# [Shadowrun] Seattle Calling (Chp 3 - Completed 4/12/2009)



## Zen_Pollo (Feb 8, 2009)

Seattle Calling: Chapter 3

This story hour chronicles the continuing exploits of our characters surrounding a special election in Seattle. This campaign uses Shadowrun 4th edition rules.

The Characters:
Alexander McQueen, an Elf Shaman/Face Man
Darien Slone, a Troll Meat Shield/Cyborg Killer
Carlito Lontoh, a mad Human Scientist/Technician
Terrance Amond, another Elf Street Samurai/Razorboy

Resources:

Seattle Calling Wikispace

Complete Chapter 1 PDF

Complete Chapter 2 PDF

The PDF for this completed Story Hour:

Complete Chapter 3 PDF



GM Notes:
1) This Chapter is based off the adventure, The Last Run, written by Aaron Pavao

2)  The Showdown at the Stuffer Shack Post was based on the setting provided by Catalyst Game Labs, Food Fight 4.0


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## Zen_Pollo (Feb 8, 2009)

*Chapter 3: Vignette*

GM Note:  This vignette was printed out and read alond by the players to allude to larger plot elements in the world around them​
_Setting: A posh dinner engagement in a well-appointed mansion.  Socialites dressed in 2000 nuyen suits and dresses with no price mingle in a large gilded ballroom partaking of the amuse-bouche served on silver platters and champagne in crystal stemware.

A statuesque red-haired woman wearing a white sequined gown chats amiably with a small crowd of sycophantic young men.  An older gentleman with the sort hair implants only money could buy approaches and pulls the woman aside.  The couple wanders to the garden outside._

Johnny Johns (Activating a white noise generator):  A word, Paula, if you will?

Paula Peterson:  Of course, Johnny.  What’s on your mind?

Johnny Johns:  Nasty business this morning…

Paula Peterson:  Yes, fortunately, we were able to contain the matter.  Besides, the subjects will yield interesting research potential for some of our benefactors.

Johnny Johns:  Of course, Of course, but we can’t lose sight of our primary objective.  It’s time to move forward with the third parties.

Paula Peterson (Pursing her lips):  I see

Johnny Johns:  You don’t approve?

Paula Peterson:  I believe that the timing is not yet right to involve them in discussions.

Johnny Johns (Chuckling):  Paula, when are you going to learn to be more proactive?  We need them to be aligned with our objective and time is running short to coordinate more “fact-finding” debacles.

Paula Peterson:  Consider it done.  Who shall be the point person in negotiations?

Johnny Johns (Considers a moment):  How’s your young contractor coming along?

Paula Peterson:  It is hard to say.  I’m not sure he is ready to take on more leadership opportunities.

Johnny Johns(Smiling):  Sometimes it is best to let your subordinates grow into new responsibilities.  A trial-by-fire if you will.  It worked out for you didn’t it?

Paula Peterson:  And if he fails?

Johnny Johns (Stares coolly at Paula):  You’ll know what to do.


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## snowcone (Feb 19, 2009)

Great story hour, keep it coming!


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## Zen_Pollo (Mar 18, 2009)

*The Last Run*

_London calling, yes, I was there, too
An' you know what they said? Well, some of it was true!_
The Clash, _London Calling_​
_Setting:_  Inside a downtown condo – the sort of metrosexual bachelor pad that yuppies dream about in college before they realize that condominiums are only a small step up from apartment living.  A tall, sweaty, yet handsome, elf in workout apparel walked in through the condo’s entrance and wiped his brow with a white moisture-wicking towel.

As Alexander entered the living room, the elf picked up his commlink from the entry way table.  Most people would take their commlink with them to exercise in order to help monitor vitals, measure performance and augment the exercise machinery(_It’s ARObics Time!_), but sometimes, the shaman liked to unplug – sometimes he needed to unplug.

An image of the boy, Theseus, came to Alexander’s mind.  The elf recalled probing the boy’s memories the night before yesterday at the high school.  Theseus had been so thoroughly brain-washed, that the boy lacked any true curiosity of his surroundings.  Theseus killed without compunction and never asked why.  

_Perhaps to make him a better soldier someday_, Alexander thought,_ but it also made him hard to Mind Probe._  The lawyer took that as a personal affront – Mind Probing innocents was Alexander’s specialty.  The elf had managed to glean only one useful fact from the boy’s consciousness memories.  The shaman wondered, _Who is Mr. Weissman?_

Alexander activated his commlink and it re-subscribed his Personal Area Network to the appliances and utilities of the condo.  Shortly, readouts of the temperature(_21 degrees Celsius_), the current water bill(_46 Nuyen_) and the inventory of his cupboards(_Time to shop!  Head to the Stuffer Shack!_) displayed themselves as Augmented Reality Objects in the smartglasses Alexander donned.

A blinking ARO caught his attention, _(1) Unviewed Vidlink Message_.  Alexander keyed the ARO and the object expanded into a vidlink window hovering in the air in front of him showing the annoyed features of Paula Peterson.

“Mister McQueen, it is 9:16 am on a weekday.  Still sleeping?  Please call me back at your earliest convenience,” stated Red with her mouth in a line.

_Frak,_ thought the elf, _Who does she think she is?  What a way to start the morning!_

After Alexander showered and dressed, the elf decided to eat some breakfast and read the morning news off the Matrix.  Around 11 am, the shaman got around to returning Red’s vidcall.  “So Paula, how’s tricks?” asked the elf nonchalantly.

Red stared at Alexander coolly through the vidlink until the elf started to fidget under the salarywoman’s gaze.  Once Red was assured of Alexander’s shame and humility, she replied, “I am doing well.  I trust you and your team are well-rested from the other night?”

“Uhm, yeah, we’re fine, thanks,” stammered the lawyer.

The salarywoman launched into her proposal, “Good, we’ll get to business then.  I have another job for you and your minions.  I’m sending you an ARO with the Facebook profile of someone I want you to meet.”  Alexander checked his commlink and an ARO blinked with a Facebook icon.  The elf launched the ARO and the profile of one Svetlana Simoneov came to life.  According to the profile, Svetlana was Single (Not Looking), of Russian ancestry, and listed her occupation as _Import/Export Broker_.  There was no picture.

“I want you to establish contact with this woman and enter into a negotiation with her,” asked Red.

“What sort of negotiation?” Alexander replied.

_And here it is_, thought Red,_Let’s see how far I can trust this Alexander McQueen_.  “We need her support for Proposition 1812 later this month,” sighed Red.

_The ballot initiative?_ thought Alexander, _What’s that got to do with anything?_  But the elf replied out loud, “Alright, what’s the carrot and what’s the stick?”

“Excuse me?” questioned a confusing looking Red.

“Every negotiation needs a carrot and a stick,” replied the lawyer, “It’s about getting leverage on your adversary.”

“I see,” Red stated, “but you misunderstand, the negotiation has already been made.”

“Then why do you need me?” replied the elf with a sinking feeling.

“You, my dear Alexander, are the carrot,” smirked Red, but Alexander thought to himself _So, does that make you the stick?_

Red continued, “You are to do a service for Ms. Simoneov – whatever she asks you to do – you do, no questions asked.  Understand?”

“Do I have a choice?” replied a disgruntled Alexander.

“Need I remind you…” began Red.  “…That I am on retainer,” finished Alexander.

“Don’t look so glum, Mr. McQueen,” smiled Red, “I think you have been doing a good job thus far on this contract.  In fact, I have been authorized to give you an incentive bonus.”

Alexander could not help himself, his interest was piqued, “What sort of bonus?”

“I could not locate the relatives of your spectral comrade from the other day,” explained Red, “Therefore, I have decided to let you keep the Power Focus you gave me earlier.”

_How magnanimous of her to give me back my own loot_, thought the cynical elf but he merely mumbled his thanks to his superior.

“Oh, and Mr. McQueen,” stated Red as she was about to terminate the connection, “There’s one more thing…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Carlito received the call, he was working on repairing the CityMaster in Slone’s neighborhood sprawl in Auburn.  Carlito’s jury-rigged repairs allowed the team to drive the jalopy out from the Barrens, but the scientist knew the repairs wouldn’t hold up over time.  

Slone and Carlito had chipped in some nuyen to front the cost of repair parts for the CityMaster.  The duo had asked Alexander if he wanted to contribute to the vehicle fund, but the elf had other ideas in mind – he planned to purchase his own ride.

“Screw him then, he gets to ride on the floor,” remarked Slone at the time.  So over the last couple of days, Carlito and Slone had visited various pick-n-pull junkyards to acquire the necessary materials.

Carlito was a superlative mechanic – his Encephalon cyberware greatly aided his repair skills – not to mention that the human was highly skilled to begin with.  Carlito’s Mother had never approved of his utility with vehicles – she thought it was beneath his abilities.  _It’s so…blue collar_, Carlito’s Mother would say.

But Carlito’s relatives on his father’s side, mostly working class Filipoinos, had taught him about internal combustion engines.  Carlito learned a great deal about many things from his cousins – subjects his mother definitely would not approve.  _Mother never did like Father’s relatives_, thought the scientist.

Still, Carlito’s mind had wandered as it often did while he was working with his hands.  Two nights ago, while the cleaning crew was clearing up the mess at Redmond High School, the human had scoured the medical database of the main console which Ariadne attempted to have him destroy.

The scientist had found an Access Code to a hidden matrix node.  The console collected the data from the field tables, collated and sorted it, and then submitted tabulated results to another node via a satellite connection.  Unfortunately, Carlito lacked the computer skills of a true hacker and was stymied when he had attempted to track down the physical location of the hidden node.

_At least I remembered to inject those nanites into Theseus_, Carlito thought to console himself over his failure with the console.  Carlito injected the boy with Cutter nanites that were deactivated.  The scientist figured that he would come across the boy in the future and then he would have some means of control over the brain-washed lad.  With an order form Carlito’s commlink, the Cutters would activate and begin their single-minded destruction of organic compounds.  _Of course, Theseus will pass the hard nanites through his urine if I don’t activate them in a week or so_ reasoned the scientist.

In any case, Carlito had spent his last several days very productively.  In addition to working on the CityMaster, the human had added an external smartgun link to his weapon.  During the run against the STTC, the trio had stolen guns from the three security guards.  Stripping the components from the stolen weapons was not difficult for the human.  _Good thing Father’s relatives were such 2nd Amendment wingnuts_, thought Carlito, whom had learned to handle firearms from a young age, _Thanks, Uncle Santiago!_.  

_Now that I’m getting more use out of my Fubuki, I could really use some help aiming_, thought the scientist.  The external smartlink would link-up with his commlink and smartglasses to improve his accuracy with the weapon and allow him to control some of the weapon’s functionality.

As Carlito was finishing up on the CityMaster, an ARO popped up indicating a call from Alexander.  The two exchanged a few words and Carlito terminated the call.  The human turned to Slone with a look of disgust on his features.

“I hate Dante's Inferno.  It's dirty,” stated the scientist turning to the bleached skull sitting next to him on the CityMaster’s fender, “Tommy thinks so too!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slone had been helping out Carlito the last few days while his numerous wounds and bruises healed up.  _That kid really packed a punch_, thought the taciturn troll.  Slone winced a bit as he recalled the half-pint adept repeatedly striking him in the groin.  _Gonna have ta’ go to Olga’s and have that looked at…_ thought the troll.

So far, Slone’s cyberware and body armor had prevented a major wound, but it was only a matter of time before the troll’s adversaries caught up with him.  The bodyguard knew his days were marked.

Yet, it wasn’t in Slone’s nature to turn the other cheek – not when his mates were in danger.  The troll felt Alexander and Carlito were splashing about in the shadows like they where in a kiddie pool while the sharks circled in the darkness about them.  Slone figured, _That Pantsuit from the UCC will eat these two for breakfast and use their liquidation to pad the “Extra-Curricular” portion of her resume_.

So Slone stoically followed Carlito around getting parts for the CityMaster – “Now that’s a Man’s Vehicle,” the troll had told the scientist.  While Slone was an expert driver thanks to the aggressive driving courses he took as a bodyguard with Ares, the troll was no mechanic.  In fact, Slone’s “help on the repairs” amounted to holding the tools for Carlito and fetching food for the duo.

While Carlito worked on the vehicle, Slone’s mind wandered a bit to his situation; being the only tough in this outfit was becoming a burden.  _At least Carlito tries to shoot our enemies_, reasoned the troll, _That frakin’ elf just turns invisible and runs away_.  

In more than one fight, the troll had been left fighting off their opponents by virtually by himself. _When will we fight a group that has one too many bad guys?_ thought Slone, _Either I need some back-up or these corporate hacks need to step-up their game_.

When Alexander’s call came, Slone got some details of the assignment from Carlito.  “A Russian, huh?” the troll repeated back to Carlito, “In the Import\Export Business, huh?”

_I don’t need to look at a Facebook profile to know she’s with the Vory y Zakone_, thought the troll to himself, _What’s the UCC doing getting involved with those gangsters?_

Slone shook his head, _That Red-headed Pantsuit’s gonna get us killed_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Even after calling Carlito to set up the meeting for later tonight, Alexander still felt the shame and humiliation from Paula’s earlier disapproval.  The seething young salaryman was in the mood to spend some money -- Alexander often bought his way out of shame.

Flipping through some Matrix catalog sites sporting the sort of high-end clothing and accessories young professionals everywhere had to have, Alexander found what he sought – the 2070 Suzuki Mirage Sport Bike – an ARO promised _Just six easy payments of 999 nuyen plus shipping, handling and medical expenses related to delivery!_.  The lawyer keyed in the code to his personal credit account and made the purchase.  _May as well get some use out of that Docwagon Gold Card_, smirked the lawyer, _Besides, let’s see Paula try to get me to run the shadows from the hospital!_ 

The lawyer was self-aware enough to recognize the passive-aggressive nature of his ways; he just didn’t care.  

Just then, Alexander’s commlink indicated an incoming video call.  _What does Jimmy Get My Coffee want?_ wondered the elf as he opened the ARO.

“Hey Jimmy,” greeted Alexander, “How’s it shaking in Corp-land?”

“I’m fine, Alexander,” replied the mousy lad in the vidlink, “How have you been doing since the layoff?”

_I wish I was only laid-off_, thought the glum Alexander, but he replied out loud, “I’m fine, Jimmy, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, well, Lollipop says ‘what-up’ and she wanted me to ask you if you still had any leads on the dock-worker strike?” queried the assistant.  Alexander didn’t feel like dealing with the pop-tart at the moment; _Funny how dodging bullets gives you new perspective on matters_, thought the lawyer.

Alexander simply replied, “I don’t work for Horizon anymore; if Lolli wants something from me, she can call me herself – and tell her to bring her credstick.”  The lawyer pointedly jabbed the terminate call button on the ARO in front of him and the vidlink connection was severed.

“Frak!” 

Jimmy’s call had jarred something in Alexander’s gut – emotions the he would have preferred left alone.  The lawyer recalled the last action item from Paula’s call earlier that morning.  At first, the elf simply chose to ignore the salarywoman’s request; yet Alexander was beginning to feel foolish for defying his superior on such a simple matter.  Jimmy’s call made Alexander realize that he had made some decisions about Paula that had nothing to do with the salarywoman.

“Frak it all!” 

The elf keyed in the access code for the contact Paula had provided earlier.

A vidlink opened showing the aquiline features of another elf.  The other elf rubbed his eyes as though he had just woken up from a nap.

“Sorry to wake you,” asked the lawyer, “Are you Terrance Amond?”

“Why?  Do I owe you money?” replied the rumpled elf.

Alexander grinned in spite of himself, “No, I’m a friend of Paula Peterson – She referred me to you.”

“That Bitch!” grunted Terrance, “What do you want?”

“My team is meeting around 7 pm at Dante's Inferno,” explained the lawyer, “I understand you might have some skills we could use if you’re interested in working.”

Terrance smirked, “Like either of us has a choice.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting fired from Security at Aztechnology wasn’t like getting laid off from other corps.  Some corps provided generous severance packages; the Azzies preferred to settle their scores in blood.

The elf recalled the taste of coppery bile in his mouth.  Terrance had been laying face-down in the gutter while Hector Guzman’s thugs were cleaning the blood off their knuckles.  Once the goon squad had finished working Terrance over like a side of soybeef, they brushed off their cheap suits and walked back into the looming arcology’s service entrance.  

_Why didn’t Hector kill me?_ wondered Terrance.  The elf knew there was no love lost between the Director of Site Security and himself.  Normally, the corporation would have turned a blind eye to illegal deeds – as long as they were performed off-site.  In fact, the literally cut-throat culture of Aztechnology often provided incentives for middle-managers whom dealt with their corporate rivals in a less than civilized fashion.  _It helps sharpen our competitive instincts_, Terrance’s boss had once told him.  

The elf rolled over and groaned at a devil rat sniffing near-by; the rat was investigating the scent of Terrance’s fresh blood.  The elf got to his feet and shambled towards the street.  Yet, the devil rat remained undeterred; it followed the elf and called to its brethren.  Still, the devil rats did not attack.

_The rats are like Hector_, thought Terrance, _They only respect power_.

The metaphor was not lost on Terrance.

_Someone higher up must have wanted me kept alive_, reasoned the elf, _I wonder who that might be and why?_

After the beating, the elf wandered back towards his apartment in the Auburn sprawl across Lake Washington from Downtown.  As the former wageslave rode the ferry across the bay, he recalled that a firefight had recently shut it down; not to mention the dock-workers’ strike.  The elf mused, _Good thing it’s back running, I hate taking the bus_.

When Terrance got back to his apartment, he noticed a call on his home console.  Terrance keyed the ARO and watched the vidlink message.  When the message was complete, the battered elf deleted it and wondered, _Who the frak is Paula Peterson?  And why does she want me to join the United Corporate Council?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quartet arranged to meet later that night at Dante’s Inferno.  Dante’s had come a long way in the twenty years it had been open.  The first few years of the club’s existence marked its golden era – lines wrapped around the block full of trendily dressed hipsters waiting in the cold Seattle rain to get into the hottest club in town.  A decade later, the gilt had worn off and you didn’t even need to have cosmetic surgery to make it inside.  Now, the joint had devolved into a meat market for those lower middle class folks whom needed to make a hook-up and still preferred good, old-fashioned, exchange of bodily fluids over the sterile, yet safe, pleasures of sim-rigged cybernookie.

Slone was somewhat fond of the place.

The troll knew better than to pack his weapons – the club had placed Magnetic Anomaly Detectors at the entrance in a vain effort to curb synthahol-fueled assaults.  Yet, Slone knew all the security tricks and had cunningly concealed his monofilament whip near the small of his neck.  When the doorman stopped to search him, the troll knew just what to do.

It turned out that Alexander knew a guy who knew a guy and had sent an email in advance of their arrival to secure direct entrance to the club.  The lawyer’s contact was a bartender, named Bobby Black.  Bobby had placed their names on an ARO’d list hovering in front of the orc doorguard.  As the trio walked in through the front entrance, Alexander passed the doorman 50 nuyen via his commlink and told him to let in Terrance Amond whenever he showed up.  The orc grunted his acceptance of the bribe and went back to looking menacing for the rest of the herd waiting in line.

Once inside, Carlito looked about in a mix of apprehension and disgust.  The crowded dance floor on the first level reminded Carlito of terrible middle-school dances when he would sit on the bleachers and look scared.  _Don’t let those nasty girls dance with you, Carlito, they’re only after one thing_, the scientist’s Mother would say.  _Yes, Mother_.  The scientist held Tommy’s skull close to his body; concealed under his armored jacket.

Alexander led the way down to the deeper floors.  Dante’s was arranged like the proverbial seven layers of hell with each subsequent floor going deeper underground.  In years gone by, every floor in the club would have been packed, but these days, the establishment was fortunate to keep 3 levels full; the club had closed down the bottom four floors altogether.

The elf settled into a booth on the third level and selected an overpriced synthahol cocktail from the ARO menu at the table.  Alexander asked his companions if they wanted a drink.

“What?” replied Carlito over the ear-splitting dance tracks, “I can’t hear anything in this place.  Do you want to open a tab and get some drinks?”  

Alexander gave up and ordered drinks for his companions via the ARO menu.  Eventually, a disinterested waitress stopped by with the beverages.  In spite of the streamlined technology, the drinks were all wrong – Slone ended up with a fruity concoction, Alexander got a SUDZ POWER LAGER CHUGGERBOMB, and Carlito distastefully pushed away a cheap glass of Nu-Berriz wine.

Shortly after the drinks arrived, a tall elf approached the table.  Terrance moved with the grace Slone liked to call “The Million Nuyen Shuffle.”  The bodyguard also noticed the butt of a katana sticking out from the back of the elf’s well-tailored jacket.  _I wonder how he got that through security?  Must be a Street Samurai_, thought the troll, _Let’s see if he can help carry some of the load in this outfit_.

The elf wore presentable clothing appropriate for the setting – sans the katana.  Alexander was pleasantly surprised; _At least he knows how to dress_, thought the lawyer, _But I wonder if he has a license for that blade_.  Alexander had briefed the rest of the team on what Paula had told him about the new guy.  Alexander wasn’t sure if the elf could be trusted, but the lawyer thought it unwise to refuse help from his superior.  _Better to have the spy close at hand, than shadowing us around on a job_, reasoned the shaman.

“Call me, Viper” Terrance said by why of introduction to the group.

“Huh?” replied Carlito still unable to make conversation over the music, “Did you say Piper?”

The new elf rolled his eyes at the human and setup an ARO chat room via his commlink; *Call me, Viper*

But the scientist was having none of it – *I think I’ll call you ‘Terrance’*.

The street samurai narrowed his eyes; *I'll call you Dead Man!*

Slone was having trouble getting his commlink to work; *SYSTEM ERROR:4004: Messaging CODEX not found*.  The troll grunted a loud obscenity and slammed a meaty fist on the wobbly cocktail table, causing their drinks to splash all over the sticky surface.

*Slone says ‘Hello, Terrance’*, relayed the scientist carefully avoiding the mess, *So what’s the scoop on this mission?*

Alexander replied, *Paula gave us another assignment*.

*What kind of assignment?* asked Terrance.

*The kind where we don’t ask questions and we do what we’re told*, the lawyer texted; but he thought to himself _Did I just say that?_

Terrance nodded – he knew the score.

Alexander went on to explain the mission parameters to the group.  The lawyer had already made contact with the Russian’s associates and had arranged a meeting later that night with Ms. Svetlana Simoneov.  Once there, the team was to finalize the negotiations with the Russian and, in exchange for her support of Proposition 1812, the group would perform whatever task Simoneov had in mind.

*Russians are dirty*, the scientist texted, *But elves are clean, right?*

Slone eyed Terrance over and whispered something inaudible into the scientist’s ear.  Terrance noticed the exchange and saw the odd lump underneath Carlito’s jacket.

*What is that?* queried the street samurai.

*My pet skull*, replied Carlito pulling out Tommy and carefully depositing the skull on the sticky table.

*Who was that?* asked the mildly disturbed elf.

*Our Johnson*, Alexander replied, *He's having a tough time adjusting to life in the Shadows*.  The shaman lamented, _Aren’t we all.._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Red Tide was upscale seafood restaurant which had recently opened near the bay north of downtown Seattle.  With an open balcony facing the marina, the restaurant catered to the wealthy Queen Anne Hill set.

Alexander arrived first on his brand new Suzuki Mirage Sport Bike.  The valet took one look at the crotch-rocket and smiled mischievously; _I'll take it for a ride_ thought the young human.  The lawyer had other ideas; _No, you won’t_ commanded the elf using a little of his mojo magic.

Meanwhile, the CityMaster pulled up.  The behemoth looked better than when the group had driven out of the barrens – at least it had a hood and doors – but the jalopy still seemed out of place next to the BMWs and Mercedes in the parking lot.  

Another young valet requested the access code for the vehicle using an ARO, but he asked out loud, “What am I supposed to do with…this?”

“Park it,” Slone replied.

The troll was concerned about carrying weapons to the meet.  Slone knew that the restaurant would probably have AAA-grade security systems in place.  Furthermore, the troll figured it was foolish to meet the Russian mob without any protection.  _Hopefully, we won’t need any weapons_, Slone thought as he fingered his cybernetically-enlarged knuckles, _But at least I have my titanium bone lacing if things turn bad_.

The troll had persuaded Carlito to leave Tommy in the car.  The scientist protested at first but soon saw the wisdom of Slone’s advice.  Carlito placed the skull on the dashboard of the CityMaster and instructed, “Tommy, you watch the truck.”

As the quartet entered the establishment, a live hostess moved forward to meet them, “Welcome, do you have a reservation?”

Alexander replied, “We’re with the Simonev Party.”  _This place must be fabulously expensive_, thought the lawyer, _They can afford the wages of a full-time hostess instead of a hologram_.

The restaurant’s WAN automatically requested to subscribe to their commlinks.  Slone’s commlink was on the fritz as usual, so the Hostess asked for a security scan.  “Ah, corporate SIN,” replied the hostess when the facial recognition search returned the troll’s Social Identification Number and profile.  The Hostess’s eyebrows rose further when the Magnetic Anomaly Detector went off the charts due to the metal in the troll’s meat.

“You're a Troll bunny, aren't you,” smiled the troll as he winked at the wary hostess.

The Hostess led the group to a private balcony on the second floor of the establishment.  There was a team of well-appointed wait staff exclusively serving the private balcony.   Terrance noticed the restaurant had placed a number of aluminum space heaters on the balcony to ward off the evening chill.  “Way to over do it with the spaceheaters,” snarked the elf to the Hostess.

“They are not merely spaceheaters; but also the most expensive white noise generators money can buy,” replied a stocky woman seated at the end of a long table in the otherwise empty section.  The woman was built like a mini-brick drekhouse; she could have been a member of the Ukrainian Swim National Team during the Cold War era.

The group’s sponsor stood up, yet there was little difference in height between her standing up and sitting down.  Nevertheless, the team could tell Ms. Brickhouse ate well – very well.

"Have a seat, gentleman,” offered the woman.

Terrance remarked, “What gentleman?”

As the team took seats on either side of the table, Slone observed the pair of muscle-bound toughs standing behind Ms. Brickhouse.  _They look kinda hungry to me_, thought the troll, _Must be the food shortage_.  

That sentiment made Slone uneasy – hungry men were unpredictable.

“Well,” began Ms. Brickhouse, “I suppose introductions are in order.  I am Svetlana Simoneov; it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m Viper,” the street samurai said.

“He’s really named Terrance,” replied Alexander, “My name is McQueen.”

“I’m Carlito Lontoh,” introduced the scientist, “You can call me Hamlet”

Slone snickered, “Are you turning into a girly man?”

“Possibly,” replied the human.

Ms. Brickhouse turned to the troll and made bedroom eyes, “And your name, good sir?”

“Darien Slone,” replied the troll, somewhat taken aback by their hostess.  The Russian smiled at Slone and clapped her hands sharply.  The wait-staff jumped up to fill the glasses at the table with fine wine. “Let’s eat first gentleman,” stated Ms. Brickhouse as she turned to Slone, “And then we can talk…business.”

The first course was an amuse bouche – tiny slivers of red snapper served sashimi-style over a garlic encrusted brioche.  _Mmmmm, Real fish_, thought Alexander, _But it could have used more acid_.

The next course was a creamy green Alligator soup – Ms. Brickhouse explained that it was the fresh daily special.  “Fish this out of the sewer?” queried Terrance – the elf loved being a prick sometimes.  Nevertheless, Terrance slurped up the soup with gusto -- he had a suprathyriod gland to feed.


The third course was an Alaskan King Crab served on a giant ornamental skewer.  Each pair of people at the table had an entire crab for themselves.  The crabs must have contained 10 pounds of meat apiece.  Carlito was un-used to dining on game food.  The scientist quickly realized that in order to eat the crab, he would have to break off the legs and crack the shell himself; so Carlito asked the waiter, “Can you take the meat out?”

“What, you want him to cut the pieces into tiny-little bits and tuck in your bib too?” smirked Terrance.  The street samurai noticed that some of the team looked full after the three courses – the elf also saw a waitress discretely munching on a discarded piece of crab meat as she cleared away the remains of the course.

The fourth course was steamed Mussels served over a bed of home-made pasta.  Now Terrance was in full-on snark mode, “So when are we going to start eating?”  The street samurai unbuckled his belt and tore into the dish.  

The fifth course was a filet of Salmon served over a red wine reduction.  By this time, Alexander was done eating – “I’m full, thank you.”  Ms. Brickhouse smiled cruelly and simply waved the waiter carrying the plate away.  When the waiter thought no one was looking, he slipped the Salmon filet into his trouser pocket.

Carlito was similarly broken by the time the cheese course came around.  The scientist could not even feign interest in the varied assortment of real cheeses: creamy brie, crumbles of parmesan, even green-veined gorgonzola.

The restaurant featured a special delicacy for dessert – individual pieces of fruit and nuts hollowed out by hand and then refilled with gelato ice cream flavored exactly like the original; pecan shells filled with pecan gelato, peach halves filled with peach gelato, whole roasted peanuts filled with peanut-flavored gelato – it was utter madness!

In spite of his bravado, even Terrance couldn’t hack it during the dessert course.  The samurai unbuttoned his pants like they where a can of biscuits.  Alexander had begun to sweat profusely and Carlito laid his head on the table moaning softly.

Only Slone and Ms. Brickhouse remained undaunted by the gelato-fruit.

The troll picked up a walnut-gelato and casually tossed it into the air and caught it with his mouth; “I like your reception.  Can I take some home in a doggie bag?”

As she popped a strawberry-gelato between her lips, Ms. Brickhouse coyly breathed, “You’re trying to ruin my figure!”

Slone’s stomach grumbled; this was a big meal – even for the 400 kg troll.  The bodyguard gestured to the last piece of fruit, a plum filled with plum gelato.

“Ladies first,” offered the troll.

Ms. Brickhouse demurred, “No, I like a man who can eat.”

Slone grunted and popped the last morsel into his mouth; his stomach rebelled momentarily and then the troll issued a loud belch with a contented smile, “How about some coffee?”

Ms. Brickhouse guffawed loudly, “Let’s discuss business, shall we?”  But first, the wait staff brought espressos for everyone served in fine blue china.  Then, Svetlana shooed the waiters away and the guards positioned themselves near the balcony entrance.

“So, tell me about Paula,” began Ms. Brickhouse.

“She's a cold-hearted snake,” replied Terrance.

Ms. Brickhouse sneered, “We share that in common.”

Alexander decided to lay it all out on the table, “She would like your support for Proposition 1812 next month.”

“Like when you beat Napoleon in the Crimean War,” piped in Carlito.

“The Crimean War?” replied Ms. Brickhouse, “I thought we were talking about an election!  Why should I help you?”

Alexander smiled, “You can have the troll.”

“Ha, I can have the troll anytime I want!” smiled Ms. Brickhouse, “But the amount has already been agreed to between Paula and me.”

“So, I’ve been told,” relented Alexander.

Ms. Brickhouse leaned forward, “Then, you also know my price?”

“Indeed,” sighed the lawyer, “What service would you ask of us?”

Ms. Brickhouse described in detail the mission she had in mind for the crew.  The mob boss snapped her fingers and one of the hungry-looking guards sent the team an ARO containing the specifications of the buildings in question.  As Svetlana laid out the particulars, the team grew increasingly incredulous.  Finally, Ms. Brickhouse’s proposal came to an end; she asked the quartet, “My compatriots, have we got a deal?”

Alexander glanced around at his team – and sullenly nodded his agreement to the mission.  _What have I gotten myself into?_ thought Alexander, _This is suicide!_

Ms. Brickhouse accepted Alexander’s agreement and stood up to walk out of the restaurant.  Passing by Alexander’s seat, the Russian whispered into his ear, “Cross me and I will end your pathetic bourgeois existence – believe it.”

Straightening up, Ms. Brickhouse said to the rest of the group, “Thank you for a lovely time this evening – don’t worry, I already took care of the bill.”  As she walked out the entrance, she paused a moment and turned her head back to Slone, “You coming or not?”

The troll stood up and stretched.  Slone headed to follow Svetlana out the door, but looked at Alexander and said, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”  After Alexander nodded agreement, the troll shrugged his shoulders and went to work off his dinner obligation.

Carlito muttered, “Good thing Tommy is in the CityMaster – he would not approve of this mission.”

Terrance simply shook his head in disgust, “I love Foreign Relations.”


_The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
Cause London is drowning and I, I live by the river_
The Clash, _London Calling_​


----------



## Zen_Pollo (Apr 12, 2009)

*Rolling the Dice*

_London calling at the top of the dial
And after all this, won't you give me a smile?_
The Clash, _London Calling_​
_Setting_:  The 21st floor of the Hotel Furto in Pullayup in a suite overlooking the adjacent Obiettivo Building.  The suite was filled with various duffel bags packed with gear.  A young Thai-Filipino man paced the floor.

Carlito had a case of nerves regarding the incipient heist.  During last evening’s dinner, Svetlana Simoneov had explained the service she required from the team in order to support the United Corporate Council in the upcoming election.

Later that evening, the Obiettivo Building across the street from the Hotel Furto would be the site for a charity casino and auction.  The proceeds would benefit the Federated Rescued Orphan Newborns Trust.

Except that the team was going to rob the charity casino’s vault and remit all the funds to the Russian Mob.

_A hastily planned casino heist, laundering money for the Vory y Zakone, What could possibly go wrong?_, thought Carlito.  The scientist answered his own question, _Oh yeah, cracking a vault with no time to prepare and no information about the safe_.

_Preparation is the key for success.  Now get back to work, Carlito_, his mother would say, _I’m sorry, Mother, not this time_.

At least the human had been able to procure some gear for the job.  In every family there is one cousin that has a few shady connections.  The sort of cousin that you could turn to if you needed to score a stereo that had “fallen off the truck”, get the hook up on an ounce of herb or hire a prostitute for a bachelor party. 

Or locate 6 kilograms of plastic explosives for making shaped charges.

Carlito’s cousin RoRo was the right man for the job.  Cousin RoRo was Uncle Santiago’s son and was a very resourceful individual.  When Carlito had approached the heavily tattooed Filipino regarding the requirement for plastic explosive explosives, Roro was somewhat taken aback.

“What you need that stuff for, Carlito?” asked RoRo, “Your Mother know about this?”

_No, and I intend to keep it that way_, thought Carlito.  “The lab rats are getting smarter,” replied the scientist out loud, “I have a plan to set a trap they won’t be able to evade so easily.”

“Yeah, right,” replied the incredulous RoRo, “Whatever, man, it’ll cost you 3,600 nuyen.  And if you get caught, I don’t know you man, got it?”

“Yeah, thanks RoRo,” said a grateful Carlito.  _Mother definitely would not approve of Cousin Roro’s behavior; not at all!_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I’m Mick Bishop,” Alexander lied to the gentleman sitting next to him the Hotel Furto bar.

“Hans McGruber, they call me ‘Fingers’,” the man replied in kind.

Alexander had wandered about the Hotel Furto during the morning and afternoon prior to the scheduled heist.  It turned out that the same day of the charity casino in the Obiettivo Building; the Hotel Furto across the street was hosting a safe-cracking contest.  Omnicron Security, inc. used the event to showcase the impregnability of their new SecureBox 2070 line of vaults.

_Sometimes, luck goes your way_, reasoned Alexander when he had discovered the event.  It was a simple matter to arrange rooms for the team and to secure entry into the event.  Carlito had wanted to participate in the contest to sharpen his safe-cracking skills, but Alexander had discovered through some of his contacts that the safe-cracking event was rigged – no one ever succeed at breaking into the vault.  _And that is the point of the publicity, right?_ Alexander had explained to the scientist.

So the lawyer had used his time scouting out the competition.  In spite of Carlito’s technical prowess, Alexander had severe misgivings concerning the scientist’s safe-cracking capabilities.  The way the elf figured it, the contest might be a good place to find a real burglar.

And so Alexander found himself discussing the contest with ‘Fingers’ McGruber.  

“So Fingers, have you been in the safe cracking business long?” asked the elf nonchalantly.

Fingers replied, “Long enough to know this game is rigged.”

“Then why are you here?” queried the lawyer.

“I might ask you the same question,” retorted the burglar.

“I’ve got a job,” Alexander explained, “I’m looking for good help.”

“I’ll bet,” snickered the burglar, “What sort of help?”

“The kind that knows their way around a safe and can keep their mouth shut,” stated the shaman.

The burglar shook his head and paid his bar tab, “No thanks, buddy, forget you ever met me.”  Fingers glared at Alexander, slammed back the last of his scotch, and left the bar.

_Just great_, thought the elf, _Who the frack is going to open the safe now?_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, Slone joined the team in their hotel suite.  The troll had had quite the evening last night with Svetlana.  The Russian had kept him up all night – her appetite for carnal pleasures was as great as her appetite for seafood.  In addition, Ms. Brickhouse was used to only getting four hours of sleep a night.  _Sleep modulators free up so much time during the day_, thought the troll, _I’m gonna have to get me one of those_.

The sexual activities, coupled with the large meal from last night’s dinner, had caused Slone to sleep in all morning.  By the time the troll woke up, Svetlana had already gone about her business for the day.  The Russian had left an ARO with a video message thanking Slone for the evening, instructing the troll to help himself to some breakfast and then to show himself out.

_Actually, it’s better this way_, thought the troll as he had fixed himself a sandwich, _Slotting that slitch was like humping a beach-ball_.

After leaving the condominium, Slone received an email from Alexander with the directions to the hotel and a basic outline of the plan; so the troll had taken some time to find equipment to outfit the group for the evening’s heist.  In Slone’s duffel bag was some climbing harnesses and rappelling gear.

By the time the troll arrived at the room, it was almost time for the heist which was set to start that evening.  

“Thanks for showing up,” scoffed Terrance, “We weren’t sure if you were still going at it with your girlfriend.”

“Suck it, razor-boy,” snarled the troll, “You in a hurry to get glitched?”

“Enough,” cried Alexander, “Let’s just go over the plan.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The plan was short and sweet.  The team’s room was situated on the 21st floor of the Hotel Furto.  The quartet could easily spy the roof of the Obiettivo Building outside their window about three stories below them.  

Around 3am that evening, after the casino night had closed down but before the safe could be moved, Terrance would use a grapple gun to launch a grapple bolt and a microwire zipline across the street to a maintenance shed centered on the roof top of the Obiettivo Building.  Meanwhile, Alexander would use some of his mojo magic to quietly incapacitate one of the two rooftop security specialists.

Hopefully, if the guard went down quietly, the plan would provide enough time for the team to slide down the zipline before the other SecSpec could notice.

“And after that?” queried the troll.

“We improvise,” replied the lawyer.

“Maybe you should stay here Tommy,” said the scientist to his pet skull, “It’s going to be dangerous.”

But Terrance was not amused, “I totally dig that skull and all, but I think we’ve got company.”

The street samurai pointed out the window to the old Postal Building on the other side of the Obiettivo Buildling.  The team could just make out a group of four black-clad individuals preparing to rappel down to the Obiettivo Building from the other direction.  

“Those sorry sons of slitches stole our plan,” exclaimed the troll.

As the rival team zipped down the opposite monofilament line one-by-one, Terrance launched his own zipline to the shed.  

The rival team’s line was anchored on the opposite side of the shed from the group.  The roof guard closest to the rival team was busy text-messaging his girlfriend and utterly failed to notice the black-clad team zip down to the roof of the building.

As soon as the team’s microwire line was securely anchored, Slone sprang into action.  Using the microwire rappelling gloves he purchased earlier that day to grasp the line, the troll leaped into the chasm between buildings and slid down to the roof below.

Midway through Slone’s descent, Alexander pulled down the mojo magic and targeted the roof SecSpec closest to the team with a wicked Stunbolt.  Yet the (not so) carefully laid plan met with failure – the guard remained conscious!

_Frack it all_, Slone thought, _If you want something done you gotta do it yourself!_  Already half-way down the line, the troll could see the guard shake off the effects of the Stunbolt.  So Slone reached back with one hand and grasped the long handle of his trusty combat axe.  In one smooth motion, the troll drew the axe and hurled it, spinning end over end, towards the SecSpec’s helmet.  _Splat!_ went the guard’s head as Slone’s axe split it in twain.  The troll’s boots hit the Obiettivo Building about the same time the guard’s lifeless body slumped to the roof.

But the troll had company waiting for him on the building.  The rival team already had completed their descent and had observed Slone’s Herculean throw.  When the troll reached the roof, the rival team opened fire.  Fortunately for Slone, the rival team’s weapons were not up to the task of penetrating the troll’s armored jacket and protective cybernetics.  

The remaining security specialist was still texting his girlfriend and did not hear the report of the rival team’s silenced weapons.

Carlito jumped on the zipline next.  In spite of his earlier reticence, the scientist had strapped Tommy to his back and made the leap with wild abandon.   The human soon was able to land on the Obiettivo Building roof behind the troll.

Terrance turned to Alexander and gestured to the line, “Ladies first.”

“Go frak yourself, I don’t need a zipline,” replied the shaman as he pulled down the mojo once more and floated out the window with a Levitation spell.

The street samurai shrugged and zipped out the window.  However, one of the rival team took aim at the street samurai’s zipline anchored to the maintenance shed.  Drawing a katana from its sheath, the black-clad ninja sliced the microwire zipline just as Terrance was about to reach the edge of the building.

The street samurai almost plummeted to his doom but he grabbed the ledge of the Obiettivo Building just in time.  Slone wasted no effort – the troll grabbed the dangling elf and pulled him onto the roof.  Then, the bodyguard ducked the gunfire from the rival team as he searched for his thrown combat axe.

Terrance’s wired reflexes finally kicked in.  Time slowed down for the elf and even the hyperkinetic troll seemed to wade through a waist-deep pool.  Carlito and Alexander simply appeared frozen.  But for Terrance, time moved normally.  The street samurai caught two of the rival team members moving along the wall of the maintenance shed and the ninja whom had sliced the zipline was unable to drive for cover in time.  In the street sam’s wired state, the trio seemed rooted in their spots.  So Terrance drew his Ares Alpha and let loose three controlled shots on the hapless rival team; they died.

_Good thing I remembered to bring my sound suppressor_, thought the elf, _Best 300 nuyen I’ve spent so far._  The remaining security specialist still hadn’t noticed the firefight.

Quickly, the group reassembled itself and moved to the front entrance of the shed.  As Slone and Carlito policed the bodies of the dead, Terrance peeked around the shed to spy on the last guard whom was relieving himself over the edge of the roof at the far corner of the building.

Terrance found the barrel of a pistol pointed at his forehead.  

“So that’s where you went,” stated the street samurai to the last of the black-clad ninjas.

“Keep quiet or I’ll aerate your cranium,” whispered the ninja.

“Suck it, ninja-gaiden,” snarked the elf as he once more kicked in his wired reflexes.  The street samurai could see the ninja’s trigger being pulled and the movement of the weapon’s chambering mechanism.  As the firing pin struck home, the street samurai moved his head out of the way and drew his Ares Alpha.  When the smokeless primer vented near his head, Terrance felt his ear-drum shredding.  Grimacing in pain and slightly disoriented, the street samurai’s shot nevertheless found its mark and the last ninja crumpled.

_That’s four bullets so far_, thought the elf as he wiggled his finger in his bleeding ear canal.

The final living guard finished his business and looked over at the shed.  The SecSpec narrowly missed the receding boots of the black-clad ninja being dragged around the corner.  The security specialist propped up his Kalashnikov rifle against the crenellation of the roof and sat down to take a nap.  

Dozing off briefly, the security specialist woke with a start to find a large troll standing over him.  One troll-sized boot to the forehead later and the guard was dreaming about the meatless loaf his girlfriend had made for supper back home.

The team went through the gear from the rival team, whom were filthy with breaking and entering equipment.  Carlito giggled like a school-girl when he discovered assorted key-code crackers, code sequencers, and maglock passkeys.

However, it was Alexander whom had the most satisfaction; the fourth ninja turned out to be Hans “Fingers” McGruber.  _Guess you should have taken me up on my offer_, the lawyer grimly thought.

Carlito used one of the security specialists’ commlinks to subscribe to the maglock on the maintenance shed.  Fortunately, the guards’ commlinks already had user access to the lock’s node; therefore, Carlito did not have to hack into the lock on the fly.

Once inside the shed, the team examined the area.  There was a central elevator shaft which ran the entire length of the building from the roof to the second sub-basement.  The maintenance shed housed the mechanical components to run the elevator, so the team had a clear view all the way down the shaft to the elevator car itself.  

“Frak!” examined Slone as he observed the car which appeared to be stationed at the first sub-basement level.  All the roof panels had been removed from the elevator car.  Sitting on the floor of the open elevator were two smart firing platforms wielding Ares White Knight Light Machineguns.

“Oh it gets better”, sighed Terrance.  The street samurai had used his ultrasound vision enhancement lenses to spot the monofilament wires stretching across various points of the elevator shaft.

While the troll and the elf argued about how to rappel down the shaft without alerting the smart platforms or running into the wire, Carlito attempted to hack into the wide-area network of the building using the SecSpec’s user access code.

_I am Horatio!  I am the Survivor!_ Carlito thought triumphantly as he managed to subscribe the commlink to the wireless network.  Thinking quickly, the scientist subscribed all of the group’s commlinks to the wireless network of the building.  Moreover, Carlito was able to pull up a map of the building layout as well as detect signals of all the other nodes and commlinks in the Obiettivo Building.  

Carlito created an ARO detailing the building schematic.  In the ARO in front of him, the building appeared as a 3-D wire mesh with each node and commlink showing as little red orbs.  The first floor of the building housed the casino area proper.  There were two sub-basements and eigthteen floors to the building.  The building had three stairwells, one running from the first floor to the top floor and two others going between the first floor and the first sub-basement and the first sub-basement to the second.

The scientist made sure all the team’s commlinks stayed in hidden mode so the building’s network would not detect the intrusion.  Carlito explained to the team, “All the guards are wearing RFID badges so they will show up on here, so keep an eye out for any moving nodes – those will belong to the SecSpecs!”

Analyzing the building further, the human found many of the nodes were tied to sensors along the first floor and the first sub basement.  There were also sensor devices arrayed through out the stairwell running from the first floor to the roof.  _That’s strange_, thought the scientist, _According to the layout, there is a second sub-basement, but I can’t seem to pickup any wireless reception from that area_.

Carlito also noticed that many of the nodes were also subscribed to a master node on the third floor; _Must be the command center_ thought the scientist.

Meanwhile, Alexander began to listen to the security specialists’ chattering on the voice channel of the wide area network.  Six guards where stationed on the first floor of the building – they seemed to be engaged in a game of poker now that the patrons of the casino were long gone.  Six more guards where arrayed outside – four on the ground at each corner of the building and two on the roof.  _Of course, the two on the roof have been neutralized_ reasoned the elf.  Finally, six more security specialists were located in the first sub-basement, including the Lieutenant whom periodically would ask for guards to report.

After the team completed reconnoitering the area, much argument ensued regarding the best means to get down to the second sub-basement – the team figured the safe would be there.  However, neither rappelling down the elevator shaft nor traversing the stairwell with its sensors seemed palatable to the group.  Finally, Slone came up with an idea.

“Let’s just rappel down the sides of the frakin’ building and break in on the second floor!” exclaimed the exasperated Troll, whom was sick of arguing about the plan.

“Yeah,” agreed Terrance, “I like that idea way better than Carlito’s plan to blow up the roof”

“Hey, don’t blame me,” whined the scientist, “It was Tommy’s idea!”

So the team prepared the rappelling gear to zip down the sides of the building.  Carlito hitched himself in tandem with Slone since the scientist was not particularly athletic.  Terrance would rappel down on his own line – he had done this maneuver many times.  

“See you down there,” stated the shaman as he jumped over the edge and recast a Levitate spell.  The mojo flowed down and Alexander pulled up just as he reached the third floor.

Fortunately, the SecSpecs outside on the ground floor were not paying much attention to the roof – they still figured their buddies were still alive to look out for them.  Slone and Terrance made the descent without attracting any notice.

Slone cut through an exterior glass panel using some of the tools he had looted from Team Ninja-Gaiden and entered the second floor.  The floor, much like the rest of the building, was abandoned – there weren’t even lights.  The troll’s natural thermographic vision kicked in and Slone declared the room safe to proceed.

The team made their way to the second floor stairwell and Carlito attempted to hack into each sensor as they passed to conceal the team’s movement.  Once the team made into the stairwell, the group hurried to the first floor.

Terrance peaked through the stairwell doorway to observe the situation on the ground floor.  Perhaps 15 meters away from the central elevator shaft and stairwell, the six first-floor guards were all sitting at a table playing a game of Texas AROed’em.  Approximately 15 meters in the other direction was a corner stairwell leading to the first sub-basement.  Directly in front of the stairwell door was the first entrance to the building.

Meanwhile Carlito reached under his shirt and pulled off an aerosol spray from one of his abdomen nipples.  The scientist lightly spritzed Destructor nanites onto the cement wall separating the stairwell from the elevator shaft.  Carlito patiently watched as the cement dissolved in front of him and the shaft came into view.  Once the scientist was able to establish a wireless signal to the smart platforms below, he attempted to spoof the devices by sending false wireless packets whose instructions appeared to come from the command center.  _I wish I had more experience with electronic warfare!_ lamented Carlito.

In any event, Carlito signaled to the group to get ready and sent a series of false packets to the drone instructing them to open fire at random.  Despite Carlito’s misgivings about his skills, the drones complied with the scientist’s orders and began to unload shots at the walls of the elevator shafts.

And then the quartet sprang into action.

Terrance’s wired reflexes activated first.  The amped-up street samurai kicked open the first floor stairwell door and swung his Ares Alpha around towards the six guards still seated at the table.  In Terrence’s hyperkinetic state, the SecSpecs seemed frozen in stride as they appeared shocked at the cacophony emanating from the elevator shaft, but they hadn’t yet jumped up.  The street samurai sent a mental command via his smartgun link to use the Alpha’s single shot mode.  _APDS bullets are expensive_, reasoned the street samurai as two rounds from the weapon immediately dropped two security specialists.  A private ARO appeared in front of the samurai counting out shots fired, _5…6…_

Carlito’s commlink sent warning signals as an intruder hacked through his firewall like Paper Mache.  An icon of a cackling dwarven Musketeer popped up in an ARO.  _Son of a Biscuit!_ thought the human as his commlink systems started shutting down.

Slone towered over the crouching Terrance and launched a grenade towards the sitting guards.  The troll’s well-placed salvo landed on top of the table and the explosion scattered the remaining four SecSpecs – killing one of them outright.  _Good thing I had Carlito disable the safety timers on my grenades_, Slone thought.

Alexander, whom was still monitoring the guard’s communications circuit, heard the lieutenant order his minions to get into position as the smart platforms blasted way.  “Watch out!” yelled the shaman to his comrades.  However, the elf had other ideas.  The shaman pulled down the mojo and turned himself Invisible.  Reaching over the scientist, the shaman yanked the aerosol canister from the human and ran out the central first floor stairwell towards the corner stairwell leading to the first sub-basement.

The remaining three SecSpecs finally were able to recover and they fired bursts at Slone and Terrance whom were taking cover near the central stairwell.  Slone’s rugged hide, cybernetic implants and thick armored jacket absorbed the guard’s fire, but the elven street samurai took some blunt trauma from the impact of the rounds.

Carlito attempted in vain to stave off the hacker’s onslaught, but the Musketeer was too skilled.  The scientist watched in dismay as the hacker shut down various systems in his commlink.  The human cried out to his allies, “There's a hacker loose; watch yourself!”

Terrance ignored the scientist and moved out from cover; running towards the corner stairwell.  Firing another shot behind him, the street samurai killed one more guard; his ARO read, _7 Shots Fired_.

Alexander overheard the Lieutenant asking his SecSpecs over the commlink channel for a status report and yelling at “The Musketeer” to do something about the drones.
Instead, the Musketeer hacked into Terrance’s commlink.  The elf was surprised as his smartgun link shut down and his smartlenses showed a solid black ARO obscuring the entire range of his vision.  “Frak, I’m hacked!” yelled the street samurai.

Slone had had enough of the hacker’s shenanigans.  The troll reasoned, _Bet that Chiphead is at the command center!_  Slone ran up the stairs with his long troll legs taking the steps three at a time.  Quickly, the troll reached the third floor and saw a single room with light a few meters from the stairwell.  Racing to the room, Slone turned the corner to the doorway and saw a dwarf with a commlink sitting on a cot wearing tighty whiteys and an old Niel the Ork Barbarian t-shirt.  The troll smiled and let loose two bursts from his Ares Alpha – and then there was a dwarf Musketeer lying in a pool of blood.

After the hacker fell, the elf’s commlink operations rebooted.  Terrance killed the last two security specialists on the first floor with shots 8 & 9.  The elf made it to the entryway of the stairwell and leaped over the railing to land on the first sub-basement below him.  Terrence saw two more guards waiting behind cover at entryway to the sub-basement.  However, the elf was faster than the guards and shots 10 and 11 laid the SecSpecs low.

Alexander sustained his Invisibility spell and ran around Terrance to observe the action in the sub-basement.  Situated in the center of the basement were the elevator shaft and the second stairwell leading to the lower level.  Both the doors of the elevator and the doorway to the second set of stairs were on the opposite side of the shaft from were the shaman stood in the corner doorway.  Carlito’s hacked smartplatforms still thundered away at random inside the elevator shaft almost causing the shaman’s ears to bleed.  Three more security specialists were positioned behind cement support columns – all with weapons trained at the doorway in the corner.  However, the elf’s Invisibility spell cloaked his presence, so Alexander slipped out from the doorway and went around the central shaft the long way towards the elevator doorway. 

Once Carlito regained control of his commlink, the scientist ran down the first floor stairwell just in time to spot two of the exterior guards poking their heads around the sides of the doorway to the entrance.  The human whipped out his Yamaha Sakura Fubaki light pistol and fired two bursts at one of the Security Specialists; his first shot missed but the second burst wounded the SecSpec and knocked him prone.

Nevertheless, the second guard opened fire on the hapless scientist, but the SecSpec could not find his target.  Carlito ran to put his back to the exterior wall so the outside guard faced an oblique angle from the doorway to fire upon the scientist.

Slone ran back down the stairs to find Carlito in trouble.  The troll launched a second grenade at the doorway and it landed exactly in the middle of the two guards; the explosion killed them both.  

“Beat it kid,” grunted out the troll, “I’ve got this entrance covered.”

As Alexander snuck around behind the elevator shaft, the lieutenant somehow noticed the elf’s movement.  Turning around, the lieutenant shot his Ares Predator IV into the empty air where he thought the shaman was lurking.  The elf pulled down the mojo and launched a Stunbolt at the lieutenant – nearly knocking him out in one blow.  _Frack!_ thought the lawyer, _That was too close!_

Meanwhile, Terrance poked his head around the doorway at the corner stairwell to observe the SecSpecs preparing to open fire.

_Slot’em if they can’t take a joke!_ thought the elf as he burst out of the doorway attempting to dodge the hail of bullets coming his way.  The three guards opened fire, but their bursts found nothing but air and Kevlar – the agile elf’s gymnastics avoided the most serious damage and his armored jacket soaked the rest.  Once he cleared the doorway, the street samurai fired two more single shots, 12 & 13 according to his ARO’d counter, which blasted away two of the three SecSpecs.

Outside, the final two exterior guards finally made it to the entrance to the Obiettivo Building.  As the security specialists rounded the corners of the entryway, they shot at the troll to no avail – their Ares Predator heavy pistols simply didn’t have the stopping power to penetrate the troll’s defenses. 

Slone smiled grimly when he realized his advantage over the SecSpecs; he simply walked up to the entrance and shot both guards with his Ares Alpha at point blank range.  Needless to say, the exterior was soon secured.

The lieutenant crawled to the doorway leading down to the next sub-basement and sat with his back to the door.  The lieutenant’s brain felt like it was on fire and he could barely concentrate enough to plead for back-up over his comm-channel.  

Alexander slyly followed the lieutenant to the stairwell entrance and noticed that, according to Carlito’s building display, there were two more guards waiting behind this doorway.  Stepping over the oblivious lieutenant, the shaman activated the door’s electronic lock and stepped aside.

The panicked stairwell guards, whom had been waiting for intruders, blindly opened fire at the open doorway – killing their own lieutenant in the process.  _All too easy_, smirked the satisfied lawyer.

Shot 14 killed the final basement guard and Terrance gave the all clear signal over his commlink.  Hearing the all-clear, Slone and Carlito, made their way downstairs to join the others.

The street samurai bumped into the invisible Alexander near the doorway leading to the next sub-basement and heard the elf whisper that two guards were waiting on the stairwell.  Terrance burst around the doorjab before SecSpecs could react and fired two rounds – shot 15 did its job and laid out a guard, but 16 must have been a factory reject, because the guard managed to survive and run down the stairway to warn his companions.

Alexander chased the last guard down the stairs and finally made it to the second sub-basement.  As soon as the elf passed through the stairwell exit, his commlink connections went dead.  

_That’s not good_, reasoned the elf; so the cautious shaman astrally projected to observe the layout of the floor.  The elf could see the dull grey reflections of the material world in his astral vision.  The tiny sub-basement had a short hallway with the stairwell door, the elevator entrance to its left, and another door on the left side of the elevator – all on one wall.  

The guard had run down the hallway to the far door – Alexander could see a bright splash of emotion were the Secspec’s bloody hand had pushed open the door as he had gone through.  Following the guard astrally, Alexander pulled up short; just past the far door was a short corridor leading to the room with the vault.  However, blazing in astral space, the shaman could see an Astral Ward blocking the hallway past the door and a lurking spirit keyed to the barrier.  _Better wait for the others – that spirit looks nasty_, reasoned the elf.

Once the rest of the team made it downstairs, they paused to catch their breath and make a new plan.  From Alexander’s astral surveillance, the team knew that six heavily armored security specialists waited on the other side of the astral barrier.  The barrier would prevent any living matter from crossing – but bullets would pass through just fine.  The last wounded guard from the sub-basement was stuck in the corridor between the vault room and the hallway door – he couldn’t join his companions due to the barrier and he knew better than to run back into the arms of his assailants.  So the broken guard simply sat down on the floor and bled, weeping in pain and frustration.

Carlito finally figured out why the second sub-basement was sealed off wirelessly from the rest of the building; the walls and doorways likely were lined with copper wire mesh.  “It must be a Faraday cage!” exclaimed the scientist.  

Shortly, the quartet developed a plan for attack.  Alexander and Carlito pried open the door to the elevator shaft.  The elevator car with the smart platforms was stationed at the sub-basement floor above them; so the duo crawled into the empty space under the car and took cover.  

Meanwhile, Slone and Terrance positioned themselves near the elevator doors adjacent to the hallway door leading to the vault.  With his back to the wall next to the entryway, the troll nodded at his colleague and flung open the hallway door with his left hand.

Immediately, the six guards opened fire at the doorway.  Their assault rifles blasted the door to kindling and left pockmarks on the cement wall opposite the entry.  Slone waited for the first salvo of rounds to pass and propped his Ares Alpha over his left shoulder.  Firing blindly, the troll’s grenade ricocheted down the short corridor behind the entry and landed towards the rear of the vault room.  The resulting explosion snuffed out two of the SecSpecs immediately and wounded the rest.

After the blast, Terrance popped around the corner and killed two of the injured guards with shots 17 & 18.  However, the elf’s eyes grew wide when he saw the last two security specialists take aim with the underbarrel-mounted grenade launchers from their AK-97s.  “Incoming!” yelled the street samurai as he attempted to dive for cover behind the troll.

Yet, Terrance’s warnings came too late. First, one grenade, then another, landed in the hallway almost at the feet of the troll.  The two concurrent blasts completely incapacitated the svelte street samurai.  Even Slone was injured as the two grenades tore off small chunks of flesh from his hands and face.

“Frak this!” yelled the bloody troll whom was enraged from his wounds.  Before the smoke and dust could completely clear, Slone ran down the hallway until he crashed into the astral barrier. Undeterred, the bodyguard aimed his Alpha at the remaining guards and let loose with two bursts.

The troll wiped blood from his brow as the final two guards fell to the ground.  Slone gazed down at the ruined body of the sub-basement guard beneath him.  The hapless SecSpec been caught in the blast radius of all three grenades. 

The troll thought, _Looks like Chunky Salsa_.

Carlito jumped back up to the sub-basement and tended to the fallen street samurai.  Yanking a syringe from one of his abdomen nipples, the scientist plunged his nanite-seeds into the gut of the stricken elf.  The Savior nanites quickly worked to repair the lacerations and internal bleeding – from the inside out.  Carlito guided the actions of the nanites via his commlink and performed more traditional first-aid.  Shortly, the street samurai was motile.

Meanwhile, Alexander approached the astral barrier standing between the team and the vault.  “Get ready,” the elf told the troll.  The shaman attacked the astral ward using, not his physical might, but rather, the astral strength of his personality.  The elf’s raw moxie penetrated the astral barrier sufficiently that both Slone and Alexander were able to move into the vault room.

No sooner than the ward went down, the spirit immediately fled at speeds only possible in astral space.  _Probably went to summon his Master_, figured the elf, but he spoke out loud, “We’ve got company incoming!”

Slone and Alexander wasted no time breaking into the safe.  The elf spritzed the safe with Carlito’s remaining Destructor nanites and waited for the metal to dissolve.

Yet, before the nanites had completed their work, the Magician whom had set up the ward returned via astral projection.  Although the Magician could not directly influence material events via astral space, she ordered her spirit to attack Alexander.

The elf found himself engaged in astral combat with the spirit.  Staving off the spirit’s onslaught, the elf made a critical decision; rather than fighting both the spirit and the Magician, the elf focused his counter-assault directly against the mage.  With a focused astral thrust, Alexander knocked the Magician unconscious.

The spirit, suddenly free from the Magician’s control, immediately turned on its former Master.  Alexander watched in astral space as the spirit tore into the Magician, utterly rending the woman’s soul to pieces.  The shaman thought, _And that is why I don’t summon spirits!_

Once their adversaries had been laid low, the team began to loot the building.  Carlito was able to determine that, even though the Musketeer was in charge of the command post, the dwarf never had activated any external alerts.  Coupled with the fact that the casino night had inexplicably been hosted in the lawless Pullayup Barrens, the team figured that no help from the authorities would be forthcoming.

First, they emptied the vault of the certified cred-sticks from the casino night.  Next, the quartet collected weapons and commlinks from the bodies of the guards.  Terrance even pulled off the security armor from the vault guards.  _Maybe Carlito can patch these damaged suits together to make one good one_, thought the elf.

The scientist took the Musketeer’s commlink and the two smart platforms with the LMGs.  Slone backed up the CityMaster to the casino and the team loaded all their merchandise into the back.

As the team finished loading the equipment, a group of local gangers whom had heard the explosions and gun fire, approached the group.  Alexander noticed the gang’s colors and figured the ragtag lot was a small time outfit known as The Chulos.

“Hey Vato,” called out the leader, a Hispanic woman, “What the frak you doing, Senor?”

“Collecting my mortgage payment,” replied the tired elf, “What of it?”

“Well,” chuckled the Chicana, “If you want to talk about payments, we should talk about what you’re going to pay us to walk out of here alive.”

“That so?” stated the elf flatly, “Why don’t we talk about how much I will give to you so I don’t have to kill everyone in your gang instead?”

La Chicana watched as Slone “accidentally” dropped one of the machinegun firing platforms and Terrance adjusted the sights on his assault rifle.  “Alright,” swallowed the gang leader, “What did you have in mind?”

In the end, Alexander ended up giving the gang two suits of security armor and 10 of the Ares Predator IVs.  While the rest of the team finished loading the gear, the elf sent Svetlana Simoneov a text message indicating their success and asking about the final drop off.

_Meet me at the Stuffer Shack at Highland park in Tacoma_, came the reply.  

“Stuffer Shack?” sighed the street samurai upon hearing the news – he felt a little anemic after all the adrenaline pumped out by his suprathyroid gland, “I’d rather go to The BarrelHouse of DenniWaffles instead, but whatever!”

As the team climbed into the beat-up Citymaster, La Chicana called out to the lawyer, “Hey, you gotta name, Vato?”

The shaman turned to the ganger leader and replied, “Call me, McQueen.”

_The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
Cause London is drowning and I, I live by the river_
The Clash, _London Calling_​


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## Zen_Pollo (Apr 12, 2009)

*Showdown at the Stuffer Shack*

Stuffer Shack.  The Den of Dehydrated Delicacies; the Vault of Varicose Victuals.  Great tracts of neon and fluorescent lights that leech away color to make everything a uniform, dull gray indicate that you have arrived at the home of synth-alcohol, soykaf, porno-simchips, Holohayo 3D greeting cards, pneumatic fluid for your bike, cheap fetish trinkets for the magical wannabes, soygrits, and a full line of stuffers with no redeeming nutritional or social value. Yep, the good ol’ Stuffer Shack, home to a smell you can’t recognize (and probably don’t want to) and thousands of nuyen worth of stomach-rotting chow. As an added benefit, it’s open 24-7-365.
--Catalyst Game Labs, _Food Fight 4.0_​
Terrance burst through the Stuffer Snack doors at 5 am.  The elf had had a long night and he needed some munchies – right now – “Want them stuffers, Dammit!”  The street samurai barely registered a couple of wannabe rockers pretending to make-out while they shoplifted pet food from Aisle 7.  The elf immediately went to Aisle 15 towards the back where the packaged snacks were located and _Got Stuffed!_  The ravenous elf needed to feed his suprathyroid gland or he would pass out from exhaustion.  As he stood in the Aisle ripping open bags of soysnaxs and devouring kelpicrunch nuggets, advertising AROs popped up around his perceptual range spamming him with merchandising ploys.  

Alexander moved more sedately toward the back left corner to the soykaf dispenser bar.  The elf waved at the acne-faced human standing behind the register and the young man’s dwarven girlfriend sitting next to him on the counter.  The health-conscious elf was conflicted; on one hand, Alexander despised eating junk food, yet he also had to admit a certain nostalgia from his youth about _Gettin’ Stuffed!_ at his local Stuffer Shack.  So the elf compromised and ordered up a soy schmoothie with an extra shot of gluten from the self-service ARO.

Carlito moved to the right side freezer looking for semi-prepared food that he could nuke in the store’s _StufferWave!_  The scientist noticed a man in a trench coat removing half-gallons of ice cream from the freezer, opening them surreptiously and taking big licks from the top.  The germ-a-phobic human made sure to avoid that section of the Shack.

From the front of the store, Slone called out to the shaman, “Hey, get me a Super Sloppy SoyStuffer with Triple BurgerNeatMeat!”  The troll stood next to the entrance and pretended to be playing some of the simsense arcade games, such as “Little Mutant Vik Ninja Cyberboy! 3”, “Orbital Ninja Death Commando 5”, “The All-New Ultimate Bike Race Ninja Street Duel”, and his personal favorite, “Street Fighting Magical Ninja 8.”  Of course, Slone had always had bad luck with video games – in fact more often than naught, the games ate his cred and simply crashed – and this time was no different.  “Who built this frakin’ box?” the troll thundered at the attendant nearby at the front register.

The troll was so busy rocking the arcade machine over the admonishments of the clerk, that Slone almost missed the two black SUVs pulling up to the front of the store.  Svetlana Simoneov and her crew of six toughs stepped into the store and surveyed the situation.  Ms. Brickhouse smiled at the troll at the arcade center to the left of the entrance and decided she wanted a large soydog on a bun – with a pumpshot of glooey cheesimelt.  

So the Russian moved towards the self-service kitchen in the rear of the store.  On the way over, Ms. Brickhouse barely acknowledged both of the elves whom had moved to the register to pay for their Stuffers.  

A subcompact car parked next to the SUVs and an attractive mother dragged her young brat of a son screaming into the store.

“I’ve had it with this game!” roared the troll as he reared back his fist to punish the display.  Just as the Slone’s fist was about to impact the holovid, the subcompact car exploded in the lot.  The blast launched the troll through the arcade section and over the counter near the register; Slone sacked the dwarven girlfriend like a 25kg bag of soy-suet. 

The rest of the Stuffer Shack erupted in pandemonium as consumer packaged goods flew everywhere – the motions of the articles kicked off annoying AROs in the customer’s smart vision.  The first few aisles of goods completely collapsed spraying viscous multicolor sudsy goop all over the store.  The MILF and her brat-kid were buried under the rubble.

Four thugs jumped through the storefront wreckage and started laying down suppressive fire over the occupants of the shack.  Two other goons stayed back and kept a lookout outside the store.

Seeing his beloved Stuffers laid to waste, something snapped inside Terrance.  Dodging the spray of lead from the storefront, the street samurai yelled inchoate curses at the assailants and blasted two of them straight to hell.  Once the elf’s cyber-reflexes kicked in, the samurai began to snatch random flying foodstuffers from mid-air and crammed them into his gaping pie-hole.

But the Russians were not amused.  _Those bastards sold me out to the Finnegans_, reasoned Svetlana; so she ordered her Vory Shestiorkas to shoot the elves in the back.

Alexander never saw it coming.  The elf was slowly turning to face the Irish mobsters at the front of the store.  When the first shotgun blast hit the shaman in the back, it felt like his heart had stopped.  Alexander crumpled to the floor in a pool of his own blood.  To add insult to injury, white sudsy liquid detergent splashed all over the elf’s gaping back wound, causing the lawyer to scream and pass out momentarily from the pain.

Terrance didn’t fair much better from his shot to the back.  At least the street samurai fell unconscious before Alexander’s green lumpy soy smoothie splashed all over his face.

The Russians even foolishly attempted to blow Slone away, but the juggernaut troll soldiered through the hail of buckshot and leveled his trusty Ares Alpha towards the Shestiorkas at the back of the store.  Firing from his underbarrel-mounted grenade launcher, Slone yelled at Svetlana, “Stuff your fat face, and show yourself out the door!”

The blast decimated the Russian mob – and the Stuffer Shack’s Dispenser Bar.  Four of the Shestiorkas died instantly, Svetlana was almost killed and fell screaming; only one Russian soldier remained and he laid on the floor crying out in Russian for his babushka.

Even Slone had to pause a moment to witness the glorious destruction he had meted out on his former lover.  The Dispenser Bar was totaled – carbonated water sprayed every square inch of the Shack, syrupy fizzyglug concentrate dissolved the particleboard ceiling tiles near the back, pressurized jets launched soydogs like missiles across the store, even Carlito’s _StufferWave!_ flew across the aisles to crater a hole in the freezer section glass.

But Carlito had another mission – to revive his fallen comrades.  The scientist crawled amongst the aisles dodging fire from both sides as he made his way to the area near the front register where Alexander and Terrance had fallen.  The human pulled out his nano-syringe and injected his gut-juice into the shaman first and then the street samurai.

The street samurai found himself on his back in the pet food aisle.  Grabbing a busted sack of dog biscuits, the elf ran back to the store alternating between stuffing fist-fulls of treats into his mouth and ducking for cover.  When the disgruntled elf reached the rear aisle near the last Russian Shestiorka, Terrance executed him gangster-style muttering, “Nobody stuffs my own stuffer!”

When Alexander woke up and recovered himself, self-interest once more took over; “Frag this, I'm out!” exclaimed the shaman as he turned himself Invisible.  The ensorcelled shaman ran back out the decimated store front and attempted to flee the scene.  Yet, one of the Irish mafia whom had been waiting outside was a mage that was standing overwatch in astral space.  The shaman stood out, clear as day, to the waiting mage.  For the second time this morning Alexander was shot in the back – this time by a Manabolt.

Slone turned his attention to the two gangsters outside the store.  Two bursts from the troll’s Alpha later, and both the mage and the hacker were struck down -- the last of them covered in blue sticky goop from a ruptured can of paint.

Terrance killed the one of the mobsters from the front with his own Ares Alpha and proceeded to grab some more dog food, “These doggy stuffers are not that bad!”  _Good thing I practice competitive eating in my spare time, thought Terrance as he wandered the aisles grabbing assorted foodsnaxs.
Slone accosted the last Irishman whom was attempting to run out the front of the store.  One troll-sized fist to the face later and the gangster went down like a chump.  The troll grabbed the front of the gangster’s shirt and yanked him back to consciousness, “What is the meaning of this!?!!?”

Meanwhile, Carlito ran back outside to tend to the shaman.  As the elf sat up, he muttered, “I'm going to Olga’s.   I’ve had enough of that Russian slitch – at least I won’t get shot at the brothel!”

Although Terrance’s wired reflexes prompted him to dial-back his speed once the fight was over, the street samurai had other ideas.  The elf kept his reflexes engaged and began to eat at cybernetic speeds – a veritable torrent of krill and soy made its way down his poop-shoot.

The troll continued to interrogate the last gangster, “It this all of them?”  Slone threw down the gangster in disgust and the poor sob cracked his skull on the pavement.

Yet more of the Irish Mob kicked open the door near the register leading to the back storeroom.  The mobsters yelled at everyone to stay down, so Terrance dropped to the floor – but continued to snack on some raw baking flour.

Seeing the commotion in the Shack, Slone decided to circle around the back of the store to flank the new group.  The troll’s long legs carried him down the alleyway next to the store.

Terrance once again switched his Alpha to single shots and killed two more Irishmen.  Raw Purple Meat splattered when the gangsters fell into a puddle of goop created from the wreckage of the Dispenser Bar.  The elf thought to himself, Hmmm, so tasty.

The enthralled street samurai got up and executed two more of the second group whom burst through the storeroom door.  The elf ran into the back room and was able to wound the final two mobsters – one of whom looked like a mage.

The mage launched a wicked Manabolt at the street samurai, but somehow missed.  The mage’s companion also fired his UZI III at the retreating elf, but could not find his mark either.

Finally, Slone rounded the corner and saw the ensuing gun battle from the rear door of the Shack.  Two bursts from the troll’s Alpha finished the job on the mage and the final gangster.

Carlito heard sirens in the distance and warned the rest of the crew to hurry up and get out of the Stuffer Shack.  The scientist ran back into the store and grabbed the unconscious Svetlana – as well as her commlink.  Terrance nabbed a second commlink from one of the Russians and used it to start one of the SUVs.  Carlito followed suite with Svetlana’s commlink.  Slone and Alexander hopped back into the CityMaster with the badly concussed Irish mobster.

Shortly, the team motored away from the wreckage of the Stuffer Shack in the three vehicles.  When the team had made it to relative safety, Carlito used his medkit to revive both the Irish Mobster and Svetlana Simoneov.

Slone interrogated the Irish mobster and discovered the individual worked for a mid-level mob boss named Barry O’Leary.  Apparently, the boss had had a leak inside Svetlana’s organization and had found out about the drop.  The casino night was supposed to be a money laundering operation for the Irish Mafia but the team had made away with the dirty funds.  Looks like we just made a powerful enemy, Slone thought.

Terrance sat down to sort through the cred-sticks from the casino, the vehicles, drones, weapons and miscellaneous loot from the heist.

Meanwhile, Ms. Brickhouse and Alexander began to negotiate in earnest.

The lawyer first threatened the Russian boss, “Why don’t we take all the money and we’ll let you live?” 

“My life isn’t worth that much money,” countered Svetlana, “If you take it all, you may as well shoot both of us in the head – neither of our lives is worth that kind of money to my superiors.”

Terrance called out to the other elf, “Alexander…”

“Not now, Viper, I’m busy…How about 50%,” offered the lawyer to Ms. Brickhouse.

“I might part with 15%, but then you would have to launder the money so no one could trace it back to you,” replied Svetlana, “Instead, why don’t I provide you with 1.5% of the funds fully laundered from my personal accounts – that way no one has to know about this deal and we both get away clean?”

The street samurai tugged on the lawyer’s sleeve, “Seriously, I need to talk with you…”

Alexander shrugged off his companion and ran his hand through his hair which was still sticky with blood and stuffer-goop.  The shaman looked around at the vehicles, weapons, and other assorted loot, It’ll take us weeks to unload this mess.

Besides, the elf was sleepy – “Fine, we’ll take the 1.5% and one of the SUVs.”

Terrance groaned out loud and threw up his hands in exasperation.

“I knew you were the smart one,” smiled Ms. Brickhouse.  The Russian recovered her commlink from the pile and climbed into one of her trucks.  Rolling down the window, Svetlana called out to Slone, “Leave the Irishman to me, lover.  Why don’t you throw him into the back?”  

As the troll grudgingly complied, Svetlana eyed him like the crabmeat from the night before last.  In addition, the Russian issued a financial transaction from her commlink to Alexander’s.

As the SUV pulled away, Alexander noticed the amount on his commlink, a cool 400,000 nuyen.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, Chiphead,” exclaimed Terrance, “There was 26 million in certified cred!”

The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in
Engines stop running, the wheat is growing thin
A nuclear era, but I have no fear
Cause London is drowning and I, I live by the river
The Clash, London Calling​_


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## Zen_Pollo (Apr 12, 2009)

*Epilogue*

_Setting:_ A tri-vid cast of the popular Horizon Hardcopy news program. The anchorwoman stands floating in 3D space as the news events, videos, and customized news graphics swirl around her. The woman’s red and white nanotech hair implants change color by the story. During the opening credits an Orcan voice says in a deep voice:

_What’s on the Horizon? News! Sports! Infotainment! It must be time for HORIZON HARDCOPY…oohh Yeah!_

Good evening Washingtonians, this is Horizon Hardcopy and I’m the Lollipop.

*Tonight’s Top Story:* Strike Continues!

The Seattle Longshoreman’s strike has entered its 14th day as the disgruntled workers shut down Seaport operations as well as Sea-Tac’s Aircargo Terminal.  Governor Peter Posniak had the following comments:

_A video clip shows a rotund, yet well-appointed, middle-aged human speaking in a gruff voice._

“I implore the UIL to come back to the negotiating table so we can settle the outstanding issues under dispute.  However, this city still operates by the rule of law and if the workers will not commit to a settlement, the Metroplex Guard will intervene”

In a related note, Governor Posniak also indicated that discussions are underway with the Salish-Shide Nation in order to temporarily increase food import quotas.  However, the NAN has refused to increase food exports in light of the continuing disputes with the UCAS over air and water pollution.

Food rioting near the NAN border has increased as truckloads of food stuffs have been attacked by hungry protestors.  Bandits have hijacked cargo destined for distribution to customers throughout Seattle.  Lonestar spokesmen have declined to comment.

Signs of food scarcity abound in the Metroplex due to the Longshoreman’s strike.  Hungry vandals recently ransacked a Stuffer Shack in Tacoma and made off with foodstuffers as well as causing considerable damage to the establishment

_An image shows the wreckage of a stuffer shack.  A harried looking, bald manager speaks to a reporter in front of the ruined store._

“They took thousands of dollars in merchandise, I’m ruined!”

At least 24 people were killed in the needless tragedy precipitated by food shortages due in part to the UIL strike.

Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!

*Political News:* Proposition 1812!

The special election for Proposition 1812 is less than four weeks away.  The Proposition would allow Seattle to negotiate its own trade relationships with the NAN in an effort to break the deadlock over environmental concerns blocking the importation of foodstuffs into the Metroplex.

The Seattle Free Trade Zone proposal would also allow goods to flow into the Metroplex under the aegis of megacorporations’ extraterritoriality protection.

Johnny Johns, Chairman of the United Corporate Council had this to say:

_A video clip shows a politician with great looking white hair and a power-suit speaking to a reporter_

“The extraterritoriality clause of the Proposition 1812 is vital to afford Seattle the same the legal mechanisms as the triple-A rated megacorporations in order to negotiate favorable trade relations with the NAN and Tir Tairngire on behalf of the citizens of this great Metroplex.”

Opponents, such as the UIL dockworkers and their allies in organized crime, fear that the extraterritorial clause would allow Seattle-based Megacorps to nullify generous labor contracts and permit the corporations to monitor border crossings in an effort to control the flow of contraband and illegal narcotics.

Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!

*In Other News:* Orphans Ripped Off!

The Federated Rescued Orphan Newborns Trust Charity Casino Night met with calamity as gun-toting thieves murdered at least 19 people and stole the entire proceeds from the event.  

Reputed crime lord and co-chairwomen of the event, Rowena Finnegan had this to say:  

“Whoever would rob from this worthy charity is truly a despicable character and should be dealt with by the authorities.  I’m certain the villains will be brought to justice soon.”

In a Horizon Hardcopy exclusive, an anonymous Lonestar agent uploaded the following comment to our Horizon Hardcopy Datahaven:

 “That charity was a front for the Seattle Underworld.  Everyone knows it!”

However, Ms. Finnegan vehemently denied the charity was a money laundering front for the mafia.

Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!

*On a Lighter Note:* “Bear”-ly There!

_A cartoon graphic of an old 2D television show shows a bear with a top hat and tie raiding a picnic basket_.

Once again, intrepid citizens captured footage of the Mystery Bear.  This time the Mystery Bear was caught rummaging through the garbage behind the Ork with a Golden Tooth Restaurant and Diner in Renton.

_A grainy camera using nightvision optical enhancements shows the rear-end of a large form bending over an open dumpster.  The form suddenly stands upright and blocks out the entire frame which cuts out to static_.

This is the fourth sighting of the Mystery Bear in the last two weeks.  Authorities encourage citizens to contact animal control immediately if the bear is sighted.

I’m the Lollipop and that’s all the news for this evening.  Remember:

Horizon Publishes the Hardcopy, You Decide the Truth!


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## Zen_Pollo (Apr 12, 2009)

*Chapter 3 Completed*

Chapter 3 of Seatlle Calling has been completed.

The complete PDF of this chapter is available Here

Coming Soon: 

Chapter 4:Wet Work, Pure and Simple!


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