Nicholas "Nick Sarge" Smith's page

Nick remains calm. Or he appears to be.
I knew the gangers were up to something, Nicky Boy

With measured movements the ex-PI removes his hands from the pockets to light another cigarette... And to have his right hand free and close to his hidden holster.

When Anya speaks cryptically he merely look at the gangers, trying to read them faces and intentions.

Negotation:Sense Motive: 8d6 ⇒ (6, 6, 4, 3, 1, 4, 5, 3) = 32

Sarge, on a surprising gesture of kindness, caresses Wraith's hair "Not the time, kitty, I don't like magical mumbo jumbos and the job still smells fishy. Better not to lower our defenses that much in here."

The ex-PI takes the can't-believe-it's-not-cigarettes package and picks one, offering Anya another.

"You ain't one to talk about past drekk. I know it because I ain't one either, kitty." Nick exhales the smoke slowly, as if playing with it "I already told you, you ain't alone anymore. No need to start with the bulldrekk soppy stories now, but we'll have to soon... I worry you snap at the wrong time and end up full of holes. Don't want to deal with that, Anya."

Ain't you a sweetheart, Nicky Nick? Want a hug now?

Despite his words, Sarge tries to avoid eye contact and suffles his feet a couple times. Either he is uncomfortable speaking that honestly or his bladder is full.

He ain't answering which one is the jackpot.

"You boyos remember I'm not deaf and standing right here, do ya?" comments Nick with a half chuckle "Gotta agree with Anya, though, boyfriend is a large word. We are Partners in Booze, am I right sweetie?"

The ex-PI stops to look around just in case Wraith's instincts actually activated because of a present threat instead of a ghost from the past, but once he is clear continues walking.

Nick tags along Rune and Wraith. He trusted Wraith being able to save Rune's bacon if need be, but he trusted himself better to make sure no one -specially not anyone augmented and/or a bit hot-headed- used the mage's body as a canvass for a marker graffiti.

Nick, whose past 'jobs' usually put him on the other side of the fence regarding this kind of activities, kept a straight and simply nodded when his pals commented on how ludicrous, stupid or confusing the plan was.

Same way you first beat the streets before you start Detectiving, Nicky Nick, you gotta accept the first s%&&ty jobs

In the end the payoff was good enough, and Nick intended to scout the place before just in case... not like the team couldn't simply doublecross the gangers if the run ended being a a drekfest.

"Yeah, Mister Johnson, we have a deal. And let's have a drink and prepare, Wraith, you are damn spot on."

Assuming Mister Ganger leaves after he says the last part

When the Johnson leaves, Sarge relaxes and turns to the others "I don't need to have a dog's nose, which I have, to smell the fishyness in here. If I've caught enough Mister Ganger wants us to basically be his gangers-for-hire. Not that I care, things tend to go ploint shaped even when they aren't fishy, but I suggest we do some intel work on the restautrid theatre of our own." Nick sips on his tea before turning to Tilt [b]"I know jackdrek about Runners' Etiquette, but I believe you giving us info on the Johnson is bad bussiness... how about we use our own ways to find it? Still bad bussiness? And what about, and believe me pal when I say this as a purely hypothetical question that yet could be considered plan C, betraying your contractors if and when they throw you under the bus for only a couple grands? Not that I want it to be that way, but better safe than sorry.

Well, tell Loup not to sweat it. I, for one, will be waiting with no complaint.

"Fancy place... Really fancy." Nick comments as he takes a seat.
The ex-PI didn't have too many clothes to choose from, in the end deciding to throw his long coat over a mostly clean white t-shirt and a relatively thin black hoodie in which you could still almost read B.P.D.
He didn't forget his firearm, though, one of the perks of having lead a mostly legal life was his ConCealed Carry License.
"Russian Caravan isn't my cup of tea." Nick commented with a chuckle at his pun "I'll have Earl Gray, no sugar, with cream and a splash of scotch. In a glass, not a cup."
And not a second before he did have his drink he finally made eye contact with the Johnson. "You look like a ganger. No offense nor complaint, pal, just stating the elephant in the room because I can't be the only one that expected a damn Suit with a mysterious suitcase and limey accent. With that out of the window... What must we know about the "

The ex-PI watched Mr. Ganger closely, trying to figure what he thought of the group and if he lied to them.

Negotiation:Sense Motive (Charisma): 8d6 ⇒ (2, 4, 5, 3, 4, 5, 5, 3) = 31

This has been a long absence, and only partially warned so... My most sincere apologies. Gotta give credit where credit is due: Geezer, I wish one day I'll be half as good as you are at this. Hugo and Vic rocked with their 'ludes, but you stole the show.

Sarge rolled on the bed when his commlink started beeping, his arm swiping over the night table tripping empty packs of cigarettes and a half-full bottle. "G~$##~mit, Nick, did you drink yourself stupid or something?" muttered the ex-PI as he crawled out of the bed and towards the device sitting by the sofa and beeping like a thunderous church bell.
Or is it the hangover, Nicky Nick? Not likr you've stepped inside God's House for a long time

After getting himself an extra Irish recaff and a pack of cigs from the kitchen, Nick sat at the couch to watch the trid. "Man got balls, gotta respect that..." he commented at the sight of the sword and mention of his career.

Later that day Nick was going through his third... Or it was fifth? Whatever. Nick was getting himself right and proper drunk at a pub when the text message arrived. "Anyone know how the hell do I change this thing's name? Whoever comes here first gets a round on me." he yelled dragging the words with a pasty voice.

After his nickname related dilemma was solved he answered.

SmellLikeTrollSpirit: Copy'd boss, send details.
SmellLikeTrollSpirit: The hell is that name? Motherdrekker is asking for it, give me a moment here...

Twenty minutes and a pair of mildly bloodied knuckles later Nick sat with a new pint and drew his commlink again.

Whisk3yInTheJ@r: Solved. When and where?

Oi mates! Sorry for my lack of posting these last few days. As I mentioned in other games you might be a part of (Hola Anya!) I got basically blackbagged by my family into a camping trip.

As it is, I managed to post on some games but couldn't get long posts. Tonight I return home and I'll be able to read the last five posts and post myself.

I won't even be sarcastic,
Nicky Boy, that was simply puzzling

"I'm not so sure, Paladin... gal looked terrified... and I'm not sure Wraith has the whole Flight or Fight thing." said Nick as he started walking towards the door, his cigarette leaving a trail of smoke as he loved "I'll go after her before she storms the place. Drinks here are too good to allow it"

Assuming I can get to her before she runs all the way to Colombia

The ex-PI walked towards Anya with his hands in his pockets, stopping a few steps from her. "Look, Anya, I don't know what the frag happened in there... You want me to buzz off? I will. You wanna talk about it? We talk about it. You wanna drink it all away? I know a place." Nick stepped closer and offered her the cigarette "But you don't need to run away alone, babe, not anymore."

A true Irish gentleman. Ma would be proud, Nick

As I won't be truly needing any more Recoil compensation than the one a Personalised Grip provides (perfect to cancel out the Semi-Auto recoil), the cyberarm can wait until nect mission... but that was pretty ominous, FNF.

Also, regarding Anya and Nick, assume he smiled when within the confines of his safe space -he only keeps a serious face when engaged in bussiness mode- and that he and Anya rode the motorcycle to the Green Rythm. Already suspected they were going to end like that, but didn't want to jump the trigger. That's Anya's schtick.

Sarge accepts the cigarette and lights it "Long story, Geezer, a hell of a story actually. But that's one I'd rather tell with some drinks, I will only say that it all starts with the fragging Shack blowing to pieces while I was picking up some Nodka(tm)."

"Anyway the job is fine, pays well and we did make a difference. Not the worst way to pay the bills, I tell you. But wait, you went through the alter? Oh amigo, I'm happy for you. And sad. Wish you the best of lucks, you'll need it."

I feel inspired, and I love me some interludes. Beware, longish one

Came morning... or midday actually, Nick brewed a huge cup of synthfee with extra caffeine and none of that I-Can't-Believe-It's-Not-Sugar drekk before heading towards the Green Rythm. Half drunk, half hungover but wholly aching, the thin rain cleared his mind and body.

But not your sins, Nick, ain't no luck for the Smiths...

"...unless they make their own." he muttered as he entered the place. The ex-PI politely nodded at Rory, a half smile showing.

Sarge 'scanned' the new recruits, exhaling a completely audible sigh as he hears the codename Rune coming from the priest-like elf "No offense intended, Rune, but you look like a mage and I've always had bad experiences with fragging mages. Having them by my side? That's new, amigo, and I hope it's neato." he says before turning to Tony.

I'll be going with Tony and Nick knowing each other from a couple transactions, mainly the motorcycle.

"Oh, boy, the world is small. The hell is Tony Geezer doing here? A new bussiness opportunity, I bet." before offering his hand to the orc.

"Where are my manners? Name's Nick, boyos, but call me Sarge when we are working. The others do the heavy work while I stay sharp and look menacing." he jokes.

A jest, Nicky Nick? These are strange times...

Yes, better get rid of the obsnoxiously illegal ammunition and simply get a huge handcannon.
I also decided to name it after Nick's exwife.

Now I only need o find an appropiate image, but this one is a good starting point.

Well, the pimp'd up ride will have to wait, because being one tough sonuva with a hell of a huge gun simply is costly.

This is what I decided I'll be purchasing, obviously rping it and/or acquiring the appropiate amigos to get them.

In any case, The Gun, looks good. Capable of semi auto bursts and with enough power and penetration to go through goons and thin steel plates alike. Such a piece of art.

I guess the real solution is we need to get Nick's arm blown off.

Only in Shadowrun, gentlemen.

I just remembered that I did look at chrome hands as part of Nick's backstory and subsequent partial reconstruction surgery, where he got some rad cybereyes and muscle enhancers, but I was running out of funds. So I had the following idea, that I'd like FNF to judge if it isn't stepping out of character:

Nick's in pain since the chemical incident. That's where his irish juice addiction come. If Paladin can solve that pain through cyberware, in the future I'll buy off the Quality (not now because I can't afford it) and Nick can become a whiskey lover instead of booze dependant.

If you can add a hidden flask to store some booze, I am game.

On a more serious note, I don't think Nick is the type to go willy nilly replacing limbs and such. Not yet, but probably later when the spooky begins. Is it possible to add such things in a non invasive or non cyborg way? There's plenty of Nuyen to spare even after paying some more months of rent.

That's it, if the Gas Vent 2 or 3 (which i was already looking at) is off the table. Oh, and gotta add a Smartlink to that.

Man, in all truth I simply want the hugest handcannon I can find without gimping myself into being useless. Something about technomagic era Dirty Harry just speaks to me on a spiritual level.

@FNF: I'll bank the Karma for now. I am eirher getting my Pistols or Body boosted later on, or going the Ambidextrous and dual wielding Warhawks. In any case, it ain't cheap so better start saving.

Regarding knowing other PC's - Maybe Nick knows him as a low-level street level peddler and thug. Anyone with a particularly s!+#ty car could've bought it from his lot, as well.

Well, I know who did sell me my bike, that's sure.

As a matter of fact, I didn't knew what to do with 34 grands and was considering buying a slightly bigger and better armored carriage. That and a bigger gun, but I don't think will be possible unless you can mod a Warhawk into being SemiAuto or there are heavy pistol mods to change the caliber to 0.Huge.

Sooo, Geezer, if I were on the look for a trusty ride capable of... hypothetically speaking... carrying around a team of Runners and a lot of heavy ordinance, what would you recommend?

"Always a pleasure, Ms. Muldoon. Just a word of wisdom: enjoy playing eith Basso, but don't expect him to spill anything. Cat's dumb as you can get, and most probably a puppet in someone else's payroll." Says the ex-PI... no, says the grizzled new Runner as he lights a lho-stick "Take care, whoever wanted you sleeping with the fish may try to geek you again."

Nick turns to the others with a smile "Now most of you boros sure want to get some gizmos, and probably highly lethal and equally illegal stuff." he adds looking at Anya "But I bet none of you would say no to getting hammered first, am I right? I say we earned it."

Glad to see you still have your priorities right, Nicky Boy

"Funny, Donny, that you mention robbed figures..." mentions Sarge as he lights a cigarette and offers one to Basso "Any other day of the week, a boyo with your history and a price tag over his head? I would call bulldrek and beat you for trying to sell me on that."

Here comes Sergeant Smith, the dreadful interrogator! C'mon Nicky-boy, show Basso the moves

The ex-PI relax a bit, walking up to Donny and passing an arm around the man's shoulders. "But I know you ain't lying to us. First because you are small time and I don't need to have a hound's nose to smell the drekk in your pants. You fear us, and I pity you because we are merely middlemen. And second, Gauntlet and I were at The Lumen... and they spoke of some cats in robes, making a fuss about moral purity and other New Age bulldreks."

Using Intimidation: Interrogation just to see if he spills anything new, though I'm happy with all this info.

Intimidation: Interrogation: 8d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 1, 3, 3, 6, 2, 5) = 24 2 Hits

Nick finishes his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and walks up to the others. "Call her, but tell her Donny is just a tool and they'll probably want us to dig deeper... Hoop fragging religious nutjobs, I'd seen my fair share and I'd rather wrestle with Rusky Mobsters, at least you know how the Ruskies gonna play it." he whispers to them.

Mobs at war, a Nutjob Cult and Fragging Wizards... Nicky Nick, pray Saint Michael your luck stops evading you now

I'm glad you reminded me... completely forgot to answer, in fact I was waiting.

I will post between tonight and tomorrow morning.

And I'll take the chance to widh FNF a nice time at the camp!

"Morning, princess, the knights have arrived to your rescue." jokes Sarge as he levels his gun on Basso and checks -for the tenth time since the team entered the building- his commlink.
"Now Donny, you are going to make it easy for us. Ya see, scumbag, we need ya alive... but the matter of kneecaps is a lot fuzzier."

Without stopping to aim Basso, Sarge turns his head to the others "We pick him up already or start the questioning here? This place sure would muffle any scream and this bastard owes us more than a few words."

Nick looks for the buzzing sound before realizing it comes from his commlink.
"Damned gizmos, I don't get used to them... you know, the whole my eyes are my PDA, my recorder and well, my eyes."

After reading the message, the private eye grins "Oi Sylvie, we got a lead on Basso. Looks like sleep is for the weak, we gotta work." he says before answering the message. <<"Copy'd Paladin, Gauntlet and Sarge returning to the group. We'll be there in twenty.">>

Well Nathaniel, thanks for the poke because I at least did miss your message (I was automatically doing the whole "Don't read the spoilers regarding the other players", only without the spoilers)

Missed Sylvie's post... I was still waiting, my apologies.

Nick laughs, not ironically nor intimidatingly, he simply laughs for the first time in months if not years "Stop Gauntlet, you will make me believe I fiund someone in the city worse at bulldrekking than me." he says as the laughter turns into a smile "I'm not one to judge, darling, and even if my job usually involves digging dirt from others I won't do that to a... pal. Don't worry."

Hey Nicky Nick, you almost used the F word there. you are getting soft, ain't ya?

Just to be sure, anything we wanna do or simply skip time to morning's meeting and planning?

Had to check to make sure I did write it -wouldn't be the first time I forget to add or edit something out without realising-

It was mostly an attempt to chat and get to know Sylvie better, perhaps start Shadowrun's version of classical campfire stories.

Bht take care, you let your guard down for a moment and the next a rugged ex-PI has seduced you! (Attemtp to bluff failed)

I am, indeed, just waiting on Sylvie to answer or something before fastforwarding a bit.

Missed Gauntlet's offer, I will pick up from there.

Nick turns to Sylvie and nods "My flat's further away, plus we shouldn't be alone least the Chromies track us or Donny mans up." says the ex-PI before tapping Paladin in the shoulder "If any of that happens... make sure Anya doesn't kill them all, we'd better interrogate them."

On the way to Sylvie's, Nick lights yet another cigarette -You run out of luck before running out of cancer sticks Nicky boy-
"Y'got me curious, who's this Devi? I thought Runners tended to be loners, buy I might have heard the wrong sources

Drekk son, this might end in bloodshed afterall...

Nick listened to Paladin without changing his stern face, but he knew better. Perhaps these chromies were smarter and kinder than average and accepted Sylvie's deal... or they might want blood because they were angry about Crusher's death.

In any case, Gauntlet and Sarge were in a tight spot, and tight spots weren't of Nick's liking.
With careful movements, Nick shifted his stance on the chair, resting his right hand over his legs where he could quickly reach his iron while his left hand rested over the table's edge.

"My most sincere condolences, boyos... this is bulldrekk, I know, but we'll deal with it. That's what we are good at."

Guess who forgot he read the updates but didn't answer himself?
That's right, your friendly detective.

Post's E.T.A. Tomorrow morning... aproximately, I'm bad at all this not being a dumbass thing.

Well Nix, I only got 14 die with my gun, but the DV sits at 5... which rekinds me that if anyone knows enough about the system to recommend me a bigger semiauto pistol for future purchases I'd gladly accept the advice.

Same goes for speshuuul ammo, as it didn't feel appropiate for an ex-PI to have all sort of fancy bullets and s@~*. Most probably he will simply ask Anya the next time both are involved ina gunfight 'What the hell did you put inside that bullet to blow that guy torso off?'

Sorry for the long absence boys, after I got my s+&% back on tracj I had a hell of posts to read... not counting having to get into the proper attitude to write Nick as I should.

The ex-PI nodded, having been silent the whole trip over to the Steak, trying to put two and two together and using his old hound brain to figure out any missing details.

As Sylvie entered the place, he lighted a cigarette and sharpened his senses. Mumbling, fake drunken ranting and a lot of yelling. That was Sylvie, of course... but even he had noticed the charade from outside so the Chromes would have too.

And then the metallic 'click', the all too familiar sound. With trained calmness Nick drawed his iron and checked the smartlink but as he was about to enter guns a-blazing to give his pal a way out he caught the final sentences coming from the one he supposed to be the boss.

A fight ended before it broke out, looks like your luck has turned for the better Nicky boy.

Casually holstering his gun as he moved closer to the troll, Sarge slightly bowed his head to the gangsters.

"Next time we switch toles, Big G. I may be an awful liar but you can bet your ass I'm a consumate drunkard." were the only words Nick said to his partners as his cybereyes moved from one gangster to the next, recording and archiving their faces for future reference.

"What brings us here you ask? For starters, unless you want to reconsider the whole 'Let's see who dies last' a whiskey would be nice, as well as a table and chairs to sit and speak. I hate standing in the middle of a room full of armed boyos." he said speaking in a clear, loud voice. The voice of someone who's been in the same situation before and is pretty much tired of this drekk.

The ex-PI walked to the closest table and sit there, eyeing the one he thought the leader as he lighted another cigarette "Name's Sarge and she's Gauntlet. And much to your sorrow she's right: drekk's about to hit the fan and we have the details... while you may have some information we desire. What about a gentlemen's truce and an exchange?"

Just in case, Negotiation
Negotiation: 4d6 ⇒ (3, 1, 5, 3) = 12

Will keep it as short as possible so you don't have to read my newest drama -not until it hits cinemas, of course- but I'm leaving at my sister's because my parents kicked me out and as such this last week has been a hell of a busy ride.

I'm fine, tho, just hard to come up with a nice post with all the job searching and moving stuff from one place to the other.

I will post in the couple hours, but sorry for not telling y'all at least a couple days ago.

And possibly me, because I missed the Bonding Meal (tm) plan -which I totally dig-

I will post later today!

"Well, Silvie, I trust him as much as any other snitch I've used in the past." says the ex-PI as he taps his holster from outside the coat "Which means I will make sure the iron's loaded the next couple hours... just in case, babe. That said, boyo is a dick but reli-fragging-able, so we can trust his information."

And sleep with Bertha under your pillow too, Nicky Nick. Just for gooooood measure

"We should check how well the rest of our amigos did, put a plan together and pray that nobody's double-crossing us. But f ya going to make a ruckus, you can count on me ladies... I'm an expert, want it r not."

Nicholas smiled at the sight of old Ben.
Bastard should have chosen another job. Too good of a heart, too clumsy of a hand. That's how you met him, Nicky Nick.

The ex-PI walked closer to the table, sitting where the dwarf was before signaling to Anya and Sylvie to make themselves comfortable "Benny boy, busy as always. Whatever you did, I'm not here for it! Hahahaha!" exclaims the tough man as he offers his hand to the elf.
"Don't fret Ben, me and my friends Wraith and Gauntlet only want to chat. And you know I swapped colours, blue didn't quite fit me. Now I'm freelance, Benny."

"Anyway, you gotta earn your bread and I hate the food here, so let's get straight to the point: Donny Basso and the Morellis, what are they up to? And for old times sake let's skip the part where you tell me you know bulldrekk. It's been too long and you know a big deal, so spit it."

Didn't want to sound condescending or insulting, Phin. Well, I did want to... But not, at least, for the mere sake of it. Lemme explain myself.

Nick's a rugged cop and last post was his half-assed attempt to support Phin opinion while still giving him a 'grow some balls' talk as he would do to a green recruit.

I mean, I would oppose to cold blood murder. But as I said, killing goons isn't that bad to him. Not if it's for a cause at least slightly just*.

*Getting payed so he can afford rent counts as just, doesn't it?

Nicky Nick listens intently. At first his face is as stern as always but as the discussion keeps going and no consensus is achieved, the ex-PI lights a cigarette and whistles to catch everyone's attention.

"Okay boyos, enough mumbling or you will make my head ache like all hell." he says with the authority that only long years as an officer can provide you with as he turns to Wraith "Wraith, darling, I can dig Professor Magick complaints. You seem too eager to pop a cap on any motherdrekker. A tad too eager to be honest, honey, but I won't complain to geeking those cats because, news flash!, they are mafia's henchmen and other kinds o'scum that I particularly enjoy sending to meet their creator." Sarge marks his last words as he turns to Phineas
"I get it, like the rest you got dragged into this because of your bad luck. But unlike us you used to be teacher of whatever in whatever school, while it seems we know how to handle ourselves under real stress far better."

Oi Nick, I'm but a figment of your inner s@+% and I'm already bored to death... get to the point already, Smithy Smith

After a long puff off his lho-stick and a dramatic pause -actually some mental blasphemies towards his sassy inner voice- Nick continues talking "But this ain't school no more, and I do believe that if you got the balls to conjure whatever eldritch sources you conjure to do whatever you mages do, you can grow another pair to swallow your doubts and carry on through this mission. If anything else because of the money, but if you prefer to look on the bright side of this task like I do, take into account that any cat we geek while looking for Basso will be a cat that isn't selling drugs, stealing wallets or shanking an innocent guy later this week. You dig?"

Sarge smiles, happy with himself and his speech. The man in the coat turns to the rest as he lets the ash fall in the ashtray "And yet I will stand up for Doc's ideals. There's a thin line that separates killing from murdering. I had killed, more times than I'd like, but I had never murdered in cold blood and I'd rather keep it that way. I know it's easier to break in, guns-a-blazing... but if we can we should try to plan things better and turn on the killswitch only if we really need it."

"How about I go meet my contacts and we plan everything out after? Trust you boyos will cool your heads and have some fresh air in the mean time, I wouldn't want to return full of hope to witness yet another fruitless drekkfest."

While the others ask Rory about Basso, Nicholas refills his drink. It's been a while since he called his pal in blue, and the ex-PI weighted the words before putting a call through his commlink.

Nicky Nick, he probs is patrolling now so leave a messagw, grab the extra muscle and go pay a visit to Snitch

After the third ring, Nick spoke clear through his commlink "Hey buddy, it's Nick. Need some help with a case so lets meet tomorrow at 6 pm in the sual place and we'll have a drink and chat."
Leaving the exact details to FFN, if you want me to come up with stuff I can too
Having dealt with it Nick returned to the rest. "Gauntlet, you comin' to see the Snitch? Anybody else who wanna come is welcome, but I'd rather keep the company small... don't want to draw unecessary attention on us, boyos."

Time to act, Nicky Nick

Sarge has been silent during the briefing, only giving his comm signal to the Muldoon's daughter and nodding as he recorded everything for later analysis with his chromie eyes.

Once the Runners are alone, the ex-PI turns to the rest and speaks as he lights a cigarette and finishes his drink"I finnae want to reveal the full cake with the cat here, gotta fully trust noone but yourself, but I know a couple boyos that can help us. One I can trust, pal from the corps, if there's anything they have on Basso he can get it for us. The other... well, Gauntlet can help me with him. Snitches are cowards and this one has been reliable out of his own brand of cowardice." Nick exhales the smoke and does a brief pause. "He may know about the Morellis, their bussiness and maybe he heard if they are preparing something big."

Nicholas inhales deeply brom his cigarette "Name's Nick." he says as he exhales the smoke "Sergeant Nicholas Smith, or former Sergeant. You boyos can call me Sarge."

"You go, man, tell them your SIN number too..."

"I am no strange to gunfights, can make a chummer tell us what he took for breakfast he wants it or not. I can also smell problems from a mile away but am not usually smart enough to dive outta way... or maybe I like to push my bad luck to the limit." he says, barely containing a smile as it seems everybody is giving his CV for a job interview. "And gotta couple good friends, wearing the blue and out in the streets... they may know if the Morellis are cooking up anything."

The exPi finishes his whiskey before adding "And Mama Smith blessed me with perfect memory, that's my only talent outside being a stubborn bloodhound."

Isn't it curious, Nicky Nick? A cop working for the mafia... no, wait, that's pretty much average, boyo.

Nick was holding himself the whole time, analyzing the situation. He didn't think they were in danger, but in the past he did try to stop these families from reigning the city. It is true that the Muldoon were pretty soft, good fellas even, if you compared them to others...

"Mister Muldoon, I understand that you know who I am from what you said, ain't it pal?" said the exPI while meditating internally "Let me correct it: who I was. I helped your daughter because that's what any redblooded boyo should do, and don't get me wrong but... Ah, drekk it. I'm in. I left the corps so damn much time ago, should have made my mind already." he blurt before lighting a lho-stick.

Way to go, Nicholas, words are your slaves hahaha! From blue to hound to shadow. Working for the Family to boot! Mama was right: Ain't no Smith boy who's up to no good..."

"Plus Gauntlet's right: whoever ordered that fragging hit on your daughter is a nutjob who needs some geekin'. Anyway, I hope my past doesn't stop you from trusting me, pal, I did like the irish juice and would love to taste more before I eventually bite it."

Also, Street Kn. Regarding the Muldoon as the rest did, but also wanna know bout the Morellis.

Street Knowledge: 7d6 ⇒ (5, 4, 4, 2, 3, 1, 1) = 20
Look at that! Ain't it a big pile o' drekk?

Too good to be true... a job offer... and free drinks? keep an eye open, Nicky Nick

The ex-PI smelled his drink as a true connoiseur, recognicing it as... well, alcohol. Nicholas sipped to taste it and smiled. "It sure isn't poison, that I am sure. he said to the distrustful troll

"Anyway, any more tradition we should know? Hopefully none involving us getting shot at, I expect." joked the man in the coat.

Nick strolls with the rest towards the pub entrance. The PI nods to Victoria as she is on sight, muttering a soft "Madame." as the group is together.

Nice place, Nicky Nick. Ya think they will have darts? It's been years since we play darts.

As the smack talk is laid down and Nathaniel explains his plan, Nicholas can but agree "Oi bo, I am down for some pool. First game free, second one the bets start. You dig?"

The man -and the legend- gives a quick scan of the place now that he is adjusted to the smoke and light.

Perception: 8d6 ⇒ (3, 3, 3, 2, 4, 1, 1, 1) = 18

But the only apparent danger he finds is the cigarette he is about to light.

Oi guys, I am at another city as of now, will post later today when I can have some alone time with my phone.

@FNF: Worry not about anything, college comes first. Relax and chill, man, I for one can wait ^^

Nick smiles at the overdose of energy Anya seems to have.
"I can ride my bike there, bos, so you will have more than 'nuff space." comments the exPI as he lights a cigarette "Anya, darling, is it necessary packing so much firepower for a friendly meeting in a public place?" he asks the chromie with a worried look.

Darling? Bwahahahahaha! Nick, you are a rusty old man. Whatcha trying to do, pal?

"But Doc may be right. Tis either a job offer or a bad disguised trap. In any case we should arrive early and plan a escape route. Don't want no open shootings today."

Couple rough days, will post tomorrow morning. Sorry for the delay, boyos.

I wouldn't say the speed of plot advancement is caused by you, FFN, but us trying to do too much even before knwoing what to do.

That said I am enjoying the game, the characters and myself. Greatly, I daresay.

Nick didn't have enough sleep. To be honest, having your convenience store blown over you, entering a gunfight with nutjobs and making friends with a group of wannabe runners means enough sleep would fall on the side of weeks.

But nonetheless he didn't have enough sleep and he was not happy about it.
Woke up with the wrong foot again? But, is there even a single right foot in you, Nicky Nick?

The ex--PI yawned his way towards the kitchen and heated some recaff. As the OriginalAroma(TM) filled his flat, the man checked the message on his comm.
"It seems at least part of the mystery is gonna be solved by itself." he said to himself "Let's do a 'Best Moments' before the meeting..."

He didn't exactly remind how to manage his eyes yet, but thirty minutes and a hundred blasphemies later he was reviewing the images his implants caught of the saved elf. The ex-PI made a point of remembering every bit of detail about her before going outside and directing himself towards Stoobie's. He was tired from the long night, his right knee did wake up with nasty instincts, and as so he took a cab.

During the ride he tried to piece together whatever passed as the clues they found the night before. A hit squad of tools, trying to take an elven lady and her baby. Zealots may be involved. Then there was his 'companions'. A bunch of locos with even crazier parts.
The hyperactive chromie, doessn't rings a bell Nick?

His drowzy train of thoughts got interrupted by the driver saying they arrived. After paying, Nick walked to Stoobie's door and knocked three times.
"Sarge here, I got news, bos."

Nick said "Sylvie, wait a moment!" before finishing and paying for his whiskey. Smiling and thanking the bartender for his help, the ex-PI walked up to Sylvie and outside the Lumen.

"I'll head home too." Sarge commented with his melee-happy companion as he produced a cigarette and lighter, which he promptly used "We should all meet there tomorrow at Stoobie's and discuss our findings. I don't like that drekk 'bout damned zealots. Not in the slightest. Anyway, good night Sylvie, don't let the muttroaches bite you."

As his last words drifted in the air, the ex-PI turned back and waved his hand as a farewell. The troubled man disappeared in the dying night, his
smoke merging with the close-to-dawn mist & smoke from the city...

To be continued... after we move on the plot ^^

I wasn't going to add anything, Sylvie did a neat-o job here. Should have said so, my fault fellow totally notshoggoths.

Nick simply drinks his whiskey slowly, mentally noting down the details.

What the hell are we stepping into, Nicky Nick? Hooded zealots? What do they think this is, a black and white spooky trid?

Nick waits for the bartender to answer his questions, maybe the bouncers have any more useful info.