Cutters, huh? Sorry, they don't usually come down this close to Glow City. Their turf's more northwest a here, towards Touristville. Mebbe Gyro knows a guy, can ask him."
Seeing Red's attention go to the APDS rounds, Tarnish calls up the Ares advert, showing a bunch of military/CorpSec types running around punching holes in steel.plate targets.
"Yeah, them little fraggers will mess you up. If yer going up against armor, pretty much can't beat 'em. A course, the old zappers tend to pack a wallop, too. Typically leave a lower body count, too. If that's a concern a yers, a course."
"No prob. Regular JHP rounds, or something more exotic? I got plenty of pistol ammo, just pick em up in the drop box on yer way out."
"Yeah, no prob omae. Slot yer creds and I'll get ya da piece easy 'nuff."
Just like Jinx's purchaes, the Svalette Guardian emerges from a port in the glass wall, cased nicely and ready for action (after loading it with bullets, of course).
"The guy called himself Simon, never got much more than that. Human, maybe 30, maybe a bit younger, he wore a cheap suit with an armored jacket. Decent shoes and watch, nothing that stood out though. Came by with the details, and had his boys wait outside the Mall with the goods. Gyro's crew helped move the merch inside once we finished the deal."
Another ARO window opens, showing the image of a medium build human man wearing a dark grey suit and carrying a worn metal briefcase. Dark haired, his glasses obscured the camera enough to prevent you from seeing his eye color.
"Ya'know, ain't my biz what ya'all are gettin' up to, but this fella seemed awful cool and collected for a guy who just boosted gear off a syndicate. I'd watch my back around him, chummers."
"Yeah, chummer, couple a' boxes a' gear came my way. Fellow called me up outta da blue, said he had a line on some stuff that was fallin' off the back of a truck. I said sure, lemme know when ya got it and I'll take a look. Strictly biz, ya know?" As he's talking, the AROs on the glass start to move a bit, a window irising open.
"Shipment turned out ta be MERF drops. Dunno how the guy got his mitts on 'em, didn't ask. Wasn't too good a negotiator, got the merch for a decent price." Tarnish grins at the memory before continuing. "Bought the pair off tha guy, turned out to have a decent selection of pieces and plenty of spare parts. Also plenty a' ammo, specially gel rounds for some damned reason. Figured it was too good ta be true, and I wasn't disappointed, obviously."
The window shows a pair of plasteel containers, about a meter or so long and half that tall and wide. Large white stenciled letters spell out MERF on the top and side, while a serious looking maglock secures the lid. Graphics zoom in on the maglock, showing what turns out to be an RFID tag.
"Thing had a tracer on, a' course. Nothing high-powered so it couldn't transmit more'n a couple hundred meters, tops. But enough to get my interest goin'. So I got a hacker friend to backtrace the signal, dug out a commcode and gave it a ring. The voice seemed surprised to hear someone call about missing MERF boxes, especially calling on the code I did." His smile vanishes and a serious business demeanor crosses his face.
"I dunno 'zactly who I was talkin' to, and I don't particularly wanna. The code was definintely local Seattle LTG, so long as they didn't bounce it here and there, and it was pulled from the 'trix bout as soon as I hung up. Long story short, the fellow I bought the crates from boosted it from the folks I called, and they weren't too happy with that. Figured it'd just be a matter a' time til some team or other came by ta ask about it. Just to be clear, they told me I could keep the merch."
He leaves the ARO open and flags it to be available for copy/store if you so desire.
"As to the Guardian, yeah, I got one ready to rock and roll. Got another one currently stripped and on my bench. Even got a concealed holster for it, took it in trade actually. You interested?"
Anyone with Seattle Area Knowledge, Politics, or Sprawl Life (Seattle) can feel free to roll it. I don't think any of you are orks or trolls, correct?
"Decent choices, my good man. Quality little pocket pistols. I dunno how big of a hole they'll put in your targets, but at least you can carry them easy 'nuff." Two small plastic boxes emerge from a concealed port on the side of the glass wall. Opening them up, you see two very nicely packed pistols in cut-foam carrying cases, with their magazine slotted alongside them.
"Shipment, huh? Lemme guess, bunch of plasteel crates gone missin'? And ya'all are the team sent to retrieve 'em? Whatchu know 'bout the goods, and who they got lifted from?"
Available items include: every core pistol, as well as the Colt Special Agent, Savalette Guardian, Colt Manhunter, Fichetti Executive Action, Cavalier Deputy, and a sawn-off Defiance T-250. Also, pretty much all the ammo types for pistols & shotguns, and a selection of gel rounds for SMGs, Assault Rifles, and Sporting Rifles. Jinx: take that ¥500 you slipped Tarnish off the purchase price of the hardware - he's not gonna charge you to enter just to sell you some guns.
"Uh...I dunno where he's stayin' now, but..." the rat-burger vendor looks side to side, as if nervous someone may be eavesdropping. Seeing no-one around, he continues in a lower voice, "He been squattin' on da edge a' Glow City, workin' outta his van down there. Gots some kinda job wit' a demo-crew or som'tin. Anysways, give 'im a ring, let'im know Stevie gave ya da code. Name's Jimmy, he'll hook ya up."
He slides a virtual business card your way, automatically picked up and stored on your credstick (or commlink if that's how you payed him). It simply reads "Cuzin Jimmy" and has a commcode to, presumably, reach him.
Approaching the end of the hall, you spot a handful more Gypsies, lounging around, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of oversized glass bottles. Unlike the ones out front, these all wear holstered pistols at their hips. You make out the stocks and grips of a few larger weapons conveniently stashed, just out of sight. Gyro must have called ahead, and the gangers nod slightly to you as you pass.
Tarnish's shop (identified only by a moderately large "OPEN" sign in both physical neon and ARO) takes up two or three of the previous storefronts. Only one door remains, with solid concrete blocks and metal security grates over them standing in the other openings. A very obvious security camera swivels over the door as you walk up.
11d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 6, 2, 3, 6, 2, 1, 6, 5, 5) = 46 Tarnish Perception
A voice calls out of a speaker by the door, surprisingly clearly and without static, "Judging from your hardware, I'm guessing you ain't here to buy a piece. Ammo I got, and some 'nades, but any specialty gear or 'exotic' finds, I'm gonna need creds up front. No offense and all, just biz, ya know?". A face appears on a trid screen next to the speaker. An older human male, probably in his late 30s or early 40s, his face carries a number of scars and a scruffy beard. Head shaved, his left shoulder glints just at the bottom of the frame with the sheen of a metallic cyberarm.
"So, what'll it be, chummers?"
Picture of Tarnish
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