generators, and its own police force. Several corporations have call centers and factory spaces under the building that employee many of the residents, while the rest work in the shops. One could, in theory, live their entire life in the mall and never have to leave. To many it is an Orwellian hive that reduces people into mindless insects.
Before approaching the Mallplex, you stop by the connected parking garage (a massive building by itself). You stored your PDA in a well hidden crack in the building. Your PDA is similar to a smartphone, but it is the size of sharpie marker. It has a pullout touch sensitive screen the size of a small tablet and uses motion sensing and voice input. It acts as your phone and computer, and it has an imbedded, but non-networked, electronic currency chip that holds encrypted electronic currency codes. It also serves as your identification papers when combined with your biometric information.
The coffin hotel, a Staylite Micro-Room Hotel, is located on the bottom floor of the Mallplex and has it's own entrance. This is important because it means that you are not required go through the Mallplex's stringent security check. You enter the "lobby" of the hotel, which is actually just a small room with doors at either end. On one wall is a video monitor, a chip reader, a metal drawer, and a video camera.
On the monitor is a distinctive CGI head that appears in all of Staylite's commercials and billboards. It is programed to look like an aged Robert Patterson with traditional Dracula style dress and widow's peak. It speaks with heavy fake Transylvanian accent. "Good Evening Mr. Smith, would you like a room again?" Smith is the name you gave the first time you stayed at a Staylight Hotel, and their facial recognition software has linked the name to your likeness. Somewhere in a nearby room, a Staylite employee speaks in his normal voice as he reads the greeting off of a monitor. The computer adds Robert Patterson's voice tones and the thick accent. It also makes the figure on the monitor smiles broadly (showing pointed teeth), and moves it's lips to the words. The computer cannot cover the bored monotone with which the employee speaks though.
You answer in affirmative and stick the end of your PDA in the chip reader. Anonymous encrypted numbers are transferred and, with a push of a button to confirm, you have paid your five credits. The metal drawer comes out of the wall and inside is a combination lock with a small paper showing the combination and some papery sheets. The far door opens and you step into a narrow hallway.
Along either wall are lines of small 3ft by 3 ft doors stacked 4 stories tall. Horizontal plastic bars between the doors provide access to the upper stacks. Each door has a window with a curtain inside that can be shut and a hasp where you can attach the combination lock. You approach your assigned coffin near the end of the bottom row and open the door. The inside has a LED to light the room, an imbedded monitor along the ceiling, and a card reader for paying for internet or cable access. The inside of the door has a bar which you can use to lock it from inside. It smells of disinfectant and an underlying odor you don't really care to think about too much.
It's SOP not to carry ID on a run unless there is a reason to. Did you pay a month's rent on an apartment from your starting cash? Otherwise you live in a "coffin", a 7ft by 3 by 3 "accommodation". The nearest on is at the Mallplex which is about a mile to the south. Luckily they are cash only and basically untraceable. I think the pricing in the book is stupid if it matches the descriptions of the places and compared with the other accommodations. So the cost is 5cr a night. You can pay a week in advance.
You work the angles by keeping close to the warehouse and the sniper does not take another shot. The guards finally get out of the gatehouse and point two cheap revolvers in your direction. The large one looks back at the gate and you can see him work through his TV and fast food haze that it is not their job to keep people from breaking out of the yard. The thin one excitedly fires a shot, but he misses you by a mile.
You run the length of the warehouse, stumbling over a ragged man laying on the ground with his back leaning against the building. His meager belongings are arranged at arms length around him. As you pass he yells after you, "Every runner falls off the Edge* eventually!"
Once you reach the corner of the warehouse and find a raised offramp ahead, commercial and light industrial buildings arrayed underneath and surrounding you. The offramp leads up to the West Gibson Highway, which to the south leads to downtown and eventually swings east to mark the northern border of the Combat Zone. You can hear the traffic on the highway above from here. To the north it hits the Stepheson Bridge which crosses the Coronado bay. The offramp would offer cover from both the sniper and the AV slowly swinging around the warehouse about fifty feet in the air. Streets lead off to both the north and west and some cars are parked here and there along both. You see some headlights heading towards you, but traffic is light in this type of area at this time of early morning.
The Edge:
The Edge is that nebulous zone where the high riders and risk takers go. On the Edge you risk your cash, your rep, even your life on something as vague as a principal or as concrete as a big score. Never drive slow when you can drive fast. Throw yourself against danger and take it head on. Never play it too safe. Don't die a debt slave, a corporate drone, a cog in the great economic machine of oppression. Stay committed to the Edge.
The monoblade isn't sharp in the sense that just pressing it against the metal wire of the fence cuts it. Rather, it is only when the blade moves across the metal wires do they part with a twang, but it takes less than an inch of lateral movement to cut each strand. So you find yourself basically making a sawing motion as you cut through the fence, pushing and pulling the blade like a violinist as it cuts through each strand of the fence.
At first you aren't noticed by the rent-a-cops as they are casually playing a card game, but eventually the thin one looks up and sees you escaping. He cries out and both guards comically jerk into action: the fat one spilling coffee on his shirt and the skinny one tossing his cards into the air. You have completed your cutting as they finally manage to get their guns out of their holsters and begin to move out of the guardhouse.
Meanwhile, the AV roars in to hover above the shipping yard. A spotlight appears and begins to scan your area. The beams of the flashlights also approach. No lights have hit you yet, but it is a relief that you are able to finish the flap in the fence. You are about to push through when a muffled shot comes from the warehouse roof. You feel an impact on the back of your left thigh.
Damage:
6d6 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 3, 2, 1) + 2 = 15 Armor Piercing round. Your armor on your leg is 17 (I'll explain Proportional Armor to you some other time). So cut your armor in half to 8, 9 gets through, but AP damage is halved because it designed to penetrate instead of mushrooming or fragmenting. Minus your BTM of -4, but this can only take you to 1 damage. So, you take 1 points of damage to your left leg. You are lightly injured and must make a stun save. Normally roll a D10 and get under your Body, which is ten. So unless you take more damage you are fine. You are lucky that the roll sucked, and armor is your friend! Also your skin weave and your pants both lose one SP on your left leg. They can be repaired later.
I was thinking about it last night and yes you can. It's not a lightsaber, so you won't be cutting through a metal bulkhead or engine block, but it can go through a chain link fence. You will need to make an "attack roll" because there is a 1 in 10 chance that the blade could break just like any other attack, but don't worry about rolling damage. Mono blades are very sharp, but relatively brittle.
You might have slowed down one of the searchers, but the rest continue on relentlessly. You approach the gatehouse which has light pouring from the windows. As you slow to evaluate the situation you can feel hot breath on your neck, though clearly it is your imagination.
Through the windows you see what looks to be two rent-a-cops. One of them is quite overweight and the other is obviously young and is rail thin. These guys may be armed, but are not corp level security. There is a gate next to the shack, but it is closed. The fences are ten foot high and topped in razor wire tilted outward toward the city. The gate is not topped by razor wire, but there is no way you could get close without the rent-a-cops noticing. To make matters worse an AV is approaching hot from the northwest.
You turn west and pass in front of another shipping container. As you glance down the alley between the containers, you see the flashlight beams moving in seemingly random directions as the searchers scan around. You feel fairly safe until, at almost the exact same time, all the beams turn to the north and the searchers begin to move in your direction. You are almost certain the searchers could not have seen or heard you as you are quite a distance from them and it is fairly dark.
As you round the corner of the shipping container you barely catch a glimpse of the barrel of a rifle and some boots of the team as they head towards the black op clinic. You make your way north towards the warehouse, passing another row between the containers. You look back and flashlight beams appear around the doorway of the clinic container. Apparently the team behind you has given up on stealth and is spreading out to search for you.
You are east of the northeastern most container on the map.
Another stealth roll will be necessary.
It would be impossible to put an actual count on how many people are coming just from their footsteps, but you are certain it is a team of at least 3 or 4 individuals moving in the quick shuffling steps of trained operators. You hear the cha-chink of someone chambering a round in their automatic weapon. They are definitely coming your way from the Northwest.
See the map I emailed you. Forgot to put on it that the red lines are chain link fences topped with razor wire.
You exit the container and see that there are many more around you, some in stacks two or three containers high. They are arranged in rows with about 20ft of space between them. From the accumulated trash and the deterioration of the containers themselves you get the sense that they have been here for a while.
You quickly try to orient yourself. To your left (east) on the horizon you see the familiar skyline of the city's corporate center. To your right (west), more containers and the blank horizon that says to you that the bay is in that direction. The behind the container in front of you (north) there is more blank horizon, and behind you(south) the Night City Ranger's stadium looms close. Sounds of people moving quickly, but not noisily, come from the east and are getting louder.
Make an Awareness/Notice check for more info on the sounds.
Stadium Details:
Many columnists refer to the Rangers as "the best team money could buy." In addition, The Heat (basketball franchise moved from a flooded Miami) and the Slammers, a
professional baseball team, also play here. When the stadium
is not being used for sporting events many large concerts and
entertainment events are held here. The area around the stadium is known for dangerous gang activity.
You find his weapons, his Militech corporate ID, some meth (probably for later), and a cred stick with 800 credits on it. As you peak outside you see a black gear bag near the door. You snatch it and find your guns and sword.
Weapons:
H&K MPK-11 SMG 0 N C 4d6+1 30 20 ST (3 mags of AP ammo) Modified as an assault carbine: Longer barrel gives it 25% range and silencer attached.
Militech Arms Avenger P 0 J E 2d6 10 2 VR (2 Mags of regular ammo)
Militech Electronics Taser P -1 J C Stun 10 1 ST (battery has enough charge for 8 shots)
A monoknife
His buddy's guns are both covered in copious blood and would likely misfire if not cleaned first.
BTW, let say you have 6 speed loaders for the pistols, your other ammo is boxed.
You apply pressure and the soldier tries to escape, but you are stronger and at significant advantage. The struggling fades and he is clearly unconscious.
The soldier looks confused, "You were extracting a scientist from one of our facilities, so you were a prisoner. And the doc should be here any time." As you twist his neck he grunts between clenched teeth, "A grunt doesn't need to know that shit, so I...don't...f&!$ing...know."
Your paranoia is misplaced as once you're listening for it, you can tell his accent is more "cholo" and not so much So Am. The man gives a shrug, at least as much as he is able to in your hold. "The guy you extracted and we were supposed to recover. He got shot, like with a stray bullet, and then he hypo'd something into your neck before he 'lined."
The soldier swallows a few times uncomfortably, trying to get his voice back. His looks and accent indicate that he is probably Hispanic and his actions and demeanor to this point indicates some military background. "You're in the East Marina. A Black surgical bay where things can stay private. They say you got injected with something important. A doc is coming in to extract it. "
You listen carefully for a moment. In the background you hear AV and car traffic in the distance. You hear some lapping sounds that tell you that you are near the ocean. With some relief you fail to hear any voices or footsteps.
Beads of sweat appear on the soldier's forehead as you threaten him and you are fairly certain he is ready to cooperate. The sweat rolling down his forehead draws your attention to the mastoid communicator under his ear.
A mastoid communicator is disposable electro-biologically powered patch applied to the skin above the mastoid bone. It receives radio signals and causes the mastoid bone to vibrate. These vibrations are interpreted by the inner ear as sounds. It is typically matched with a similar patch on the skin above the voicebox, which allows subvocalizations to be broadcast. Many edgerunners and corporate or government operatives use these patches to communicate during operations if they do not have cybernetic audio enhancements.
The subvocalizations are nearly silent but you must touch the patch with your finger to activate the microphone. You are certain the soldier has not been able broadcast anything since you have taken him down.
As you apply your hold you are able to quickly take in your newly illuminated surroundings. The dim light from the doorway shows that the container seems to have been converted to a cheap, easily hidden medical bay. In the middle of the floor is a surgical table bolted to the floor. Along one long wall cheap, prefab cabinets and a countertop have been installed. Medical instruments, supplies, and equipment are arranged around the room and on the countertop. Near the door a powerstrip hangs down with the switch off. Several overhead lights have cords running to the powerstrip. Through the doorway you see only the wall of another shipping container about 15 feet away.
The soldier in your hold nods his head slightly indicating his understanding.
In a classic Judo throw such as this one your hip acts as a fulcrum, greatly increasing the force with which the opponent's body slams into the ground. You hear a "woof" as the air forcefully leaves the soldier's lungs and he seems momentarily dazed.
He's stunned for at least the next round, seriously wounded, and prone. He's felt better about his prospects.
When you are rolling dice when you post I suggest you hit "preview" instead of "submit post". That will let you see what you roll. If you roll a 1 or a 10, then go back and put in another d10 roll. With a 10, the second roll is added into your total and on a 9 or 10 you have critically succeeded. With a 1, a 1 or 2 on the second roll means you have fumbled. Unfortunately, a natural 1 with a mono weapon means it breaks. That is not a fumble, just a quality of the weapon material. They do so much damage, it is the risk many people are willing to take.
There is not much room for the body to fall away from you in the tight confines of the storage container and one of your feet gets tied up with it's legs. This keeps you from a clean attack on the next soldier. You thrust with the knife somewhat clumsily and the tip catches on his armored clothing. The relatively weak crystaline blade snaps near the hilt. He fires the tazer and at this range he could hardly miss. You feel the needles in your stomach and chest, and a jolt of electricity surges through your body. Your muscles seize for a moment, but you remain on your feet.
They chose the wrong person to try to taze. Normally you would roll a stun save, which is rolling a 1d10. If you roll above your Save number (equals your body minus any wound penalties) then you are stunned for a round. In the case of a tazer for 1d10+1 minutes. Since your Body is 10 and you are uninjured, you can't fail the roll. On the other hand, there is a cumulative -2 to your save for each time you are hit with the tazer...
You forgot to roll initiative.
You 1d10 + 10 + 2 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 10 + 2 + 3 = 23
Him 1d10 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 2 = 18
Where did the extra +5 to initiative come from? The 2 is from Combat Senses, the 3 from your Speedware. It doesn't matter in this case because you got Initiative anyway. Otherwise everything else looks perfect.
Defense in Melee:
For Melee/MA combat, everyone gets one free Dodge based on Ref+Dodge/MA/Melee+1d10. Block, Dodge or Parry may be used with the bonuses for each martial art. Using Melee to parry with a Mono weapon can lead to them braking because they are very sharp but prone to shattering.
Otherwise, the difficulty to hit is the defender's static Ref+Dodge/MA. You may also declare a full dodge/block/parry as your only action for the turn, in which case you roll your Ref+Dodge/MA/Melee+1d10 and use it against all melee attackers.
You lunge forward and catch the corporate soldier before he can fire. Your blade sweeps in but your aim is slightly off, so instead slicing through his windpipe as you imagined, the mono-molecular blade edge actually slips through the bones of his spine. As you rip it out of his neck, the knife leaves only a bit of skin and muscle holding the head attached to the rest of his body. The dim light pouring in from the opened door glistens off the blood pouring from his fallen body.
The soldier's companion completes his sweep of the corners, swinging his tazer around to point in your general direction.
As you press yourself against the wall of the container you feel counter top next to you. Luckily there is enough room for your large frame though. You wait, your limbs buzzing with pent up energy, your nano-enhanced nervous system keyed up even further by a natural burst of adrenaline.
You wait long enough that you have to trigger your Speedware a second time. Obviously, the men outside have had some tactical training, as they do not attempt to slowly enter the container, but instead charge in quickly. The first scans from the right to left, as the second follows quickly and scans from the left to right. You recognize the classic two-person entry technique that you learned in Army.
With your enhanced cognitive processors cooking at full speed, you quickly recognize that the men are holding tazers instead of firearms. They are clothed in armored BDU's, have submachine guns slung across their backs, and medium handguns in thigh holsters.
Roll for initiative, and don't forget to add in your Combat Senses and Speedware.
Corp Soldier's Intitative: 1d10 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 8 + 2 = 16
The first operator is facing your direction, the other is scanning the opposite corner. Only the one facing you will attack you this round. Go ahead and state your action if you beat their initiative.
As you approach the doors you hear what sounds like a voice or voices from the outside.
Make a Stealth+Reflex roll.
Stealth roll of 10-14 to see this:
The conversation is between what sounds like two men. In the darkness you don't see an object on the floor. You kick it and it rolls into the door with a clank. The voices go silent.
Stealth roll of 15-17 to see this:
The conversation is between what sounds like two men. One says "They say the Priest is on his way with a doc." You touch the door softly, but there is still a little bit of a rattle as it jiggles. The voices go silent.
Stealth roll of 18+ to see this:
The conversation is between what sounds like two men. One says "They say the Priest is on his way with a doc. The doc will do his shit on that poor bastard and then we'll extract." The conversation continues for a few minutes about going out for drinks after they are done. (You can act here if you wish.) If you wait, one finally says to the other, "Well, we should get him ready for the doc.
As you sit up a splitting headache knifes through your skull. You feel several bruises, but no significant injuries. Your hands are bound together by what seems to be zip ties, but during your self-assessment you feel a knife slipped up the sleeve of your shirt. Where did this come from?
Flashing through your mind is a memory of slipping the knife off a man as he zip ties your wrists. He is dressed in black BDU's with a Militech company patch on his chest. He notices that you are conscious and strikes you in the forehead with the stock of his rifle.
You tentatively touch the raised knot on your forehead as you work the knife free of your sleeve. It only takes a moment to maneuver it to cut the zip ties on your wrists and then the ones on your ankles. Finally, you are able to stand up and check your surroundings. You see a crack of dim light from one direction and you grope blindly towards it. Feeling at the wall you run into, you feel cool corrugated metal under your fingers. It dawns on you that you are in a shipping container as your hand finds the door of the container.
Mono Knife:
The knife you pickpocketed is a Kendachi Monoknife. A mono-sectional crystal blade. Incredibly sharp. In the Japanese "tanto" style. +1 Accuracy, 2d6 damage. You do not currently have your 5 shooters or katana.
You've woken in a dark room with no idea how you got there. You remember the start of a what seems to be an extraction, but you're having trouble remembering the details. You hear muffled voices that seem to come from the outside of whatever room you are in.
On you character sheet you should change Skinweave from the Gear section to the Cybernetics section. I'm also giving you Sandevistian Speedware as an option for your Neuralware for free because there would be no reason to have the Neuralware otherwise So roll the humanity cost for the Skinweave, the Neuralware, and the Speedware. The total humanity cost is 3d6 + 1d6/2.
Speedware description:
You subvocalize a command word (does not count as an action), wait one round, and it gives you a +3 to your initiative for 5 turns. There is a 2 turn downtime between activations.
