Mission 4: You don't need to see our identification.

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> It's another uneventful week for the burgeoning mercenary group after breaking into Stella's house. Perhaps they should invest in advertising, as Targo suggests? Of course, they *have* already made enough to pay for the month's rent, so that's a decent start, right? Anyway, they can do little but wait in the following days, it seems, and rely on word of mouth to send business their way. (more)
<El-Cideon> The following Saturday, it finds them. Or, well, something finds them. A long, black aircar pulls up outside the former police station, quite unannounced. The driver steps out, walks around to the side, and opens the door for someone else.
* Targo sits up in his chair, taking notice of the expensive-looking trappings. "Now don't we look respectable," he remarks, waiting with interest.
* Forrest sees none of this, since he's inside the office trying to get either Targo or Wilhelmina interested in a game of dominoes while they discuss potential adverts they could run. "Maybe somethin' with like a huge xeno or somethin' attackin' a bunch a' folks, then we swoop in guns blazin' and save the day?"
* Targo is, of course, in the lobby!
<Wilhelmina> "It must have fire," Wilhelmina returns succinctly.
<Forrest> "Well flames blazin', sure," Forrest nods. "Just so long as none of the flames hit anythin' apart from the xeno."
<Wilhelmina> "They can't?"
<El-Cideon> A man steps out of the car; the driver also opens the door of the station for him before he steps inside. The client(?) is tall, looks middle-aged (which could mean anything these days), and has a fringe of blond hair that's shorn like a military buzz cut. He's dressed like a high-powered businessman on his day off, all sleek, synthetic fibers, with a long black overcoat. He walks in like he owns the place.
<Forrest> "Gives a bad impression," Forrest replies sollemnly.
* Wilhelmina frowns.
<Targo> The man is either very good at his job, or liable to burn out quickly, Targo decides. "Good afternoon, sir!" he greets, walking towards the man and extending a hand. "Is there something the Lagoon Company can help you with?"
<Forrest> Seeing the new arrival, Forrest gets up and offers him a handshake with a big ol' smile. "Howdy! Welcome to the Lagoon Company. What can we do fer you?"
<El-Cideon> "I intend to find out," he says to Targo, cryptically. He takes a seat in front of Targo's desk without it being offered, seeming to automatically identify him as the leader (though he does take a moment to return Forrest's handshake, with a bemused grin).
* Targo lets his hand drop to his waist, equally bemused at the man's terrible lack of manners. What's the point of a suit if you don't accompany it properly? He sits back across from the fellow, steepling his fingers. "Straight to business, then?" he inquries, electing to dispense with further pleasantries. (Besides, it's probably better if he doesn't get Wil to make tea.)
* Wilhelmina just goes back to polishing Roberta, ignoring the client just as much as he's ignoring her.
<El-Cideon> "Indeed. Something I've always appreciated about working outside the 'official' business world is leaving behind its accompanying formalities." He waves dismissively. "My name is Erik Bergstrom. You may not have heard of me, as I gather you three are new to the area, but travelling in such circles as you do, it would not have been long before my name came up."(more)
<El-Cideon> "I run a legitimate shipping business, have for some decades now, but have found a profitable distraction in importing various technological devices for those wishing to bypass bureaucratic tedium. Or, more often, the probing gaze of the law. One such device, of particular interest to myself, was waylaid in transit. I would like you to retrieve it."
<Forrest> "Any idea who waylaid it?" Forrest asks, loitering near Targo's desk.
<El-Cideon> "I know precisely who took it, and where it is. I *could* utilize my own security forces to reacquire the device, but...I'll be frank: I wish to see what you are capable of. I've found it pays to keep tabs on any potentially disruptive influence in Pendleton."(more)
<El-Cideon> He grins. "Apologies, Mr. Silver, but any private, armed band qualifies as such. I see this as an opportunity for myself to assess an unknown variable as well as for yourself."
<Targo> "Wellington, if not Pendleton, is coming to be a popular place for groups such as ours. You must be a busy man as of late, Mr. Bergstrom," replies Targo, raising an eyebrow. "I don't discriminate on work, but I must admit to feeling somewhat affronted. Where did you get our good name from, might I ask?"
<El-Cideon> "I believe the archaic term is 'through the grapevine.'" Another grin. "As I said, I make a point of being notified about any new commercial ventures in Pendleton. That's only good business sense."
<Targo> "A busy man indeed. Well, I hope this can be a precursor to a long, happy, and most importantly, *professional* relationship," responds Targo, smiling himself. "The who, when, what and why, then?"
<El-Cideon> "Of course. One of my normal shipments, within which this particular device was concealed, was hijacked by a street gang," he frowns, like he feels dirtied just acknowledging that such lowly groups exist, "who call themselves the 'Ronin Dogs.' They dwell in an abandoned industrial complex down the river a ways. I suspect they don't know what they have in their possession--their normal trade is stealing cars."(more)
<El-Cideon> "The object you're looking is a steel-gray cube, perhaps a foot wide. Anything else in the shipment has likely been scrapped for parts by now, but I doubt they'd know what to do with this. I should note that the group contains at least one military dropout, so they are probably not completely harmless. Given that, I am prepared to offer twelve thousand credits for the retrieval of the device."(more)
<El-Cideon> "How you accomplish this, and what you do with the 'Dogs,' is not my concern."
<Targo> "Twenty thousand," replies Targo, without preamble. "Half in advance."
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom grins, as though he'd been looking forward to this part. "Fifteen. That's five thousand for each of you. If you require anything more, I assure you that the dogs will have plenty of contraband for you to seize as compensation."
* Forrest thinks fifteen sounds pretty good, but isn't so stupid as to say so while Targo is negotiating for more.
<Targo> "You're no fun. I've been preparing an argument on these lines since the second I saw the limo pull up, and now you've cheated me out of it." Targo makes an exaggerated sigh. "Fifteen it is- I still want at least five in advance. Operational expenses. You'll get your cube, don't worry."
<El-Cideon> He chuckles. "Apologies for denying you your haggling, then. I'll be sure to ease towards an agreement more gradually next time. Very well, five thousand in advance. I'll arrange the transfer of the funds immediately." He stands up. "It's been a pleasure meeting you. I look forward to good results."
<Targo> "You as well. We'll contact you in a few days."
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom exits, leaving the group alone (and five thousand credits richer).
<Wilhelmina> "So, ever heard of these dogs?" Wilhelmina asks, setting Roberta aside for the moment.
<Targo> "I haven't associate with many canines on this planet, yet," replies Targo, standing up. "But there's always a first time. Want to go check out the area?"
<Forrest> "Nope, but haven't really gotten much up on the local colour," Forrest shakes his head. "Guess we could go check it out, though."
<Wilhelmina> "They might be waiting for us. But, then again, it's a gang." Wilhelmina shrugs. "I'll be sure to bring lots of fire."
<Targo> "
<Targo> "I'm sure you can handle them if they come after you in the middle of the afternoon," replies Targo, dryly.
<Wilhelmina> "If too many of them come, I'll just continue inside and get the cube," Wilhelmina agrees, glancing at Forrest. "Coming?"
<Forrest> "Sure. Lets try not to get the van stolen," Forrest chuckles, grabbing his rifle and some ammo just in case there is any trouble.
<Targo> "Can't fault you for seizing opportunity. Ah, yes, please don't let that happen."
* Targo grabs his wallet and blaster and heads out the door himself. "Gonna go down and chat to ol' Murray, see what it's all about. Give me a call when you're done, hmm?"
<El-Cideon> Murray's setting the tables up when Targo ambles in. The bartender turns to dismiss him with a "We're not open yet" before recognizing Targo. "Oh, hey. What's up?"
<Targo> "Only one thing can make me come to a bar in the middle of the working day," replies Targo, grinning.
<El-Cideon> "Whiskey? No, wait, that was your friend."
<Targo> "If you're willing to open a bit earlier, I won't say no. Nah, we got ourselves another a job. Got to do with local gangs, so I was wonderin' if you might be able to tell me about the local, ah, culture, as it were."
<El-Cideon> A chuckle. "Such as it is, yeah. What do you need to know?"
<Targo> "Well, what do they do all day?" asks Targo, taking a seat. "With each other, I mean. Much infighting between the gangs, or do they mostly keep to 'emselves?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, you know, I always got the impression gangs existed to get in rumbles with each other. But I guess it depends on the group." He peers at Targo skeptically. "What are you guys getting into this time?"
<Targo> "Got to do with one group in particular," replies Targo. "Ronin Dogs, it's called. Wonderin' who likes 'em, who hates 'em, that sort of thing."
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+11 and gets 15."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> Murray thinks for a moment, absentmindedly fiddling with a washrag. "Heard of them. Some trouble with them stripping cars for parts a while back, think a couple got locked up. Not really my area of expertise. They work outside of the city proper, I think."
<Targo> "Mmm. Yes, gangs tend to like the lockups. Take it as a badge of pride, or so I hear," replies Targo. "Other thing... the contact is one Erek Bergstrom. He seems to think he's quite the famous man about town, so I'm surprised I haven't heard of him yet. Have you?"
<El-Cideon> Murray doesn't have to think about this one. "Rich bastard. Good at getting folks things they shouldn't have, I gather. Not that you heard that part from me."
<Targo> "I like to think we can trust one another to be discreet," replies Targo, standing up to leave the bar. "I'll be back for that whiskey in a day or two. Until then..."
<El-Cideon> "Sure thing. Good luck." He waves.
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> Forrest and Wil spend the afternoon tooling around the 'burbs to the southeast of Pendleton. The address Bergstrom gave the team is in a decaying industrial district near the river, the local business mostly having pulled up stakes and relocated further north. The local dweelings are mostly one-story affairs, and in bad repair even when still inhabited.
* Forrest keeps an eye out for any shifty looking folks or spray painted gang tags (they still have those in the future?) marking out the Ronin Dogs' turf as they slowly drive around the dilapidated area.
<El-Cideon> It's worth noting that there aren't many cars out in peoples' driveways. Anyone with a garage is using it or they presumably don't have a car for long. At a stoplight deep in the district, the duo can see, amidst other graffitti, what may be the gang's sign plastered on the wall of a shady convenience store. It's a bulldog, with the expected spiked collar...and a samurai sword in its mouth.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+9 and gets 24."12 [1d20=15]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Perception checks, dudes.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+13 and gets 29."12 [1d20=16]
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+7 aid?
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+7 aid? and gets 18."12 [1d20=11]
<Forrest> "Hey, Wil, don't look, but we've got a kid followin' us," Forrest speaks up quietly as they pause at a red light. "He's hidin' behind crap and then joggin' after us."
<Wilhelmina> "Sounds like fun," Wilhelmina comments, her eyes not straying from the front. "Want to nab the kid and get him to talk?"
<Forrest> "Could be risky right here in his gang's territory... think he's prob'ly gonna try and jack us, anyway," Forrest muses, slowly accelerating as the light turns green and ensuring his blaster lies within easy reach. "Lets see if we can lure him a bit away from the gang signs before making ourselves a target?"
<Wilhelmina> "Works for me," she agrees, keeping Roberta near, and in compact mode.
<El-Cideon> Again the kid speeds up to follow the truck (he's lucky you're actually obeying the stoplights, or he wouldn't be able to keep up!) He doesn't show any signing of leaving just yet.
<El-Cideon> *sign
* Forrest keeps driving around, trying to make his way past the area filled with bulldog tags. Once they've gotten some clearance from the area he slows down enough that the kid should be able to catch up to them easily enough if he really wants to.
<El-Cideon> The kid does so, darting around behind the truck to the driver's side and ducking low. He might be hard to spot if Forrest didn't know to look for him--but Forrest *does* know, and can just barely see him in the sideview mirror. When the truck stops at another light, the kid sidles up towards the front of the truck. He has an ordinary blaster pistol (poorly) concealed in his hand.
<Forrest> With one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his own blaster rifle on his lap pointed up towards the window, Forrest quietly mutters, "Here comes trouble," for Wil's benefit as he waits for the kid to make his move. Hopefully this won't all go horribly wrong and result in him being shot.
* Wilhelmina is quite ready to show to their new friend that hijacking them is a bad idea, when he appears.
<Forrest> Said rifle has the stock folded at the moment for easier use one-handed.
<El-Cideon> The kid leaps forward suddenly, jumping right up to the driver's side window and brandishing his pistol. "Alright, Mister, you're trespassing, and that means--holy shit." Apparently he didn't expect to see a gun pointing back at him.
<Forrest> "And that means drop your gun you dumb little shit," Forrest replies with a friendly grin.
* Wilhelmina decides to point her own gun at the kid with a flick of her wrist. Unlike Forrest, she isn't smiling.
<El-Cideon> He does so, hands in the air. The gun clatters to the ground. "Hey, look, I didn't see the mark on your car, so I had to grab it, alright? Shit. Are you guys cops or something? And--what happened to your face, lady?"
<Wilhelmina> "Can I show him?" Wilhelmina asks Forrest.
<El-Cideon> His eyes widen even further, and he looks to Forrest for...if not help, then a voice of reason.
<Forrest> "Since when'd you ever ask fer permission?" Forrest gives Wilhelmina a sidelong glance, still pointing his rifle at the youth. "Anyway, get in the back, kid. We're goin' fer a little ride." Taking his hand off the steering wheel, he flips a switch to cause the van's side door to slide open behind the front two seats shared by him and his lovely lady companion.
<Wilhelmina> "Courtesy. I'm studying it."
<El-Cideon> He looks around the street in depseration but, apparently finding no one to help, slides into the back seat, mumbling all the while. "oh shit oh shit oh shit."
* Wilhelmina keeps Roberta trained on their guest.
<El-Cideon> "So, uh, look." He seems the type to babble too much under pressure. "I know I'm not the one 'sposed to be asking questions here, but who are you guys?" He glances nervously at Wil again. "And, uh, girl."
<Forrest> Trusting Wil to keep their guest under control, Forrest closes and locks the side door before opening the driver's door long enough to scoop up the kid's firearm and set it on the dashboard. That done, he starts driving considerably faster than before to leave the area, intending to work his way back to the office. "We're what you could call private security consultants. Don't worry too much, just be cool and everything'll be fine."
<Forrest> "What's your name, anyway, kid?"
<El-Cideon> Having left the Dogs' core turf, no one else assaults them as they drive. "Uh, Berto. Berto Rubin."
<Forrest> "Okay, Berto. How's things going for the Dogs, these days? Hear you guys've been having some success on the old hijacking front," Forrest asks pleasantly as he drives along, switching on the radio to some good old country music.
* Wilhelmina winces at the music, her finger coming dangerously close to Roberta's trigger.
<El-Cideon> "Look...um, really, who are you guys? If you're cops, you have to show me a badge." He flinches at Wil, obviously watching her *very* closely.
<Wilhelmina> "You don't need to see a badge," she tells him.
<Forrest> "Private security, remember?" Forrest repeats. "Shit, son, all you need to care about is we're the folks with the guns and the questions."
<El-Cideon> "Okay, okay! Yeah, we do...and look, if we stole your car, it's probably scrapped by now, sorry!"
* Wilhelmina looks disappointed. "He probably doesn't know anything. It's a boring waste of time again."
<El-Cideon> Another alarmed glance at Wil. "Whu--hey, I know lots of stuff! Just don't shoot me!"
<Forrest> "Hey now, from the mouths of babes and all that," Forrest replies to Wilhelmina. "I'm sure our young friend here won't disappoint us any, will you Berto?" he glances back to smile at the gang-banger. "So, you recall hijacking somethin' recently, would've been comin' from the direction of the spaceport."
<Forrest> "The car or van or whatever don't really matter, it's what's inside that we care about. Big steel cube, 'bout a foot wide. That ringin' any bells in the old thinker?"
<El-Cideon> He licks his lips. "I wasn't on that run. I mostly just grab any stray yokels wander into our turf. Uh, not that you are one. Just looked like it. But some of the guys just took in a transport headed for the city. Had lots of high-tech junk on it. Some of the stuff they didn't have no use for, or sold it."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Anything they didn't know what it was, Gil--that's the boss--he took. They didn't let me in on what all that stuff was, I'm just a blood."
<Wilhelmina> "He's probably lying. Let's deal with him and get someone else," Wilhelmina suggests. "No one will miss him. Probably."
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13 is he legit?
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+13 is he legit? and gets 33."12 [1d20=20]
<El-Cideon> His voice rises alarmingly. "I'm telling the truth, really!"
<Forrest> "You'll have to forgive the lovely lady here. She has trust issues," Forrest speaks up placatingly, watching Berto through the rear-view mirror. "Now, Gil. That's an interesting name. Why don't you tell us all about Gil?"
<El-Cideon> "Uh, Gil Mack. I dunno if that's his real name, lot of the high-ups use 'sumed monikers. Scary guy, big scar down his cheek. Dunno how he got it. Not as nice as yours though, miss," he adds for Wil's benefit.
* Wilhelmina rolls her eyes, Roberta swaying, but never too far away from the kid. "Where is Gil?"
<El-Cideon> "He's probably at the base. ...Uh, he calls it the base. Says it's more professional. It's back the way we came from," he says, gesturing with his head. He still has his arms in the air. "Look, want me to show you?" he asks hopefully.
<Forrest> "Nah, I'm sure we can find our way," Forrest shakes his head easily, drumming his fingers on the wheel along to the music playing in the background. "So, Gil, huh. Big scary guy? Prob'ly keeps a bunch of scary guys nearby, too, right? Why don't you tell us about this base of his?"
<El-Cideon> "I--" He goes quiet for a moment, obviously torn between group loyalty and self-preservation. Finally, he caves. "'s an old repair shop, only we don't so much repair stuff there now as...uh, un-repair it. One floor an' a basement, only the ceiling's high inside and stairs go up to some offices...so I guess it's like two floors enclosed in one space or something. Front door, garage door, back door. That's it."
<Forrest> "How well guarded is- oh, shit, I love this part," Forrest pauses his questioning to sing out the next few lines of the song playing. Seemingly distracted, he asks, "What kind of music do you like, Berto?"
<El-Cideon> "Uh, not this kind," he says with a sheepish grin. "Sorry. There's usually 'bout half a dozen guys inside, maybe a couple on guard in the street."
* Wilhelmina winces again. "Fuck courtesy. Turn this shit off or I'll empty Roberta into someone."
<El-Cideon> Berto looks straight at Forrest. "Please turn it off!"
<Forrest> "Tch," Forrest grumpily switches the radio off. "Uncultured..." he mutters under his breath, trailing off into incoherent swearing.
<Wilhelmina> Wilhelmina's finger on the trigger relaxes, at last.
<El-Cideon> And so does Berto, quite visibly slumping in his seat.
<Wilhelmina> "Is Gil the army reject?" she asks Berto, unhappy at how he slumps over like he is out of danger.
<El-Cideon> "I think...one of the other guys joked once that they threw Gil outta basic training, and Gil cuffed him. I dunno if it's true, they don't tell me that stuff."
<Forrest> "Failed basic? What a woman," Forrest snorts, before looking apologetically at Wilhelmina. "No offence intended."
<El-Cideon> Berto practically beams on seeing a chance of his captors coming to blows.
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "I didn't wash out." She looks at Berto. "What about weapons? Traps? Alarms? Computer system?"
<El-Cideon> "We got a few guns...pretty normal stuff, no flamethrowers or nothin'. No fancy security. It's all about keeping an eye out for each other," he adds, with a one last, dying suggestion of group solidarity.
<Wilhelmina> "Would anyone really miss you?" Wilhelmina asks somewhat curiously, as she trains the gun on his forehead.
<El-Cideon> "SHIT--yeah, they would, don't, please." He clasps his hands together in a shameless display of pathetic begging for mercy. You get the impression it might be wise to relent before you have to clean something off the back seat.
<Forrest> "Ah, relax," Forrest seems to have gotten over the critique of his musical tastes. "We might not need to kill anyone if your information is good enough."
<El-Cideon> This is an obvious relief, as he slumps back in his seat again.
<Wilhelmina> "Really?" Wilhelmina asks in surprise.
<Forrest> "Well, maybe," Forrest shrugs. "I mean, if he tells us about the best time and way to sneak in there we might be able to get in and out with the box and no need to put down any dogs on our way. Be easier for everyone, wouldn't it?"
* Wilhelmina looks fairly disappointed, muttering that it's not why she signed up.
<El-Cideon> "There's always someone there," he mumbles. "Try 'round nightfall, I guess. They might be distracted."
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> With Berto safely out of harm's way in one of Lagoon Company's cells (and, more importantly, unable to warn his comrades), the team heads back to the Ronin Dogs' home turf. The neighborhood looks like a ghost town at night (maybe because of the Dogs' presence) and no one accosts the van this time. Stopping just a few streets down from the Dogs' home base, they can see two young men loitering out front.
* Kozzz is now known as Kotono
* ChanServ sets mode: +qo Kotono Kotono
<Targo> "Check the scanner. How many people are inside the joint?"
<Forrest> "Lets have a looksee," Forrest clambers into the back of the van where the scanner is set up and brings it online.
<Wilhelmina> "Are we sure we're not just killing them all?" Wilhelmina asks yet again. "It could be a public service."
<Forrest> roll 1d20+18
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+18 and gets 24."12 [1d20=6]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+18 reroll
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+18 reroll and gets 25."12 [1d20=7]
<Targo> "We can always murder them later," replies Targo, placatingly.
<Forrest> "Looks like eleven total, including the two out front," Forrest reports. "Seems to be three near the door. Lets wait a few and see if there's any movement, that'll help figure out if any are asleep."
<Wilhelmina> "Don't blame me if they steal the van in vengeance."
<Targo> "Ahaha, would I ever blame you for anything?"
<El-Cideon> The two out front, lit up by a light over the front door, pass a cigarette between each other, in flagrant violation of the fact that outdoor smoking is illegal here!
<Wilhelmina> "You make a fine point."
<Forrest> "Hmm... lots of movement, and the ones that aren't look to be by the door. Guards I figure. Doubt we'll catch them napping," Forrest admits. "Too many for much chance of sneaking in and out undetected, either."
<Targo> "If we want to catch them napping, we could probably come back at dawn," replies Targo, shrugging. "Never heard of a gang that's awake at dawn."
<Forrest> "Well, Berto seemed to think there'd be less of them around at nighttime," Forrest muses. "Could maybe check things out at dawn, though, sure. If there's more we can wait till tomorrow night."
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+8 and gets 20."12 [1d20=12]
<El-Cideon> OOC: 'nother Perception check, Forrest.
<Targo> "They probably know he's missing by now. Nightly get-together and all that. We could roll with this," replies Targo, shrugging. "Think you can cut their lights, Wil?"
<Wilhelmina> "Should be," she returns, looking around for the best place to cut off all power heading to the warehouse serving as the gang's base.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+13 and gets 25."12 [1d20=12]
<Forrest> OOC: +5 if using scanner
<El-Cideon> And it's at this point that the roof explodes near the back corner of the building. Shortly after a rush of smoke becomes visible, the team can hear shots fired inside.
<Forrest> "Huh... a new contact just came out of nowhere, near the- holy shit!" Forrest jolts back at the sudden explosion, looking out the window and then back at the scanner.
<Wilhelmina> "Think our client hired someone new?" Wilhelmina asks. "Whatever it is, sounds like our chance to grab the cube while everyone's occupied."
<Targo> "Did they come from outside?- that fucker, if he hired two groups... yeah, you're right. Fuck stealth, just take us up close," he orders, pulling out his blaster.
* Wilhelmina doesn't look bothered by explosions and gunfire. If anything, she seems excited.
<Forrest> "Looks like one just went down," Forrest reports from the scanner. "If we're gonna do something, we best do it fast."
<Targo> "Drive! Doors! Through them if you can! Now!"
<El-Cideon> The two mooks out front have backed away from the building a little, to stare at the roof in shock.
* Wilhelmina grabs Frederica's nozzle close, ready to greet whomever might be too close to the entrance once they run the van through the door.
* Forrest braces himself in the back of the van in readiness for the impending crash.
<El-Cideon> (OOC: Haven't entirely puzzled out the vehicle rules yet, so for now I'm just gonna say you break through. It was a shitty door anyway, I had that much stated out. >.>)
<Targo> OOC: From now on, Wil is our designated driver.
<Wilhelmina> OOC: Works for me
<El-Cideon> Lagoon Company smashes in through the garage door with a terric *crash* that jolts all aboard! Through the cloud of dust and debris, they can tell they're in a wide open space littered with other vehicles in various states of disrepair. In the front corner, where the human-sized door is, three gangbangers sit around a table. They rise immediately, swearing and pointing at the intruders.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Init.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11 DEATH
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 DEATH and gets 24."12 [1d20=13]
<Targo> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+5 and gets 13."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 Gangsta A
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 Gangsta A and gets 23."12 [1d20=19]
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 and gets 18."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 Gangsta B
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 Gangsta B and gets 10."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 Gangsta C
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 Gangsta C and gets 12."12 [1d20=8]
* Retrieving #dunes modes...
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Wilhelmina > Gangsta A > Forrest > Targo > Gangsta C > Gangsta B'
<El-Cideon> The gangsters are fifteen meters away from the team's entry point. All of them look armed and ready for action.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Go, Wil.
* Tai{sweetsweetsleep} is now known as Taishyr
<Wilhelmina> Though she would have preferred to keep her foot on the gas before slamming on the breaks and getting the van to skid all over the gangsters, the conditions sadly don't allow for it. Pushing the door open, Wilhelmina jumps out of the driver's seat and makes her way towards the trio, before letting loose with a jet of flame from Frederica!
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11 BURN
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 BURN and gets 25."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit, roll for damage.
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d6+5 FIRE
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d6+5 FIRE and gets 14."12 [3d6=1, 2, 6]
<El-Cideon> The gangsters are engulfed in flames! ...And so is their table, and the chairs around it. This doesn't stop the men from taking aim at Wil, however, and crying out in as much fury as pain!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 for blaster shot
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 for blaster shot and gets 13."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> But it's a miss! And now it's Forrest's turn to lay down the pain!
* Wilhelmina laughs madly as the shot misses her, while her unworthy enemies continue to burn.
<Targo> "That woman gives me the chills," mutters Targo, but he mutters very quietly.
<Forrest> Kicking open the side-door of the van, Forrest leans out and flips his rifle to autofire as he levels it at the burning group. "Dance you varmints!" he calls as a spray of blaster fire issues forth at the group!
<Forrest> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+1 and gets 9."12 [1d20=8]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3 (halved unless they have evasion)
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 (halved unless they have evasion) and gets 23."12 [3d8=8, 5, 7]
<El-Cideon> The spray of fire buffets the group, but they're not down yet!
<El-Cideon> OOC: You're up, Targo.
<Targo> Targo pops out the door and sends a metallic ball rolling towards the trio of men. A synthesized voice states "You're a winner!" before the grenade detonates, sending shrapnel flying everywhere!
<Targo> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+6 and gets 7."12 [1d20=1]
<Targo> roll 4d6 halved, I think. Man, that's embarrasing.
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 4d6 halved, I think. Man, that's embarrasing. and gets 15."12 [4d6=3, 5, 2, 5]
<El-Cideon> The men cry out in (more) pain, but stagger onwards! One of them wheels away from the group to get out of range of more area attacks, and levels his blaster at Wil, pulling off two quick shots!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2 Rapid Shot
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 Rapid Shot and gets 21."12 [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> roll 4d6+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 4d6+2 and gets 13."12 [4d6=5, 2, 1, 3]
<El-Cideon> It's a hit! And his companion moves away from the burning table as well, to take another hit at the scarred merc! They really don't like that flamethrower, do they?
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 Gangsta C's shot
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 Gangsta C's shot and gets 21."12 [1d20=17]
<El-Cideon> roll 3d6+2 for damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d6+2 for damage and gets 16."12 [3d6=4, 4, 6]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta A
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta A and gets 23."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta B
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta B and gets 25."12 [1d20=20]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta C
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 for fire damage on Gangsta C and gets 12."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d6 for actual damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d6 for actual damage and gets 4."12 [1d6=4]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11 for ???s init
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+11 for ???s init and gets 23."12 [1d20=12]
<El-Cideon> The enemies finally succumb to their wounds at last, now naught but flaming carnage on the floor! As one falls, he glances towards the stairway at his side, where another gangbanger is now emerging into sight (with, of all things, a freaking SWORD in his hands). "Ugetsu..." the dying man cries, "cut them to pieces!"
<Targo> "..."
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Wilhelmina > "Ugetsu" > Forrest > Targo'
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil's turn again.
<Wilhelmina> Though she'd been shot twice already, Wilhelmina merely laughs at the carnage as she lets Frederica's nozzle drop, grabbing her trusty Roberta and snapping off a shot at the crazy guy who brought a sword to a gun fight.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 and gets 30."12 [1d20=20]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Holy Shit, roll for crit damage
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 and gets 28."12 [1d20=18]
<Wilhelmina> roll 6d8+6
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 6d8+6 and gets 47."12 [6d8=6, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7]
<Wilhelmina> "Moron." Wilhelmina doesn't have much to say beyond that.
<El-Cideon> It's a terrific shot, the bolt smashing into the thug's shoulder and tearing out a great chunk of flesh! He roars and charges (well, staggers) forward, blade brought high to strike down his pporessor!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+5 Rapid Strike
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 Rapid Strike and gets 14."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> He stumbles at the last second, missing Wil by inches.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest.
<Forrest> "Partner, don't bring a sword to a gunfight," Forrest shakes his head sadly as he steps fully out of the van, flipping his rifle to single shot and levelling it at Ugetsu's head before squeezing the trigger.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+6 and gets 24."12 [1d20=18]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 and gets 14."12 [3d8=4, 5, 2]
<El-Cideon> And this shot brings the would-be samurai down, busting his head open in a grisly display!
<Targo> "Nice job," states Targo, heading for the stairs himself. "Let's hurry up before our competitors steal the show, eh?"
<El-Cideon> There's still shouting from upstairs, indicating things aren't over yet. There's a stairway leading up just by the flaming corpse of the man who greeted "Ugetsu."
<Forrest> "Right there with you, chief," Forrest hurries along after Targo.
<Wilhelmina> In no considerable hurry, Wilhelmina is content with bringing up the rear.
<Targo> Along the way, Targo suddenly whirls around on Wilhelmina and levels a syringe at her!
* Wilhelmina levels Roberta on him, eyeing the man.
<Targo> "It makes pain go away," he explains.
* Wilhelmina lowers the gun, rolling her eyes.
* Targo proceeds to inject Wilhelmina with the foul toxins that pass for a medpac these days.
<Targo> OOC: Take 10, +10 HP get.
<El-Cideon> The door at the top of the stairs is closed, but doesn't seem locked. There's the faint sound of voices inside.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Perception checks if you want to try to make the words out. -5 to the roll due to the general chaos going on around you.
<Forrest> Since he now has the lead, Forrest flips his gun to autofire just in case and then kicks the door open!
* Targo then turns to head back up the stairs. "They should be pretty shaken up by now. Peace of cake, I think," he opines, heading towards the door. OOC: Inspire confidence etc.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+8 sure
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+8 sure and gets 24."12 [1d20=16]
<Targo> roll 1d20+3 sure thing
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+3 sure thing and gets 11."12 [1d20=8]
* Wilhelmina switches to Frederica at the sound of voice in a cramped compartment.
* Targo is holding a grenade in one hand and a blaster in the other.
<El-Cideon> There's a terrible shriek from the back of the building, indicating whatever sordid drama is going on up there is drawing to a close.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11 init
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 init and gets 31."12 [1d20=20]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 and gets 25."12 [1d20=16]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+4 Weasel Gangsta
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+4 Weasel Gangsta and gets 13."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 Gangsta+
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 Gangsta+ and gets 18."12 [1d20=8]
<Targo> roll 1d20+6 init
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+6 init and gets 10."12 [1d20=4]
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Wilhelmina >  Forrest > Gangsta+ > Loser Gangsta > Targo'
<El-Cideon> There are of them waiting in the hall beyond the door. One has a rifle ready for anyone barging in; the other has a standard pistol and looks less confident.
* Wilhelmina is somewhat curious how their confidence would hold under fire, and resolves to find out.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Go, Wil.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 25."12 [1d20=14]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d6+5
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d6+5 and gets 16."12 [3d6=3, 5, 3]
<El-Cideon> It's a full-on hit, and both of the enemies are covered in flames!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest.
<Forrest> "Howdy!" Forrest gives the pair a friendly grin and tip of the hat before he sprays the hallway with plasma/laser/accelerated particles.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+1 and gets 10."12 [1d20=9]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3 surely halved
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 surely halved and gets 16."12 [3d8=3, 3, 7]
<El-Cideon> The barrage of bolts tears into the men, but doesn't bring them down. The one with the rifle grits his teeth through the pain and levels it at Forrest!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+8 and gets 26."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> roll 3d8+5 for damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d8+5 for damage and gets 13."12 [3d8=3, 2, 3]
<El-Cideon> The blaster bolt strikes a glancing blow, searing Forrest's hip! Meanwhile, the lesser of the two enemies flails pathetically at the flames, spending all his time dousing the fire.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Targo.
<Forrest> "Oww! Sonnova-" Forrest curses as he's hit, almost stumbling.
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Wilhelmina >  Forrest > Gangsta+ (on fire) > Loser Gangsta (C-1) > Targo'
<Targo> OOC: Can I see anything beyond the room?
<El-Cideon> OOC: There are a couple doors behind the two mooks. Other than that, it's a bland, barely finished hallway.
<Targo> OOC: Either of 'em open?
<Targo> OOC: well, no, I guess not.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Not at the moment.
* Targo puts another bolt into the more competent man, realising a need to move quickly!
<Targo> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 and gets 15."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Miss.
<Targo> OOC: Aw.
<El-Cideon> 1d20+5 for fire
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 for fire and gets 15."12 [1d20=10]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d3 for damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d3 for damage and gets 1."12 [1d3=1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil, you're up.
<El-Cideon> If so inclinded, the group could notice at this time that the shouting from the back room has ceased.
<Wilhelmina> "Who said you could put that out?" Wilhelmina asks angrily, sending a fresh bout of flames at the two. "Burn, motherfuckers!"
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 30."12 [1d20=19]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d6+5
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d6+5 and gets 13."12 [3d6=1, 6, 1]
<El-Cideon> The lesser of the two gangsters crumples, his death wail a pietous screech. The man with the rifle soldiers on!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Wilhelmina >  Forrest > Gangsta+ (still on fire) > Targo'
<Forrest> "Down, Fido," Forrest pronounces, switching his weapon to single shot and levelling it at the remaining gangster's chest as he fires.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+7 and gets 8."12 [1d20=1]
<El-Cideon> The blaster bolt veers off to the right of the target's head! The man sneers and fires back. "Try Cujo!" he snarls.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+8 and gets 21."12 [1d20=13]
<El-Cideon> roll 3d8+5 damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d8+5 damage and gets 17."12 [3d8=3, 2, 7]
<El-Cideon> Another shot strikes Forrest as Targo prepares to move!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Targo
<Forrest> "Ahh, fuck!" Forrest grunts as he's shot up. "Aren't we mister fancy pants with the classic literature references?"
* Targo sends another shot flying the man's way. "We don't have time for this shit! Forrest, get back out there and check the goddamn roof!" he yells as he shoots.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 and gets 19."12 [1d20=12]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit
<Targo> roll 3d8+3 this is so point blank, I totally forgot
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+3 this is so point blank, I totally forgot and gets 15."12 [3d8=6, 5, 1]
<El-Cideon> He staggers, but remains standing! OOC: Wil, you again.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+5 and gets 6."12 [1d20=1]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d3 damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d3 damage and gets 3."12 [1d3=3]
<Wilhelmina> "Hmph." Wilhelmina switches weapons once more, since Targo wants to end this quickly. Leveling Roberta at the burning man's forehead, she squeezes the trigger, tilting her head.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 and gets 28."12 [1d20=18]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 17."12 [3d8=4, 4, 6]
<El-Cideon> And finally, he falls, collapsing to the ground in a burning heap (a spectacle that will no doubt soon become familiar to Pendleton).
<Wilhelmina> "Cujo is fine too."
<Targo> "No time for pithy quotes. Hurry up," grunts Targo, heading through the door closer to the previous gunshots.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Free action, there are no visible enemies. One door is straight down the hall, the other is one your left.
<Forrest> "Roof? Right, fine," Forrest takes a deep breath to try and steady himself before he heads back down the stairs, intending to sneak out the back and try to find a vantage that'll let him look at the roof.
<El-Cideon> The door has a simple mechanical lock which seems intact.
* Targo shoots the lock and moves on- well, no, he has to let Wil look at it first.
* Wilhelmina kneels next to the lock, trying to take it out quickly.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+14 and gets 19."12 [1d20=5]
<El-Cideon> The lock easily yields to Wil's mechanical skills.
* Wilhelmina pushes the door open, still kneeling, and aiming Roberta inside.
<El-Cideon> As for Forrest, he finds no one outside. Though there is--is that a fucking zipwire someone set up from another building?
<El-Cideon> Three corpses lie on the floor inside, Judging by their attire, they were formerly the gang leaders. Various sorts of debris line the walls of this room, which was clearly a cozy lounge area for the leaders. Among the garbage of one table right across from Wil is a cube matching Erik's description.(more)
<Forrest> "What the..." Forrest eyes the line for a moment before he radios Wil and Targo to report it. "Looks like someone set a zipline here. I'm gonna keep an eye on it, take a shot at anyone leaving if I can." Then he settles in at a good vantage point to snipe from cover if anyone attempts to leave via this route.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 stealth
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 stealth and gets 13."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> Also in the room is a man with a heavy, military-grade rifle aimed right at the door, though he barely pays it any attention. He's wearing what looks like an old, gray army outfit, though what group is unclear. With his free hand, he's flipping through a sheaf of paper. "You the folks causing the ruckus downstairs? Thanks, but I work fine on my own."
<Targo> "Same to you," replies Targo. "What're you here for?"
* Wilhelmina keeps silent for now, letting Targo try to work it out, though her own rifle is aimed back at their friend, her aim steady.
<El-Cideon> He looks up now. He has short blond hair and disturbingly angular features. "This," he says, gesturing with the wad of paper. "You?"
<Targo> "The cube. I don't see any disagreements," he continues, holstering his pistol and entering the room in a non-threatening manner.
<El-Cideon> "Nor do I," he says, backing away and keeping an eye on Targo and Will, but lowering his weapon.
* Wilhelmina doesn't quite lower it, but takes her finger off the trigger, waiting on Targo to retrieve the cube.
<El-Cideon> The man doesn't interfere in any way.
* Targo pulls out his commlink. "Forrest, other intruder isn't hostile, you can stand down." After that, he heads inside and picks up the cube, weighing it up. While he's at it, he checks out the rest of the room for any particularly interesting gear.
<El-Cideon> There's a wide array of weapons, but none of it looks more dangerous than what Lagoon Company already has. If they want a spare blaster pistol for each of the team members, they can take them. The cube itself is lighter than it looks. It looks like metal, but doesn't feel like it.
<Forrest> "Got it," Forrest relaxes a bit, heading back inside towards the van so he can check the scanner.
<El-Cideon> The stranger folds the sheaf of paper and slips into a pocket. "Good thing I got here before you guys. Might've had to kill you all if you'd spotted this," he says, patting the pocket. "Nothing personal, of course."
* Wilhelmina isn't in the mood for a pissing contest, and waits for Targo to decide they're ready to pull out.
<Forrest> "Looks like the area's clear, nothing on scope except you guys," Forrest radios in once he's set up in the van, trying to sit in a manner that doesn't disturb his wounds.
* Targo is hardly opposed to being pragmatic, and takes the guns that the gangers clearly don't need anymore. "Oi, Wil. Go check out the cars down below. Could probably use a few spare parts around the garage, right?" At that remark, Targo snorts. "The guys who say that are always the most disposable, aren't they? Whatever, I don't care about national security anyway."
<Wilhelmina> "You want me to leave you alone here?" she asks, just to make sure she didn't misunderstand.
<El-Cideon> He laughs. "Oh, I'm not with the government." He smirks, and offers Targo his hand. "Slastyaranov. And no, I didn't sneeze." It's worth noting that his English is totally unaccented. "Nice work down there. There were quite a lot of them, no?"
<Targo> "I'll be along in a moment," replies Targo, tossing her the cube. "Looks like you took care of the harder part, though," he opines, glancing at the bodies lying around. "Been doing this a while, eh?"
* Wilhelmina places it away, and nods curtly, withdrawing. She picks up a rifle next to one of the dead gangsters, before making her way down to look at the parts, as Targo asked, while leaving him alone with the interloper. Don't ask, don't tell and all that.
<El-Cideon> He shrugs. "Oh, off and on, here and there. I like to think I'm rather good at it. I am still alive, after all." Another shrug. "Well, I have a package to deliver, as you no doubt do as well. Au revoir and so on?" He heads for the gaping hole in the roof, apparently intending to leave how he came in even if he doesn't have to. "It's more fun this way," he says by way of explanation. There's just the tiniest hint of lunacy in his eyes.
<El-Cideon> There's just the tiniest hint of lunacy in his eyes.
<Targo> After being in close quarters with Wil for many days on end, Targo is thoroughly inured to merely 'tiny' traces of lunacy. "Uh-huh. You ever do come to find a need for a partner, give Lagoon Company a call," he responds, smirking. "For employment or for our services, I'll extend either to you."
<El-Cideon> He returns the smirk. "I work alone, thank you. I wish you good fortune in your endeavors, however." With that, he exits the way he came in.
* Targo snorts, and heads down to join Wil. "You did the solo merc stint on your own for a while, yeah? How good was the cash?"
* Wilhelmina shrugs, pausing in her observation of a rifle. "Better. But there's a need to deal with a lot of boring or annoying shit. You can do that for me instead, so we're cool."
* Targo snorts. "Yeah, I'll take paperwork over amateur porn."
<Forrest> "That how you had to make ends meet? Shit," Forrest pokes his head out of the van and looks at Wilhelmina with a new respect.
* Wilhelmina pauses again to look at him. "No."
<Forrest> "Oh." Forrest settles back down again. "Anyway, you get the cube? We should probably split before the authorities show up."
<Wilhelmina> "Got the cube. Got other things. Anyone wants the sword?" She snorts to herself at that one.
<Targo> "Yeah. Wait, authorities? Show up? Here?" asks Targo, with some surprise. "Maybe... tomorrow. Yeah, pick it up. We'll hang it on the wall."
* Wilhelmina laughs, doing just that.
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> Later that night, Bergstrom shows up at the Lagoon Company HQ to collect his merchandise. He looks pleased at the team's success.
<Targo> roll 1d20+10 tech check
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+10 tech check and gets 24."12 [1d20=14]
<Targo> "Here you go. Ah, Bergstrom... you weren't hiring us to run interference, were you?" asks Targo, in a neutral tone of voice.
<El-Cideon> He takes the box, and narrows his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
<Targo> "I'll give you this one for free- we weren't the only intruder present. After some papers or something, I didn't see what," replies Targo, leaning back in the chair. "It's no real concern of mine if you didn't know. I just don't like surprises, that's all."
* Wilhelmina shrugs to show that she doesn't care either way.
* Forrest likewise isn't overly bothered. They got paid and that's all that counts.
<El-Cideon> "It's a surprise to me as well. My concern was to reacquire my property and assess your skills. Any rogue elements in the situation were not my doing. I can only presume these men were stealing from all the wrong people."
* Wilhelmina can't help but steal a glance at the wall, where the sword will get mounted soon enough.
<Targo> "Must be like you say. I guess your assessment of us will be flawed as a result, but if the price is right, we'll take all the tests you want," returns Targo.
<El-Cideon> "No need to worry," he says, shaking his head. "It only speaks well of you if you succeeded despite surprises." He turns for the door. "I'll arrange for the remainder of the funds to be transferred immediately. Thank you for your assistance."
<Forrest> "Any time, Mr Bergstrom," Forrest nods respectfully towards their client.
<Targo> "And you for your patronage. Come again!"
<El-Cideon> ---