The DV8's


So, I’m at Reno’s, in Downtown Seattle with Doc & Scratch looking for a job. It appears that we may be out of our element, but Big Stan said they’re is a good chance that I can find employment here. Well, we need the cred, so we’re in. We’ve been here almost 2 hours and I’m about ready to call it a night, when a light touch on my forearm catches my attention. The hand that ‘brushed’ by is attached to a shapely figure, but probably too business for any pleasure, from the look of her.

She asks is we’d like to hear a business proposition, and leads us to a corner booth farther away from the throbbing music. Before my ass is even in the seat, she starts a rapid-fire sales pitch. This ‘ Ms. Johnson’ is looking for some strapping young lads to get back some state-of-the-art prototype simsense chips that was stolen from her boss, Urlan Manes, the CEO of Global Technologies. She requests that we meet her again, at The Banshee later this evening for more information. After we agree, she quickly departs, with her bodyguard, a Street Samurai in tow. At the bar, a dingy man who was watching us from the bar, quickly finishes his drink and not-so subtly follows them. Doc probes his mind and ‘hears’ that he knows the time of the next meeting and that he can ID who she was talking to.

We make it to The Banshee in record time for those limited to traveling by taxi. Inside, it quickly becomes more apparent that this is more of a meeting place than an actual bar that is frequented for drinks and romantic trysts. We ask for Urlan and are directed to a door at the far end. Beyond this door is a more private bar where our ‘ Ms. Johnson’ is waiting. She brings us through yet another door, and soon we find ourselves sitting in a room with plain wooden chairs surrounding a table, and a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Very professional. At one end if the table is a large Native American, who identifies himself as Urlan Manes, and is the CEO of Global Technologies, and the ‘Ms. Johnson’ is is aide, Roxanne Wunter.

It appears that he had 3 prototype SimSense chips stolen yesterday with the assistance of their star programmer, known informally as, Tee Hee. While in the process of negotiating our fees, we are interrupted when a large, well dressed orc enters the room. Noting against orcs, they just look out of place when they are dressed up. I feel that I look like that when I used to have to wear my dress uniform. From the looks exchanged between him and Urlan Manes, they do not appear to be too happy to see each other. This orc is identified as, Junior, some division manager at Global Technologies. He taunts Urlan about the loss of the chips and the betrayal of Tee Hee, before departing.

Roxanne Wunter provides with what information they have on Tee Hee. Apparently, he has been behind on his rent and was kicked out two weeks ago, so they have no idea where he had been staying since then. All they have is the contents from his desk, which we pour out on the table; a toolkit has an inscription that reads “Future Good Luck, Flair”. A holocube has eight pictures most of which are Tee Hee and probably his geek friends, while one picture stands out as Tee Hee is not in it. The picture is of a white haired man, holding a coffee cup that reads “Flair”. The caption on the picture reads Dr Hendrix. A package of tea’s who’s label states it is from , Orion’s Organic Grocery, on Cascade Road, in Redmond.” Finally a lighter is decorated with a circuit board pattern (more geek stuff), with the inscription, “ Breadboard Quaff & Stuff” are the only items of note. She makes the request that Urlan would like Tee Hee back, preferably unharmed. Do we do ‘unharmed’?

Before we leave, we bump into a man coming out of the arcade. He seems disoriented, and mumbles kinda incoherently at us. Being in a bar, we do not find that surprising. We offer to but him a drink for knocking him over and after a few moments of lucidity, we are discover that he is not drunk, but rather just spacy. He calls himself Chips. He seems to be a dekker, and he offers to help us while hearing us discuss our job. He says to give him a call if we need any info. Puzzling as he is, we note his number. He could come in handy.

We discover that both the Breadboard Quaff & Stuff & Orion’s Organic Grocery are next to each other on Cascade Road, so we head there. Wow, do we not fit in. Everyone here is a geek teenager with his head plugged into a terminal staring blankly at a screen. We ask around to see if anyone knows Tee Hee or this Hendrix/Flair guy and don’t really get any answers. Eventually we are told that Dr Hendrix frequents this place, but hasn’t been here in a few days. We opt to wait and hope that one of them arrives, and as luck would have it, Dr Hendrix soon shows up. We tail him back to his place and are soon knocking at his door. he opens the door and lets us in mostly against his will, we see a zoned out decker at a table, jacking off, er jacked into the the Matrix. When roused from non-reality, Tee Hee fesses up that he was paid to do this, and identifies the rest of the thieves, a coordinator called, The Historian, a rigger pilot, Val, an elven mage, Freya and a Street Samurai, Griffin. All he know is that The Historian kept the chips, and that the mage, Freya was injured in the theft, left behind. He tells us that these chips are called Genghis Khan, Cleopatra & Jack the Ripper. We leave him and call Roxanne, telling her that we found Tee Hee and where he is. She tells us to meet back at the Banshee this evening. We ask around the street and discover that an elf matching Freya’s description checked in at Dr Bob’s Quickstitch, a short hike from the robbery.

We get to the Quickstitch but we are stonewalled getting in. Even punching Scratch in the face to break his nose with the hope of getting admitted doesn’t work. We do, however, get the attention of a man there who seems impressed that we are hardy looking runners and want to join our little entourage. We are getting nowhere, so why not – more heads, more ideas. Eventually cred become the means of communication, and a little bribery gets us in to see Dr Wilmoth. More bribery later, he says that he did treat Freya, but wanted to make sure that we weren’t looking to kill her. Sure noble of him. He shows us where she is resting. A recovering Freya seems to be a little mad that she was left behind. She wastes no time in crucifying all the thieves that she is aware of. Hell hath no fury like an elven mage left behind a robbery, I guess. Upon our exit, an ambulance arrives with an unidentified body in tow. We overhear the EMTs saying that this is the third Joyboy that they have found savagely attacked in this fashion. Peeking over their shoulder, ‘in this fashion’ means with a vicious bladed weapons, and with great effort to inflict maximum damage. Drek, some people’s kids…

Later that evening we meet Roxanne back at the Banshee. We are updating her on the deets that we have gathered when shots ring out at the entrance. Junior strolls in with a few guards in tow and begins firing at us and Roxanne. Oh Drek, not what I we were expecting. We return fire at the rate volume that we’re happy with – excessive volume. A couple of grenades shred his flunkies and Roxanne of all people, snaps of a shot from the smallest pistol I’ve seen in a while and taps ol’ Junior right in the head. I didn’t even know that she was carrying. We dig through Junior’s stuff and, Jackpot! His pocket secretary contains information on Junior’s initial meeting with Pengrave, A CEO of Hollywood Simsense Entertainment, a rival company of Global Technologies, his recruitment of Tee Hee, and his subsequent contacts with Pengrave and Cooperman, also known as the Historian. Sprinkled through these meetings is information about the rigger pilot, Val, and the street samurai, Griffin. The secretary has recorded that “Val is running Cleo, and Griffin’s messed up with Jack the Ripper.” Like I said, jackpot. We apologize for the mess, and get out of there before Scratch remembers he has more grenades.

Junior had an invive to some geeky-tech gala at Pengrave’s place, and since he was working with Cooperman, we decide to crash the party. Well, the security was so tight I damn near had to take off may arm to get in, but we have the invites that Junior left behind, so we get in. It doesn’t take long to find this Pengrave’s fellow, he is the host after all. With him is a woman, who we hear refereed to as Val. It sounds like we’ve found the rigger pilot. She moves through the crowd like a goddess, not a geek who likes tech more than people, and is intoxicating to those around her. We were thinking that perhaps the chips dominated one’s personality, and this seems to be in-line with Cleopatra, so we follow them out of the party and to a boat docked at the marina.

We stow on board just as they were pulling out and chase them down. They make a mistake and pull weapons on us, and I react instinctively, killing them both. I knew that they were civvies, not trained soldiers, but I reacted when they drew down on me. Well, we retrieve the chip that is plugged in her head, and pay dirt, it says Cleopatra. I guess that we were right on the personality thing.

We hear of another Joyboy brutally killed on the streets of Redmond and agree that this certainly could be the work of this Grif the Ripper, and vote Scratch most likely to stand out as a ringer Joyboy with the intent of luring out Griffin. At least if Griffin attacks Scratch, he can defend himself. Scratch calls us all sorts of names and theatens go kill us for putting him up to this, but reluctantly he agrees. Hey, I figure this is fair for the stunt that he pulled on me in Lisbon. We pretty up Scratch and send our wolf amid the sheep.

Several hours later, much to the frustration of Scratch, we have not seen hide nor hair of Griffin, although Scratch has turned away several interested would-be clients. We are stashed down the road in a coffee shop keeping an eye on him, when a raspy voice breaks his mutterings. Before we can get out the door, Scratch is yelling “It’s him!”, followed by “Arrrrgh!” We double-time it down the road to see a heavily chromed man standing over Scratch, with his cyber spurs dripping blood. I advance firing at him. He takes a burst, and staggers but raises his arm to strike at Scratch again, when a shot from down the block and to the right of us spins Griffin back. It appears to be quite a caliber as he my smg burst didn’t seem to slow him. From behind, Doc hit him with some mojo, and he falls. Teamwork, I like it. We get to Griffin & Scratch to see that Scratch will make it. He is quite wounded, but Doc patches him up well enough to get gone. I confirm that Griffin is R4, and pull a chip from his datajack. No surprise, it says ‘Jack.’ I pocket it as we are met by a petite young woman, maybe 18, who is slinging a hefty rifle over her shoulders. Not what I was expecting, I’ll be honest. She calls herself Crimson Shadow, and says that she was ‘hunting’ down someone attacking the local joyboys. She saw Griffin attack a joyboy (our mole), and deducted that was the attacker. Several people have now come out of the local shops and are happy to hear that the murder spree is over. We hear sirens in the distance, and agree that we should not be around when Lonestar gets here. We offer Crimson Shadow a cut in our reward, if she is interested in helping. She seems intrigued with our little operation here, so she agrees. Before we are able to get out of here, we are almost ran over by a van. From out of the van, an attractive elven woman with silver hair and a killer smile spring out at me. She asks if we are the ones who ‘stopped the murderous rampage that was terrorizing the streets?’ Well, we did, so I half-ass answer yes. She then asks for my name, to which I tell her Pariah without much consideration. Scratch snarls for me to get my ass in here so I kinda shrug at the woman and get in and we head out. In that car, Scratch seems kinda pissed at me. When I ask why, he asks why I would be talking to a reporter. Drek. You know, I probably shouldn’t of done that now that I think about it. Well, what’s done is done.

There has been quite a bit of chatter on the streets about uniting gangs in Renton some talk of a big not-so secret meeting of the gangs at a warehouse. We decide to sneak in there a little early by posing as gang members and see what is there. We get in and hide out in a large warehouse. To ensure an exit, we discover a drain that runs under the building and exits a few blocks away. After a few hours the yard is teeming with gangers, so the drain seems to be the safe exit. We position ourselves in the warehouse and are soon present to a meeting of the minds, so to speak. A well dressed man, clearly not a ganger stands on a podium, near me and scratch while other gang leaders of Blood Rumblers, Red Rovers and Spike Wheels are watching him and cheering his little tirade on. He goes on and on about them once being divided and now that they are united, that they are unstoppable and with this new force they will crush their enemies in The Barrens. Crimson Shadow says that she has him zeroed, so she takes the shot and he drops him in mid-rant. The gangers are so mesmerized that they spend a scant few seconds in complete shock at his unglorified corpse collapses in front of them. We turn that stunned silence into our advantage and open fire at them. Scratch wraps a chain around the outer door, while I retrieve yet another chip, this labeled ‘Kahn,’ and Crimson Shadow, Doc and Yin kill off the rest of the gang leaders. We now hear the yard full of gangers beating down the door, so we double-time it to the grate. I drop smokes to cover our exit and the door is rendered from it’s hinges. We emerge a block or so away in an alley. We cover the grate here with a large dumpster and get our asses out of there before all of Redmond is chasing us.

We call Roxanne and tell her that we have all three chips. She says she’ll meet us at the Banshee in an hour. We get there and notice that the Banshee has already stated renovating. They have a new bouncer who lets us in and we are quickly ushered into the back room. Roxanne and Urlan Manes are already there. They quickly gets down to business. We exchange the chips for the nuyen. They were also kind enought to add in the bonus for getting Tee Hee returned, unharmed as asked. I look at the crew that now stands around me. They are not soldiers, but they are fighters, that is for sure. I could get used to this.

Food Fight

Lemme tell you how I met Zany

I am just hanging out with Red, Doc, Scratch & Yin at the apartments, just arguing about anything and everything, when Scratch announces that he is heading to resupply smokes and beers. Like any friend, we all shout our requests to him of what we need picked up while his is out. After he tells us to go frax ourselves, so we get up off our collective asses and pile in available rides to head down to the Stuffer Shack and resupply our dwindled eats and drinks.

We get to the Stuffer Shack and take off in different directions as fast as we can. There is around a dozen people here shopping for whatever. I make it to the Hawt-n-Ready Make it Yerself Pizza® turntable, and start piling on the Jalapeños when I stop dead in my tracks. Sitting on the counter across from me is a stunningly beautiful woman with a skimpy pair of cut-offs, a lacy halter top and a leather jacket with a skull with a icicle in one of it’s eyes on the back patch. Probably some band logo, I guess. As I am sitting there, about ready to drop the “You come here often” line, while trying to blatantly ignore Scratch yelling at me from across the Shack, asking me if he already bought ‘The Bat, the Cat and the Hey What’s That? Vol XI,’ Ultra XXX SimSense chip, when a scream from the teller breaks my concentration, followed by the firing of a shotgun. As expected, that has a pretty normal effect. People run, people scream – chaos ensues. In the front door come three dudes waving their guns around like they are patriotic flags. One of them shouts something about being king of the sprawl and collecting taxes. Hmm, they also have the skull with the icicle in the eye patch. Seemingly less like grouples more like a gang, me suspects. I don’t need to look up to see what the others are going to do as I draw my gun and fire at the clown with the roomsweeper.


So, I get a call from Tovarich, and says that there is a job for us is we are interested. He;s not sure of what it is, it is one of those friend of a friend of a friend jobs.  We need to do is meet with our potential employer at Club Penumbra tonight.  Penumbra?  Wow, that is like the elite of Clubs there.  All the celebrities have their shindigs there when they are slumming in Seattle. We load up in our respective rides, and make haste to the Club.  After muttering some secret password, just to gain entrance, we find ourselves looking into a spacious dance floor.  I thought that I saw Grey Samuelson from Seventh Deadly Sin out there on the dance floor – his mohawk is unmistakable, but we are quickly directed away from the floor proper, and ushered up some stairs and into a long hallway.  At the far end of the hallway, is a single door, with a dwarf standing in front if it facing it like he is waiting to be called into the principal’s office. We line up behind him like we are waiting to use the bathroom, when the door opens up and we are all gestured in.  Sitting at a table in the room, is a nervous, twitchy man, who calls himself Mr. Johnson.  He wastes little time, before offering us 20k each for doing something for him.  He asks us to retrieve a briefcase that he ‘left behind’ at some TekLon company’s lab, called the Pit, in Auburn.  He provides a map of the research lab we’ll be breaking into, and a soft spot for us to get in, and a window with no one there.  Once we have the briefcase, we will exchange it for another case with some elven woman, and return that case back to him.  But the theft has to be done tonight.  It sounds like a lost of covering one’s tracks, He ups the ante by saying that there is also some sellable electronics in the lab that we could fence off for some additional incentive.  We could all use the cash, so we agree and head out of the club.  Dude, it hurts being this close to here, but not able to go in to the club itself, but duty calls.
While outside, we realize that the dwarf at the door was ahead of us is still with us.  Mr. Johnson must’ve assumed that we were all together.  He introduces himself as Drake, a rigger by trade, and cordially offers us a ride to our collective job.  Well, since we are being paid 20k per head, none of us are losing any money on having a designated driver with us, we don’t see why not.  I mutter to Doc that perhaps with two dwarves, they can now earn one normal-sized paycheck.  The scowl from Scratch I deserved, the cheap shot to my solar plexus, I did not.  We warmly welcome him into our little fold, by having him drive us to the sewer system that connects to the Pit.  We get there with no problems, and proceed cautiously down the sewers.  Between the Orc Underground and giant sewer rats, I’m not taking any chances, if it moves, I’m sure as hell gonna shoot it.  Thankfully, we move through the sewers unobstructed and end up at the portion of the wall that he said we can get through.  He had given is some spray that would dissolve the wall, just like that.  Just in case, I brought a few kilos of C-4 and det cord – not that I didn’t trust him and his magical spray.  But, sure as hell, it worked.  Moments later, we emerge in a broom closet  Boy this shit would’ve been handy back when I was with Tank’s daughters, I may have made is out of there without getting caught. 
We see some security cameras, but they do not appear to be online.  It appears that Mr. Johnson is also right about taking care of security.  We have some of the doors still maglocked, but Red easily bypasses them, as we move through the building towards some labs in the back.  We find the lab near a large garage-style steel door.  On one of the counters in this room is a briefcase, with a starburst logo one that Red identifies as NovaTech’s logo.  We scoop up the case and head back the way we came.  From behind the garage door comes the sounds of explosions and small-arms fire.  Drek, that can’t be good.  We proceed most rocky-tick towards out little hole in the wall.  One immense echoing thud is heard from behind and I look back to see a massive dent in the door.  That wasn’t an explosion – that was something impacting into that into that door.  That looked like a huge fist to me. Whatever it is, it wants in, and we want out.  We double-time it back out, as the pounding on the door increases. I drop a claymore on a stairwell to cover out escape, and we quickly make it back into the sewers.

Explosions and helicopters are now being seen over the area that we just left. This is a full-scale assault we are leaving in our dust, what in the hell did we just get away from? Once in the van and heading away from the site, we now pass several Lone Star and DocWagon vehicles heading towards the site as we try to casually drive that other way. We call Mr. Johnson, and he seems relieved that we made it out of there. He tells us to not open the briefcase, for it is probably trapped, and that he’ll call us back shortly for details on the exchange. We get a call back while restocking eats at a Stuffer Shack. He says that we have two hours to get to 100th and Main in Bellevue, and that our contact is an elven female, Elizabeth Chavez. He tells us to call him back once the exchange is made, and again, he reminds us to not open the case. We speed there to get prepped, in case things don’t go as planned. Red hops up on a roof for overwatch, Drake and Doc wait in the van about half a block away, while Yin, Scratch and I wait at the intersection, for Elizabeth. I feel kinda bad for Doc, it smells like bad broccoli in there. Two hours pass, and no sign of her, so we give her an other five. Maybe traffic at oh-two hundred is bad? Doc is about to call him to see where she is, when we spot a car coming down the road. Drek, it is swerving all over the road, all out of control, and crashes into the light post right where I was standing moments ago in a spectacular sound of tearing metal and a horn that just won’t die. I peek into the car and see the bloodied remains of an elven woman at the wheel. The car is a mess of gunfire, mostly from above. Above? Seconds later the sky is lit by two helicopters overhead. Drek, I didn’t even hear them approach. With spotlights covering the car and the intersection, tether lines pour out and stream down towards the ground. Doc blasts one of the helis with his mojo, sending four of the occupants out of the chopper and plummeting to the ground below, while Scratch and I try to keep them pinned on the far side of the car. They are all garbed in blood-red armor, and swords resembling Samurai from the old trids. Drek, these dudes are Renraku Red Samurai! Word is that these guys are top of the food chain bad-asses in the corporate sector. I move in to try and grab the case, along with a pocket secretary on the seat next to her, as Yin moves in to fight the soldiers on the ground. Yin kung-fu’s a few of them down, but they do not seem fazed. They simply overpower him and shoot him, straight as an arrow, right in the head. Drek. We call evac, as I try to get away from the car. I drop smoke grenades as Drake plows into the intersection, taking a quick left and picking me and Scratch up. Red hops down from the roof, with a not-so-nimble thud, lands on the top of the van and we tear ass out of there. Drake pops up a UAV and scans the scene behind us. There is no way we can get to Yin, and the case we he was carrying for the exchange. There is already another heli hovering and a van is now pulling up. Coming out it is … holy slot! A monstrous metal thing, like a cyborg over 8-feet tall, with a huge third arm attached to it’s back. It is arched over his head like a scorpion’s tail. I bet my last nuyen, that fist on there was what was knocking down the door at TekLon. Doc tries to call Mr. Johnson, but the phone just rings and rings. Drek. We scan the secretary. In it, she references someone by the letter ‘N’, some talk about swapping and then exchanging cases, and then her last entry says ’Payout at 3844 Belmont Ave, Code 68GTH773KN1. This case is hot, and we are not losing anyone else over it. We agree to head to the Bellmont Ave address and get someone to pay us for the work.

Before we get into Downtown, I call Tovarich. He says that he does not know where the job originated, but it sounded like easy money. He apologizes that we were misled, and says that he needs me to stop in and pick up something help us out. When a Russian offers you help, you take it. We detour to Renton and Tovarich is waiting for us at his shop. He opens the back door and out comes a huge, immaculately dressed troll. Tovarich says that he is a friend, who needs friends while he is in town for a while. This troll, speaking in a broken English, identifies himself as Byk. We tell him that we are on fubar mission that we are trying to salvage, and get some payout on. He says he is willing to go along, but needs a moment to get ready. He goes into the back room and returns with an huge auto cannon that he is carrying like an assault rifle. Now, he is ready, he says.

We arrive at a tall, new-looking building downtown, with no logos or anything of the like. The front door opens with the code from the PDA. In the main lobby, sits an open and inviting elevator. Once in the elevator, we see that there is only one button, marked ‘Penthouse’, so we push it and are quickly brought up several levels until the elevator stops and the door opens into a well-lit spacious office. There are three men there, our Mr. Johnson, looking like a man about to be executed, and two other men. Both of them are carry the air of corporate professionals. One of them, with the appearance of a predator, warns us against the use of any of our weapons while we are here. He doesn’t look imposing, but his presence speaks clearly. The other man, sitting in a chair next to Mr Johnson, introduces himself as Richard Villiers, the president and CEO of NovaTech, and his intimidating associate is Miles Lanier, the head of his security. He offers us drinks and then gestures to the NovaTech case we took from Chavez and asks us how his property came into our possession. We lay it all out for him, and he listens courteously. At the end he takes the PDA and after reading it, he takes a moment to explain the situation that we are now in.

Evidently, our Mr Johnson, or Nigel is a corporate espionage-assassin for NovaTech who was infiltrating TekLon. It turns out that he was also selling secrets to Renraku on the side. He was caught by a fellow NovaTech employee, Elizabeth Chavez, who took the case of secrets that Nigel stole from NovaTech to sell to Renraku. If his bosses got the case she stole from him, it would expose his dual employment. So he hired us to get the case that he was trading with her and arranged a meet with her, but Renraku intercepted and killed her. After that, Lanier simply walks up behind Nigel and shoots him in the head with a silenced pistol. Lanier then takes the credsticks from Nigel’s corpse and tosses them onto the table, and Villiers offers them to us for the cases. We give them the case, and scoop up the credsticks. He opens case, and it is full of data disks, presumably the data that Nigel stole from them to sell to Renraku. Lanier returns from the other side of the room, where he was looking at some monintors. He mutters something to Villiers, who then looks at us and asks is for a small favor. Apparently, Renraku must have followed us here for they are now amassing outside. He needs us to run interference with Renraku, so they can get away unscathed. Although he doesn’t have the money on hand, he assures us that he is more than good for it. Being that this man could probably purchase all the the CFS and still have cash left over for NutraBurgers, we agree that it wouldn’t be a bad man to have owe us a solid one.

We head down into the garage and they enter a all-black Westwind. Sports cars aren’t my thing, but this beast looks boss. Lanier tosses Drake a key, and gestures over at a large van. ‘Take it,” is all that he says. No need to tell Drake twice, he is in it before we even register that he gave us a van. We pile into the van as we see a blockade of vans in front if the exit. Red Samurai are all around the cars, and look ready for war. “Hang on” is all the Drake says as the van speeds forward at a breakneck speed. I’d tell you what happened but Drake’s evasive driving left all is us being thrown around the back of the van like rag dolls, and I could not tell a crash from Drake plowing through anything with Byk sprawled over my head. With the exception of a few bullet holes and some repair work on the front of the van, we made it through the barricade and opened up a path for Villiers and Lanier to get out. Once on the street, they sped away at a speed that I wasn’t aware was even possible. We took some cuts and turns to ensure that Renraku is not following us, and speed back home. I hope that they remember us, we all could sure use a favor from time to time.

Site of Desecration

Hired by ? to babysit exchange of goods to ?
..oh yeah, I have a date…

They were shot down by local enemies, but we rescue them.

Their merch was stolen by (above) – we head to their camp to retrieve it.

Almost TiSKd by a magician, who turns out to be something elemental?

Secure camp and rescue additional group that was captured by baddies.

Get intel on remaining baddies base camp and head there to get goods.

Go to base camp and shoot out ensues.

Get goods and salvage gear. Find GyRoc 250 prototype.

Call in Drake and finish exchange. Get a box of goods as payment from them. Go back to civilization.

Ghost in the Machine

So we met up with Chips and asked if he could get a location of where the persistent and increasing messages from Doc’s supposedly dead wife, Sitra, have originated from. He did some of his techno-stuff and returned to reality after a few minutes. He said that this was not sent from one location specifically, but from multiple locations simultaneously, as if broadcasted. The most recent address that it was sent from originated from a Renraku animal testing facility, in Puyallup Barrens. Drake had been itching to try out the bird that we got from Val, so we hopped in and took a short flight to the outskirts of Seattle.

This so called animal testing facility seemed a lot more secured than you would expect from a glorified dog pound, so we drop off on top and enter in through an access door in the roof. Once in the top floor, we passed by some executive management offices, that held nothing in particular and we quickly made it to a guard post, complete with camera access. We tapped into their lines, but could not definitively see any ‘ Sitra is here’ notifications, so we continued to clear the top floor. We opened a door to a conference room, surprising the man there. Apparently a surprised office worker is quicker on his feet than trained mercenary solders, as he managed to get to the comm and sound the alarm before we could politely ask him not to. Drek.


We are at the Bloody Steaks restaurant in Renton, when our waitress, Carol , seems to be troubled. She is trying to hide that fact that she has been crying, and with womanly prodding by Red, she tells us that her son, Shawn has been kidnapped by her ex-husband, Carl. Apparently, Carl and some of his friends were the thieves who robbed the Kurt Cobain Memorial Art Museum several years ago. The word on the street is that the score was worth 12,000,000¥. Carl was the only one caught, but they were unable to pin the robbery on him, so he was sentenced for 5 years for some other menial charges. He had recently got out and believes that Carol took the money while he was imprisoned and is offering to return Shawn if she gives him back the money.

The problem is that, Carol does not know where it it, believing that his would-be friends instead took the money. Byk’s ears perk up at the consideration that we could fall into 12,000,000¥, and almost knocks us over to ‘rescue the poor child’. We head to the Quik Nap that Carl has been staying at, but discover that he has not been there for a few days. We call him on with the number provided by Carol, and arrange for a meet to exchange the money for Shawn. He agrees and we set up an ambush at a tube station at 4th and Union Ave. He arrives with Shawn and realized that he is set up too late. Although he injured Red, we subdued him. We question him and get information on his two associates of the robbery, Ray Litta & Stan Marks. We agree that he will go after Shawn & Carol again if we let him go, so Byk executes him, and we leave him there.


While at The Banshee having drinks and checking the scene, we are approached by a kindly old woman, who introduces herself as Maxine Wilson. She lives down the street and was believes her house to be haunted. Evidently, this all started happening a few months ago and she feels that she cannot let this sit any more. We probably would’ve blown her off, but we saw her get laughed away by another group of runners a few tables away. Plus, she offered $20,000¥ for our assistance in this exorcism. So, we finished our drinks and walked down a few blocks to her …eh, haunted house.

I’ll give her credit, the house looks creepy as all hell. We enter through a rusted wrought iron gate that creaks loud enough to wake the neighbors and approach her house thorough an overgrown yard of twisted vines and gnarled trees. This house is actually more of a mansion. It is huge, but unkempt. There is definitely something wrong here as we see that the front porch swing is happily swinging in the wind, even though there is not even a slight breeze.

In the Jungle

After the Russian mafia fiasco, we decided to lay low for a while. This break offered opportunity for me to spend some of the cash I’ve been accumulating over the last few months and take it easy, or as easy as Zany is willing to let me take it. On a side note, I think she moved in. I am not sure, but suddenly she is just here now. Anyways, we are all sitting around watching the Destroyers host the Mavericks. As I am unsuccessfully trying to explain to Byk the ‘illegal post maneuvering shift’ penalty in Urban Brawl, guests arrive at our little abode.

Standing at my front door is a mostly native squad of the Damned, being led by the new Lieutenant Case. Since we don’t want them to level the place, we willingly let them in. It turns out that he was not killed outside of Torio as I was led to believe. He seems kind of sour about that, but fails to remember that it was not me who tagged Wolf Pack as Tisked, but Sergeant Stenz. None the less, he peppers the conversation with bad jokes and reminds me that I still have 2 plus years of service due to the CFS. Although he would not object to dragging my ass back and tossing me in the brig, he has an offer that would help keep me out of the stockade.

Situation Normal - Pariah

Over the next three weeks, we’ve managed to not get into much trouble. Doc and Sitra are constantly plotting for their upcoming wedding next month, Drake is generally in the garage, tinkering with something, while Byk and Red tend to keep to themselves, doing whatever it is that they do. Zany has been spending more time out and about, constantly hitting me up for money for ‘stuff.’ Not sure what ‘stuff’ is, but, as normal, she get what she wants. I don’t know how deep she thinks my pockets are, but at the rate she’s spending my money, I’ll have to get back to work sooner than expected. I’ve accumulated over a week of Hope Springs Eternal episodes on the DTR to watch, cause Chips hasn’t been around to watch them. Seriously, usually I cannot start an episode without him magically showing up before the opening credits end, like he knew it was starting. Would it be paranoid to believe he may be spying on when I watch the trideo? Now, the couple of time that I’ve called him, it’s gone right to a message. A bit strange since he tends of answer the phone before the first ring.

Red had got a call a few hours ago and abruptly said that she had to go into town and stop at the Stiffer Shack (read, important personal business), and she’d be back later. Sitra is bombarding Doc with questions of what various color of white needs to be selected for something for the wedding, when I try to help by asking if these are all white, then what is the difference? Mistake, Doc gives me a sympathetic look and she shoots me a glare like I just committed a large blunder. She doesn’t even tell my what faux pas I made, she just stops talking to us and angrily walks away, muttering in Indian. My confusion is interrupted by Red coming in with a serious expression on her face. She says that she needs our help. One of her friends, a judge in Tacoma has asked her for some help concerning the Yakuza. She tells us that he had at one time, taken some money from them in return for some judicial favors favorable to the Yakuza. Eventually, he wanted out of his arrangement, and they objected. When they began pressuring him, Red intervened and killed Toju the cousin of one of the Yakuza bosses, Hanzo Shotozumi. That may or may not have been a good idea, but they backed off either way, until recently. She had just met with the judge, and he had asked for her help with the Cyber Dragons, alluding to the way she had handled it before (read, killing) – he was then led off by a few of them to whereabouts unknown. I offer to help – it’s not like she didn’t help me by flying to Aztalan.

Death of a Salesman - Doc

Though Red’s friend Judge Martin Brown is not a salesman by trade, the sale of the Honorable part of his title to the highest bidder is a type of salesmanship.

Approximately a month after our visit to the rain forests of central Aztlan, I and the group were lounging around the clubhouse: Byk, Zany and Pariah were watching some brainless film for, I swear, like the 300th time; Drake was in the machine shop just throwing around tools and swearing in some guttural language, or so it seemed; Red was experimenting with different shades of hair; Sitra was reading back issues of Post-Modern bride and I was reading the most recent article in JAMA on modern endocrinological research pertaining to the effect of progesterone in dwarven males, being continually interrupted by questions over which shade of white do I like, and after I respond being told that I am wrong. I am glad that Sitra is busy with wedding plans; today is the second anniversary of her death.

When we heard Red talking on the phone, we knew something was up. Unfortunately, Byk decided now was the time to start singing Russian folk music – something about goats on the rooftop – so we couldn’t hear what she was saying. When she said that she had to make an emergency run to the Stuffer Shack for more hair dye, we gave her our requests – the Azteca Metldown Chiccharones for me….


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