Mission 5: Never tell me the odds!

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> The day after Bergstrom's mission sees a terrible storm sweep through Pendleton. It's the sort of dreadful freezing rain/ice/hail mix endemic to the region. (Everyone is glad that cars abandoned actual tires centuries ago, of course). Lagoon Company spends the morning hunkered down at HQ, waiting out the worst of the storm. (more)
<El-Cideon> Of course, there IS a bar just down the street if they need something to warm them up, but it's a little early in the day for drinking. Sometime around noon, Bergstrom calls again--but with the phone this time!
<Targo> "
<Forrest> Forrest intends to spend the day laid up in bed to recover from being shot a few times, so the weather bothers him not at all.
<Targo> Targo has some kind of rabid fear of the cold, which has lead him to hunker in the corner of his own room, absolutely swathed in blankets. Unfortunately, this means there's only one candidate to answer at the moment.
<Targo> *storm
<Wilhelmina> "Yes?" Wilhelmina asks, picking up the phone. She makes it quite clear that she's doing whatever sob is on the other end a favor by saying that much.
<El-Cideon> "It's Erik Bergstrom," the voice on the other end of the phone says. Wil can almost *hear* him frowning at her tone. "Could you possibly transfer me to Mr. Silver?"
<Wilhelmina> "He's sick."
<El-Cideon> "Is he? That's unfortunate. He seemed quite well yesterday. And yourself? You're recovering well from being shot?"
<Wilhelmina> "It happens," Wilhelmina responds, finding it a suitable answer.
<El-Cideon> "I suppose," he says, sounding skeptical. "In any event, I have no further work for you at this moment, but wished to relay some information I neglected to mention yesterday. A friendly warning about one of your competitors."
* Wilhelmina couldn't care less. But Targo would probably want to know, and be all whiny and annoying if she doesn't ask about it. "Oh?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes. You may wish to watch out for the Sanada Group. Established security team similar to your own. Work out of an office building on the east side, near the river. Superficially respectable, worked for a number of the prominent corps, but quite willing to work outside the law to get ahead."(more)
<El-Cideon> "And they don't care much for competition. I don't believe you need to worry about them assaulting your place of business--that would be too much even for Pendleton--but if the two of you were to meet in the field, well...who'd be able to say afterwards that you weren't dead when they found you? It's only a matter of time until they take an interest, so I'd suggest you watch your backs."
<Wilhelmina> Assaulting their place of business... Wilhelmina could actually go for that. But this Sanada Group probably isn't stupid enough to try it. "Okay."
<El-Cideon> "I've employed them once or twice in the past. They're effective enough, but I find their leader...disagreeable. Lagoon Company has proven quite a satisfactory alternative, so do take this warning as a sign that I wish to continue our relationship in the future. Farewell for now."
* Wilhelmina feels extremely uncomfortable. "Right. We're, erm, happy to work with you, too. In the future."
<El-Cideon> There's a click, and then Bergstrom is gone.
<Wilhelmina> Relief replaces discomfort, and she hangs up the phone herself.
<El-Cideon> It's a long and uneventful day after the call. The wind howls outside and the rain tears at the windows. The best place to be on a day like this is in bed with a pile of blankets and some hot chocolate! The weather finally calms down in the afternoon, though, and by evening it's merely overcast outside with an unpleasant chill in the air.(more)
<El-Cideon> Murray's has opened up down the street and the usual patrons make their way inside, slip-sliding down the ice-covered streets.
* Targo doesn't feel much like eating out today, but does make his way out of his room (which is mostly bare, aside from a bed, desk, and closet.) Into the shiny, spotless kitchen he goes, seeking out a quick dinner.
<Forrest> Likewise, Forrest emerges in search of food, limping a little bit on his bad leg. "Targo," he nods in greeting to the other man, grabbing some sort of instant meal for himself.
* Wilhelmina is in the mood for chocolate, and ends up joining the two in the kitchen.
<Forrest> "'Eya, Wil," Forrest then nods to the last member of the team. Since everyone's now here, "So, what we goin' to do about the kid? I was thinking we could just drive him back to that neighbourhood and dump him."
<Wilhelmina> "Maybe he can clean," Wilhelmina muses. "Maybe he'll stay and clean for us."
<Targo> "Afternoon. I've got to give Theo a call today," he remarks. "See about getting some more equipment in... oh, him?" Targo looks rather dubious. "He'll not happily do that after we had his gang's digs go up in smoke. He'll be a parasite if we keep him around."
<Wilhelmina> "Parasites...." Wilhelmina frowns. "Speaking of them, one called today."
<Forrest> "Yeah, we don't need some gangbanger little punk cluttering the place up," Forrest agrees.
<Targo> "Hey, I'm not opposed to the notion of having some punk kid take out our garbage, but not one that might knife us in our sleep." Pulling out a prefabricated meal from the food processor, he grabs a spoon and starts digging in, glancing at Wil quizically between bites.
<Wilhelmina> "Eric something," she continues, trying to make herself a cup of cocoa. "Said we had competition. Sanada Group, based on the east side near the river. He didn't like their boss."
<Forrest> "Never heard of 'em," Forrest muses around a mouthful of pork n' beans. "Should probably check 'em out, though. Know what we're up against."
<Targo> "Bergstrom say much about their composition?"
<Wilhelmina> "Similar to us."
<Targo> "The competition likely to be friendly or unfriendly?"
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "Friendly competition? What's that?"
<Targo> "Your relationship with someone until they pull a gun on you."
* Wilhelmina considers some more. "Unfriendly, then."
<Targo> "I see. I might try and speak to their operator, though it may be a lost cause. But politeness never hurt anyone."
* Wilhelmina shrugs again. "Knock yourself out."
<Targo> "If they knock me out, will you come to my rescue?"
<Forrest> "Course we will," Forrest affirms. "You know all the codes for our bank account."
<Wilhelmina> "Sure. I'll bring fire."
* Wilhelmina blinks. "That won't be a problem."
<Forrest> "It would be if they tortured him for them."
* Wilhelmina glances at Targo. "Maybe I'll come as well."
* Targo picks up the newspaper, and flips to the careers section. Maybe he should've stuck with accounting, after all. "Mmm. Well, let's start by looking them up," he remarks, heading for the office computer and running a few searches for the aforementioned group. "And if you want any specialized equipment, now's the time to tell me!"
<Wilhelmina> "A flamethrower-equipped arm."
<El-Cideon> The Sanada Group is easy enough to find online. They have a public site--sparsely decorated and with minimal information, but just enough to get across their role as "security contractors," along with a listing of companies they've worked for. There's an office number and a request that potential clients call for more specific info.
* Targo checks to see if they've worked for any companies we've heard of before.
<Wilhelmina> "Who was their last client?" Wilhelmina asks, peering over Targo's shoulder.
<El-Cideon> None of the companies Lagoon has encountered thus far (Metasonix, Delasque, Arco) are on the list, but plenty of familiar names are. Mostly big players in high-tech industry. Trask Industrial (an arms manufacturer) apparently employs The Sanada Group for bodyguards when their executives are in town.
<Forrest> "Sound pretty successful. How long they been in business?" Forrest asks, peering over the other shoulder.
<Targo> "Must have been a while if the armament firms hire them," muses Targo, checking up on that, as well as who is nominally in charge of the organisation.
<El-Cideon> The rather concisde background states that they've been operating in Pendleton for four years now. The public site says nothing about any individuals within the organization, though.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Roll GI if you want anything that's not on the site, basically.
<Targo> OOC: Or.. I.. could.. call.. Bergstrom!
<El-Cideon> OOC: >.>
* Targo shrugs. "Fairly established. It was good of Bergstrom to let us know about them. I'll see if he can tell us a little more," he says, reaching for the phone himself and giving the man a callback.
<El-Cideon> He answers after two rings. "Ah, feeling better? I can't talk long, I'm afraid. Business to attend to this evening.
<El-Cideon> "
<Targo> "I am, thank you very much. That's fine, I just wanted to get a little more information on the Sanada group before I call them myself. Can you tell me much about the leadership?"
<El-Cideon> "Calling them yourself, eh? My condolences. The team was founded by--and is still run by--one Megumi Sanada. She will not be amused by a professional courtesy call."
<Targo> "Really? The type to turn down free exchange, eh? That's terrible. Are they a large group?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, maybe a dozen or so employees? Usually ranges from ten to twenty individuals. Sanada is quite selective in her hiring. And I don't doubt they'll be looking into you on their own in due time." There's a pause, as though he's listening to someone away from the phone. "I haven't long to talk now, Mr. Silver. Is there anything else?"
<Targo> "High turnover. I see. No, I'll let you go for now. Thanks for your consideration."
<El-Cideon> "Of course. Farewell for now." Then he disconnects.
* Targo frowns for a moment, and then starts looking up other security agencies working out of Pendleton. "In his own way, Bergstrom has recommended distance from our competitors, who outnumber us around five to one."
<Forrest> "Not the friendly sort, eh?" Forrest muses. "Guess we don't want to be victims of a hostile takeover, do we?"
<El-Cideon> There are a number of other such agencies at work in Pendleton. Most of them have public sites that are much more informative than Sanada's. Could be that Sanada (like Lagoon) is more prone to working illegal jobs than most of their contemporaries.
<Wilhelmina> "I said they weren't friendly," Wilhelmina grouses, seeming put off.
<Targo> "Yes, I'd much rather work with them than against them at this stage. The woman in charge seems the rough sort, though. I fear we would be the submissive side in any relationship- which, of course, is quite distinct from friendliness."
* Wilhelmina looks dubious at that.
<Forrest> "Reckon it might be best to just avoid them till we're more established," Forrest reasons.
* Targo checks out the ones with the best credentials. "In the process of becoming established, we will inevitably run into them," replies Targo, shaking his head. "They may have a burgeoning monopoly on certain kinds of contracts, one they will want to keep."
<Wilhelmina> "Sucks to be them. Let's invest in better office security and heavy weaponry?"
<El-Cideon> The phone rings, then. It's a new number, but the phone identifies it as a call coming from Murray's, down the street.
<Wilhelmina> "Missile launchers. Grenade launchers. Both would come in handy," Wilhelmina muses, losing herself in a fantasy.
<Targo> "I do intend to order some of them in," remarks Targo. "One sec." He grabs the phone- "Lagoon Company, Silver speaking."
<El-Cideon> There's the sound of idle chatter in the background, bar patrons settling into an evening of mindless self-indulgence. The bartender himself is speaking on the phone: "Hey, Mr. Silver. How's business today?"
<Targo> "With the storm and all? We took the day off," replies Targo. "Yourself?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, I live above the bar. There's no reason for me not to open up shop, really, 'specially with such dedicated alcoholics as we have around here. Anyway: met some tonight with a bit of a problem and immediately thought of you guys."
<El-Cideon> *someone
<Targo> "A marital, physical, societal or economic problem?"
<El-Cideon> "The latter." His voice lowers. "It's also the sort he'd rather avoid asking the police about, you know? He's still here, if you're interested in making some credits."
<Targo> "I'll be down in a few, then. Buy him a drink on me," replies Targo. Once he hangs up, he turns to the others. "Old Man Murray thinks there's some work for us from one of his patrons. Let's check it out."
<Forrest> Tossing the remnants of his meal into the waste disposal, Forrest briefly rubs his still rather sore leg before going to toss on his poncho. "Not so wounded I can't talk to a man."
* Wilhelmina is long done with her drink, and likewise ready, if not eager, to go and see a client.
* Targo bravely leads the way through Pendleton's monochrome... street.
<El-Cideon> A bitterly cold wind is blowing as the team makes its way down the street, gingerly across the iced pavement. The bar is busier than one would expect for such a cold day. Presumably Murray's regulars are loyal indeed. The bartender waves to the trio as they enter the bar.
<Targo> He does seem a friendly sort, after all. Targo strolls over to the bar, and nonchalantly orders a whiskey. "Where's our man?" he asks, on the side.
* Wilhelmina tags along mutely.
* Forrest nods in greeting to Murray, letting Targo do that talking thing that he does.
<El-Cideon> Murray pours Targo's drink and points to the far end of the bar. In a corner by the wall, a middle-aged man with thinning hair sits in front of an open book and a glass of what looks like water. If this man isn't a science teacher, something's wrong with the universe. (more)
<El-Cideon> "Sy Greenblum," Murray. "Tell him I sent you over. He's a bit of a flake, I've gotta warn you, but the money's real."
<Targo> "As real as money ever gets," replies Targo, wryle, before heading over to the man. "Evening, Sy," he says, pleasantly. "Murray said you could use someone to talk to, this evening."
<El-Cideon> He closes the book and sets it aside (it looks like some arcane physics text,) then peers up at Targo. The only thing that could complete the picture here is a pair of spectacles, but medical science eliminated the need for those long ago. "Yes indeed. Could I have your name, sir?"
<Targo> "Targo Silver," he replies. "Tell me your troubles."
<Forrest> "Forrest Powell, nice ta meetcha," Forrest adds, briefly tipping his hat to the man.
<El-Cideon> "I'm a research scientist for one of the corps. No need to mention which one, as this isn't a work-related issue anyways." He sighs, and then continues. "Murray tells me you folks are sometimes in the business of finding misplaced items? If so, I could use such services."
<Targo> "We do get up to that, every now and then. You can be frank about your problems with us, Mr. Greenblum."
<El-Cideon> "Well, I've found a profitable sideline in getting people access to...certain proscribed materials relevant to my work. Usually this goes off without a hitch. The delivery ship this time got through the gate from Coleille just fine, but someone in Wellington's Planetary Defense Force took uncharacteristic initiative and searched the ship."(more)
<El-Cideon> He shrugs. "Fine, we have protocols for that. The product was sent to the planet's surface in a pod. We've done it this way before, when orbital security gets tight for whatever reason. Keep the package small enough and no one notices. Something went wrong this time, though. It landed in the mountains."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Usually the designated drop point is in the forests out west. That's practically in my backyard. I'm not enough of an outdoorsman to brave the Shackletons, though. I know exactly where the cargo landed--there's a beacon inside that I can track--but I'm not prepared to look for it on my own. You know all the talk of bandits we hear these days? So what I need is an escort there and back."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Someone I can trust *not* to kill me once we've found the package. And if Murray says you guys are okay...well, that's promising."
<Targo> "Do you know if the PDF detected the drop?"
<Forrest> "Well, if'n you've got a beacon to track it with, that makes things mighty simple," Forrest agrees.
<Wilhelmina> "Bandits are not an issue," Wilhelmina adds, speaking for the first time.
<El-Cideon> He shakes his head. "No, I don't, but I can tell you that the package hasn't been moved since it landed. If they're going for it, they're taking their sweet time."
<Targo> "Or they're waiting to see who comes calling," responds Targo, tartly. "Well, we'll see. How much is this package worth to you?"
<El-Cideon> "Well...I'd hoped seventy-five hundred would be satisfactory. That's twenty-five for each of you. I already have some of the items necessary for such a trip: a day's rations, camping gear if it's needed, so on."
<Targo> "Acceptable, with one prioviso. If the PDF gives us any trouble, the price will go up if we continue the mission," replies Targo. "Bandits are in the cover charge, of course."
* Forrest nods in agreement with the stated terms.
<El-Cideon> He looks skeptical, but eventually nods. "Alright," He glances outside. "Much as I'd like to have it as soon as possible, a night like this isn't the time for travelling. Can we set out tomorrow morning?"
<Targo> "Works for me. Our office is just down the road, in the old police station. Come there when you're ready to go."
<El-Cideon> "Of course. See you in the morning." He goes back to his reading once the conversation's over.
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> The next morning is bright and cloudless; the sun soon begins melting the sheet of ice covering Pendleton's streets, sending veritable rivers of runoff gushing into the city's gutters. Greenblum shows up just after seven o'clock with a backpack full of gear, a hunting rifle, and a palm-sized tracking display that he checks obsessively.
<Targo> "We'll take our truck," explains Targo. "Forrest here is our fearless leader for this expedition, aren't you, Forrest? Could send him by himself if it weren't for the bandits, eh?"
* Wilhelmina volunteers to drive. By taking the driver's seat and daring anyone to object.
<Targo> OOC: Verbally? >_>
<Wilhelmina> OOC: By glaring
<Forrest> "Oh, sure," Forrest nods reassuringly. "Lots of experience outdoors here," he thumps his chest as he gets into the seat besides Wilhelmina. "Couirse if it was just me I might be able to sneak by them more easily, but I reckon all of us can handle any trouble."
<Targo> "Trouble will happen if we're ambushed on the road. On the mountain, I only anticipate cold. Lots of cold."
<El-Cideon> Greenblum is more than happy not to be driving, for his part. He sits behind Forrest, in the back seat, and fiddles with his tracker, cycling through various resolution views of the container's surrounding area. "It's in a spur to the west of Pike," he announces. "We can take the highway to Melville, at least, but past that it'll be rough."
* taitoro-marinoisreallyawesome is now known as sicktoro-gyaah
<Forrest> "Anyone mind if I put some music on?" Forrest asks, first turning the heater up to full before he reaches for the radio.
<Targo> "Fuck, yes, we all mind!"
* Forrest grumbles and hunkers down in his seat. This is going to be a long trip...
* Wilhelmina takes her hand off her carbine and starts the car.
<El-Cideon> And it *is* a long trip. A long and uneventful one, at least as long as the group is on the highway heading north. It's about an hour to Melville, and past that things start getting ugly. Population is sparser, roadsigns tend to be riddled with bulletholes or blaster marks. Eventually, past a settlement of a half-dozen houses that no one seems to know the name of, even the road peters out.(more)
<El-Cideon> The hills give way to alpine forest and soon there's no choice but to proceed on foot. Greenblum announces that the package is still some thirty kilometers to the north, so the group has quite a walk in store.
<Targo> OOC: Do we have enough supplies and such?
<Targo> OOC: I mean, I assume yes, but hey.
<Forrest> OOC: 5 days worth of rations, and a gun with which I can procure more rations. I'm good.
<El-Cideon> OOC: You brought enough food that you don't have to make Survival checks to hunt game or something, yeah.
<Forrest> "Should be about a day's hike," Forrest muses, checking the time. Might be better to stay in the van and wait till morning before setting off.
<El-Cideon> OOC: It's still morning. You left around 7AM.
<Targo> "Make sure we park the van somewhere people can't spot it from a distance," cautions Targo. "Don't want to come back and find it gone."
* Wilhelmina doesn't think anyone out here would find it, but doesn't have a problem with that plan.
<Targo> After that's done, it's clearly time to go!
* Forrest bravely leads the way, keeping an eye out for trouble as they hike through the woods.
<El-Cideon> The hike starts out uneventfully enough. After a couple hours, the sun is high in the sky, though this does little to offset the cold as the team's elevation rises. For the most part, the morning is a tedious slog broken only by the crunching of boots in snow (and whatever conversation the group feels like making).
<El-Cideon> Somewhere around noon...(OOC: Perception checks)
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+7 and gets 12."12 [1d20=5]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+13 and gets 33."12 [1d20=20]
<Targo> roll 1d20+8 if we don't hear the tree fall, will it make a sound?
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8 if we don't hear the tree fall, will it make a sound? and gets 14."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2 Greenblum is clueless
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 Greenblum is clueless and gets 8."12 [1d20=6]
<Forrest> "We can't stop here, this is wolf country," Forrest declares, picking up the pace.
<Targo> "Better than another xeno rhino."
<Wilhelmina> "It made for a decent trophy."
<El-Cideon> Greenblum, clearly winded, switches from an expression of irritation to panic and speeds up match Forrest's pace. "Xeno...rhino...?" he huffs.
<Targo> "Huge thing. Big as the truck. Forrest beat it to death with his bare hands."
<Forrest> "Don't worry, I reckon we'll know if one of those critters is around long before we see it," Forrest assures him. "And wolves aren't likely to attack a group as big as this one."
<El-Cideon> His eyes widen. "Well, I don't know if I should feel more or less safe given that you're prone to running into such creatures."
<Targo> "More! You wouldn't want to be out here with inexperienced types, right?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, true enough," he concedes. "You know, people on Earth used to kill rhinos. They thought they could make aphrodisaiacs from the horn. Silly nonsense. I wonder, did you keep the horn from yours?"
<Wilhelmina> "Yes."
<Targo> "Sure! We still have to get around to mounting it, don't we? But taxidermists don't have much of a market in Pendleton."
<Forrest> "Bit scorched up, mind you," Forrest adds sheepishly.
<Wilhelmina> "It looks more authentic that way."
<El-Cideon> "Oh? I thgouthy ou killed it bare-handed?"
<El-Cideon> *thought you
<Targo> "You don't want to see what Forrest's hands can do."
<El-Cideon> He nods sagely and continues the march.
<El-Cideon> "Truly I feel safer in the company of a man who can ignite a fire at will."
<Forrest> "Hah, that's nothing. You should see some of the stuff Willy gets up to," Forrest laughs.
<El-Cideon> "Oh?" He gives Wil an inquisitive look, then appears to reconsider whether he actually wants to know about her.
<Targo> "But make sure you wear goggles."
<Wilhelmina> "Don't call me that," Wilhelmina tells Forrest, ignoring the client altogether.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 and gets 18."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> OOC: 'nother Perception check. -10 mod.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20-3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20-3 and gets 1."12 [1d20=4]
<Forrest> "Oh, sorry ma'am," Forrest ducks his head respectfully towards the scarred woman.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+3
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+3 and gets 21."12 [1d20=18]
<Targo> roll 1d20-2
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20-2 and gets 12."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20-8 Greenblum is still clueless
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20-8 Greenblum is still clueless and gets 3."12 [1d20=11]
<Forrest> "Contact," Forrest reports as he unslings his rifle and points to a ridge about sixty metres away. "Guy over there was watching us with binocs, just ducked down the other side."
* Wilhelmina gets Roberta, looking for cover from the ridge in question.
<El-Cideon> There are plenty of trees to hide behind if there's need to do so.
<El-Cideon> "What'd he look like?" Greenblum yammers nervously, clearly unnerved. "A criminal?"
<Targo> "We'll soon find out," replies Targo. "Make yourself scarce for a moment. We'll flank around the ridge and see what's there."
<Forrest> "Looked like a guy. Targo, you got the sensor dish?" Forrest asks.
<El-Cideon> Greenblum glances around for a hiding place, and eventually ducks down next to a fallen tree covered with undergrowth.
<Targo> "I thought you had it."
<Forrest> "Guess it's still in the van, then," Forrest grins as he takes the safety off his gun. "Lets go have a looksee with the old mark ones, then."
<Targo> "Just hope they're not park rangers or something stupid," mutters Targo, heading forward to scout around the ridge.
* Forrest goes from the other direction as Wil and Targo, intending to sneakily flank their target.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9 stealth
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 stealth and gets 21."12 [1d20=12]
<Wilhelmina> Amused by Targo's suggestion, Wilhelmina follows him.
<Targo> roll 1d20+5 stealth myself
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+5 stealth myself and gets 22."12 [1d20=17]
<El-Cideon> There's a dwelling of some sort on the other side of the ridge. Something small and low; it's basically a one-room hovel with a door, with even the first floor half-buried in the ground. Possibly there's another floor belowground, as that's common enough for dwellings in this area. It does not look professionally made. Quite ramshackle, actually, wood walls and everything.(more)
<El-Cideon> Both wings of the Lagoon team are about sixty meters from the structure; there's no real cover between the treeline where the group hides and the building, the trees around it having been cut down. A man with a rifle, wearing actual furs and an orange scarf, stands out front. Another can be seen entering the building and descending stairs.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+3
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+3 and gets 19."12 [1d20=16]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil, I assume you don't want to be seen, so roll stealth?
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+4
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+4 and gets 12."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> OOC: >.>
<El-Cideon> The man glances around, obviously watching for intruders--and spots Wil rather quickly. "Oy, you're not one of us!" He raises his rifle and prepares to fire!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Init
<Targo> roll 1d20+5 I regret the necessity
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+5 I regret the necessity and gets 23."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 Guard init
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 Guard init and gets 18."12 [1d20=8]
<Wilhelmina> Roberta is very firmly trained back on him. "Drop that thing, you furry, or else!"
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 13."12 [1d20=2]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 and gets 27."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 Downstairs Mook init
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 Downstairs Mook init and gets 22."12 [1d20=12]
* Retrieving #dunes modes...
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Forrest > Targo > D. Mook > Guard > Wil'
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest, you're up.
<Forrest> OOC: any nearby cover I can use?
<El-Cideon> OOC: He's 20 squares away from you right now. You can stay in the treeline and shoot from there and keep cover, but there's nothing else between you and him.
<Forrest> Ducking down amidst the trees, Forrest trains his rifle on the man near Wilhelmina, squeezing the trigger once to fire a shot right into the side of his head. Hopefully.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+6 and gets 25."12 [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 and gets 21."12 [3d8=6, 6, 6]
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Forrest > Targo > D. Mook > Guard (C-1) > Wil'
<El-Cideon> It's a hit! The man staggers and almost falls against the wall of the building. OOC: Targo.
<Targo> Well, really, nobody is going to say they weren't provoked. Targo returns fire as well, aiming to finish off the fellow on the spot.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 and gets 14."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> With a *span*, Targo's blaster bolt slams into the side of the building, gouging a deep hole buit leaving his target unscathed.
<Targo> OOC: Hmm, isn't he unable to see me, btw? Should be an easier shot than normal
<El-Cideon> The second man rushes up from inside the dwelling, speaking quickly to his companion: "I called Magnus--no one's around but Jud, though. He's on his way." Raising his own rifle, he takes aim at Wil!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+7 and gets 26."12 [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> roll 3d8+4 damage
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d8+4 damage and gets 17."12 [3d8=5, 4, 4]
<El-Cideon> The second man carefully snipes Wil despite her place among the trees! Meanwhile, the wounded guard looks for Forrest and squeezes off a round.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 4."12 [1d20=2]
<El-Cideon> ...which flies off uselessly into the woods.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil.
<Wilhelmina> "You should've surrendered," she says, gritting her teeth, and shoots the one who wounded her, seeking to even the score.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 and gets 24."12 [1d20=14]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 19."12 [3d8=6, 2, 8]
<El-Cideon> It's a terrific shot, leaving the second man in the same condition as the wounded guard! OOC: Forrest
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Forrest > Targo > D. Mook (C-1) > Guard (C-1) > Wil'
<Forrest> OOC: how close are the two dudes?
<El-Cideon> OOC: Still 20 squares. They're right at the door of the house.
<Forrest> OOC: sorry, meant how close to each other. Can I hit both with autofire?
<El-Cideon> OOC: Yes.
<Forrest> As another person joins the fray, Forrest switches to autofire and braces before hosing the two down in a shower of hot plasma death!
<Forrest> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+2 and gets 10."12 [1d20=8]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3 halved
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 halved and gets 16."12 [3d8=7, 2, 4]
<El-Cideon> The barrage leaves the two men critically wounded, but still standing! OOC: Targo.
* Targo squeezes off another shot at the guard initially out the front, deciding it is too late to order them to surrender- better have the whole business done with quickly.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 and gets 25."12 [1d20=18]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Targo> roll 3d8+2
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+2 and gets 15."12 [3d8=2, 3, 8]
<El-Cideon> And this shot splatters the guard's brains across the building and his friend. Nasty! "You bastards! I'll execute each and every one of you!" he roars, wheeling in Targo's direction and firing!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 10."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> ...And he proves too dazed to fire accurately, missing again! OOC: Wil.
<Wilhelmina> "Doesn't think likely," Wilhelmina comments, mirroring Forrest's actions and switching to autofire mode.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 and gets 26."12 [1d20=16]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 15."12 [3d8=3, 7, 2]
<El-Cideon> Wil's sprays the front of the building with blazing bolts, peppering its surface with gaping holes and knocking the man off his feet (literally, actually! Eerily good shot, there).
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+7 offscreen happenings
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+7 offscreen happenings and gets 19."12 [1d20=12]
* Forrest stands up. "Sounds like there was only two of them but more are coming, we'd best get moving," he suggests to the other two.
<Wilhelmina> "Anyone cares who they were?"
<El-Cideon> There's a shout from the other side of the ridge, and the sound of someone scrambling through the undergrowth.
<Forrest> "Shit, sounds like our boy's in trouble!" Forrest promptly takes off at a run back over the ridge.
<El-Cideon> It's worth noting that the second man to fall had an orange sash, much like the guard, but this doesn't represent any group that Lagoon Company is aware of.
<Targo> "I do," replies Targo, grimacing and bolting after Forrest.
* Wilhelmina shrugs, moving after the two of them.
<El-Cideon> Back on the other side, the team finds Mr. Greenblum bolting straight towards them, apparently unharmed but scared beyond reason. He darts behind Forrest, shouting. "HOLY LEAPING EXCREMENT."
<Forrest> "What is it?" Forrest looks around wildly, his gun at the ready. "Were you attacked?"
<Targo> "The quality of expletives is low on the fringe, I see."
<El-Cideon> There's movement in the trees, maybe fifteen meters away, and someone can just barely be seen peering around a tree. Another rifleman--this time the orangeness is in bandanna form!
* Forrest levels his rifle at the man. "Hands where I can see 'em, pardner."
* Wilhelmina tries to find some cover in a tree of her own, dragging the client along with her.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 Jud's init
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 Jud's init and gets 18."12 [1d20=8]
* El-Cideon changes topic to 'Forrest > Targo > Jud > Wil'
<Targo> "Four on one. I don't like your odds," adds Targo, pleasantly.
<El-Cideon> "You'll be able to see 'em fine when I strangle you to death!" is the man's courageous response!
<Forrest> Keeping his weapon trained on the man, Forrest is ready to let loose the moment he does anything besides step into the open with his hands in the air.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Delaying action until his turn?
<Forrest> "Strangle, huh? That's a good one," Forrest snorts, blasting all around the man's tree with a withering hail of fire.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+2 and gets 15."12 [1d20=13]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3 halved if that misses
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 halved if that misses and gets 18."12 [3d8=4, 3, 8]
<El-Cideon> There's some muffled swearing from the other side of the tree, and it becomes apprent that one of the bolts singed the man. He's not coming out just yet, though.
* Forrest then drops low to the ground to avoid any return fire.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Targo.
<Targo> "Bravery. I hate brave people," snorts Targo, taking a second to aim at the man through his scope before clicking off a shot. OOC: Using AIM to negate cover, fun times
<Targo> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8 and gets 14."12 [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> It's a miss, and soon after the third gunman leps out into the open and comes charging towards Targo, firing wildly. "KAAAA-MIIII-KAAA-ZEEEE!"
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+7 and gets 25."12 [1d20=18]
<Targo> "Mother-FUCKER this is why!"
<El-Cideon> roll 3d8+4
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d8+4 and gets 21."12 [3d8=3, 8, 6]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Will, you're up.
<Wilhelmina> "Crazy bastard spawn of a xenorhino," Wilhelmina curses, pushing the client prone and returning fire, the carbine still in autofire mode.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+5
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+5 and gets 11."12 [1d20=6]
<Wilhelmina> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 3d8+3 and gets 14."12 [3d8=7, 1, 3]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Halved, yeah.
<El-Cideon> Suddenly, the client rises to his feet, some unseen reserve of bravado pushing him into action! "Punk! Ingrate! PHILISTINE!" He draws his rifle and fires!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+6 and gets 21."12 [1d20=15]
<El-Cideon> roll 3d6+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d6+2 and gets 12."12 [3d6=4, 1, 5]
<El-Cideon> It's a lucky shot! Sy's hunting rifle clips the man in the shoulder! OOC: Forrest.
<Forrest> "Bend over and kiss yer ass goodbye, son," Forrest grins at the suicidal orangeman, flipping his rifle back to single shot as he aims for the head and lets loose.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+6 and gets 20."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> *Splat* Brain confetti! The man goes down, minus a head, and the forest is silent once more/
<El-Cideon> .
<Forrest> roll 3d8+3
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+3 and gets 15."12 [3d8=7, 3, 2]
<Forrest> "Nice shootin' there, Mr Greenblum," Forrest then proceeds to slap their client on the back in a manly display of hearty comradeship.
* Targo exhales slowly, before wincing suddenly and pulling a syringe from his pack, promptly injecting himself with an adredaline cocktail.
<Targo> roll 1d20+7 taking a second wind, then administering self-first-aid
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+7 taking a second wind, then administering self-first-aid and gets 16."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> Sy breathes heavily, clutching his rifle and staring around the clearing. "So this is what you guys do for a living, huh?"
<Wilhelmina> "Many crazies out there," Wilhelmina agrees, checking their downed opponent.
<El-Cideon> He looks pretty similar to the ones back at the house. Unkempt, but in good shape. His weapon is a standard blaster rifle, this one of the cheerily-named Killtech brand.
<Forrest> "Wonder what these guys were all about, anyway," Forrest nudges the corpse over with his foot. "They mentioned another guy, Magnus or somethin'. Must be more around."
* Targo continues breathing heavily for a moment, before just shaking his head. "We prefer to do the shooting rather than the getting shot," he mutters. "Let's go find out who today's nutcases are," he adds, heading towards the house.
* Wilhelmina grabs the rifle and follows at a more sedate pace, keeping next to the client.
* Forrest whistles cheerily as he brings up the rear.
* Targo applies the medicine ti Wilhelmina a little more roughly than usual. Evidently, getting shot has ruined any chance of good humour from him for the next day or so.
<Targo> OOC: Take 10 etc, +12 HP, I think
<El-Cideon> The upper floor is no more than an entryway. Stairs descend into a much better furnished main level. Four cots are scattered about, though only three look used. There's no convenient documentation inside to tell exactly who these guys were, but there *is* a comsystem in the basement, and it's blaring. "Lawson? Come in! What's the situation!" (more)
<El-Cideon> There's a table in the center of the room with a pile of cash which looks two amount to just under a couple thousand credits. Also, there's enough food and ammo stored for WWIV.
<Targo> "You fuckups morons! That's what you get when you mess with Sanada!" yells Targo into a mike, before pulling his gun and shooting the coms.
<El-Cideon> Greenblum mostly stares around in a daze, for his part, eyeing all the ammo. "Who WERE these guys?"
* Forrest snorts as he unsuccessfully tries to stifle his laughter. "Maybe one had a wallet or ID?" he muses, going to check the two cadavers outside.
<El-Cideon> No one has any ID, though a couple hundred credits show uo in their pockets.
<El-Cideon> *up
<Wilhelmina> "Walking cash?"
<Targo> OOC: Is the cash portable? >_>
<El-Cideon> OOC: I have decided that it is. It's easier for you to loot it that way. <.<
<Targo> "Survivalists or something. I don't know," replies Targo, shrugging, grabbing the credits and heading outside. "Let's press on before backup arrives, eh?"
* Wilhelmina idly examines the ammo to see if it could be rigged to explode.
<El-Cideon> Blaster rounds don't carry gunpowder, and are sadly much less flammable than old-fashioned ammunition.
<Targo> OOC: Wouldn't it be a pile of... batteries? >_>
<El-Cideon> OOC: Basically!
<El-Cideon> ~

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> The team is able to continue to the north without incident after shooting down the rogues at the forest outpost. They see no further sign of human habitation in the ensuing hours of hiking. Their client seems strangely galvanized by his brush with vigilante justice, though he remains focused on his tracking display.(more)
<El-Cideon> It's late in the afternoon when Greenblum indicates that the team is closing in on the target. Cresting a forested rise about a five P.M., they can see a small impact crater in the valley below. The snow seems to have cushioned the impact of...whatever it was. Greenblum seems confident that this is what he came for.
<Forrest> Laying down over the rise to avoid presenting an obvious target, Forrest uses his targetting scope to zoom in on the vicinity of the crater and check out its surroundings for any sign of tampering first of all.
<Targo> "It's all yours, Greenblum. We'll check out the surrounding area and make sure there aren't any surprises, but once we're finished, you can go on down and pick up the prize."
<El-Cideon> Forrest sees nothing unusual through his scope. At the center of the impact crater, half-covered in snow, is a canister of some dull, silver metal. It has no markings and appears to be intact. There are no tracks around the canister; if anyone's been here recently, they covered any traces well.
<Targo> Targo opts to scout around the edge of the crater, checking to see if anyone is hiding in wait. But after that's done, there'll be nothing left but for their client to go down and get what he came for.
<Forrest> "Looks clear," Forrest reports, scrambling down over the side of the ridge before rising so as to avoid presenting his profile obviously to anyone who might be laying in wait.
<El-Cideon> Greenblum ambles forward at this pronouncement, looking nervous but gripping his rifle as if eager to dish out punishment to any ne'erdowells who try to get in his way.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Perception check, Targo.
<Targo> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8 and gets 24."12 [1d20=16]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+11 and gets 29."12 [1d20=18]
* Wilhelmina (~corwin@bzq-79-181-174-59.red.bezeqint.net) Quit (Ping timeout)
<El-Cideon> Greenblum works his way down the slope unopposed. A couple meters before reaching the canister, he removes a device from his backpack and fiddles with it for a moment, pacing around the crater.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Aaand, knowledge check this time, Targo.
<Targo> roll 1d20+10 wait, what kind?
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+10 wait, what kind? and gets 14."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Tech, and you missed it by one. >.>
<Targo> OOC: That happened the last time, too.
<Targo> OOC: Targo just can't keep up with the modern world.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hatbot hates you. *nod*
* Forrest escorts Greenblum down the rise in order to cover him should something go wrong, keeping a sharp eye out for trouble as he goes.
* Wilhelmina (~corwin@bzq-79-181-174-59.red.bezeqint.net) has joined #dunes
<El-Cideon> Nothing bothers the client as he goes about his business. Greenblum seems satisfied after a moment, picking up the canister and placing it in a section of his backpack that seems custom-made for this purpose before heading back to the team. "It's intact," he says. "So we're halfway done now."
<Forrest> "Just need to hike back... should prob'ly try and avoid the vicinity of those orange wearing desperados we ran into on the way up, I reckon," Forrest muses, paying more attention to their surroundings than the client as he looks around warily.
<Targo> "Sounds good to me. We'll take a slightly longer route around?"
<Wilhelmina> All that stands between them and more cash seems to be a crazed loner hiding in the woods. Not really a problem. But walking more wouldn't kill her, either.
<El-Cideon> Evening falls as the group starts southwards. Soon enough, what light there is is blocked out by the trees, and with the dying of the light comes the insidious chill of Wellington night. The group can continue if they want, but pressing on further risks exhaustion, given how long they've been out. The client's making noises about setting up camp, for his part.
* Forrest has little objection to this plan, and goes about finding a suitable campsite, preferably in a dip in the terrain that would conceal them from easy view.
<El-Cideon> A clearing ringed by lush fir trees seems to fit the bill. You'd have to be right on the team to see them. Greenblum doesn't waste any time setting up the tent he brought along. It's just big enough for four and, above all, well-insulated.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Detail anything you want to do before sleeping?
<Targo> Targo follows suit. "Wil, you take first watch. Forrest will take second, and I'll take third," he instructs. "Think you can rig up some tripwires?"
<Wilhelmina> "Just for this?"
* Forrest sets up the fusion lantern to provide light and heat, though partially buried and with an improvised cover set up over the top to stop the light from spreading too far. "I've got the mesh tape if'n you've got the grenades," he tells Targo.
<Targo> "I've got two. We should be fine," replies Targo, before tilting his head back at Wil. "When there are heavily armed survivalist nutbags running around the woods, well, it's not worth getting up to blow them away if I don't have to."
<Wilhelmina> "Those guys are likely to actually spot the traps," she says with a shrug.
<Forrest> Using his keen survival skills, Forrest picks out the two easiest approaches to their campsite and rigs up trip lines attached to grenade pins with mesh tape, making sure to conceal the traps thoroughly in the undergrowth.
<Targo> "You're telling me you think they're sensible types?"
<Wilhelmina> "We'll see by the morning."
<Forrest> "If it works we've saved ourselves a fight, if it doesn't we've only lost some tape. No big, I reckon," Forrest opines as he prepares to bed down for the night.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Lemme know when you're done chatting. I've got nothing more before then.
<Targo> OOC: We're done, I think.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Alright, I'll move things along.
<El-Cideon> The group settles in to sleep. Wil's watch passes without incident and she rouses Forrest for his turn sometime before midnight. After an uneventful hour or so--
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+11 and gets 20."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 4d6+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 4d6+2 and gets 17."12 [4d6=4, 3, 5, 3]
<El-Cideon> --an explosion shatters the chill silence of the night. There's the yelp of a wounded animal from the edge of the clearing.
<Forrest> "Awww, fuck," Forrest curses, getting up and heading towards the explosion. Might as well put the critter out of its misery.
<Targo> It's enough to get Targo out of bed, at least for as long as it takes to realise that it was just an animal and not some scarf-wearing goon.
<El-Cideon> It's a wolf. Or, rather, the local equivalent of such. A variety of differences make them look ungainly to human eyes: limbs that seem to bend all the wrong ways, a strangely elongated head. But all the hallmarks of a predator are there--most notably the claws.(more)
<El-Cideon> Its fur is white, except where it's stained with blood. It's limping away from the clearing when Forrest finds it.
* Forrest raises his rifle to aim at the beast's head and squeezes the trigger in order to mercy kill it.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+6 and gets 26."12 [1d20=20]
<Forrest> roll 6d8+6
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 6d8+6 and gets 34."12 [6d8=6, 4, 5, 2, 6, 5]
<El-Cideon> Forrest aims true, putting the beast down with one well-placed shot.
<Forrest> Sighing, Forrest trudges back to the campsite. Okay, so that was a wasted grenade after all. And if anyone else is out there, it did a good job of advertising their presence, so it behooves him to stay more alert for the remainder of his shift.
<El-Cideon> Nonetheless, the rest of the night passes without interruption. If there are any humans in the vicinity, they're not interested in investigating the disturbance, and the blast seems to have scared off whatever other wildlife was in the area. Targo replaces Forrest on watch sometime in the pre-dawn gloom. By the time the sun rises, the group is rested and ready for another day's hike through the hills.
<Targo> Then a-hiking they shall go! Targo doesn't exactly rush anyone, but nor does he wait around a moment longer than necessary.
* Forrest retrieves the remaining grenade from its trap and returns it to Targo before collecting his fusion lantern and making ready to head off once their client is.
<El-Cideon> Greenblum is more than ready to get back to civilization!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Full night's rest, so anyone injured regens 5HP.
* Wilhelmina has no objections, either.
<El-Cideon> Veering around the site of yesterday's battle makes the trip south take at least an hour longer than the previous day's journey. It's actually not until Lagoon Company is within sight of their truck that they encounter any other human beings. There's a smaller aircar pulled up beside it--black and white, seemingly a universal sign of law enforcement. The markings make it out to be a local unit.
* Forrest brings a halt to their march as soon as the car is spotted, hunkering down and looking to see if its occupied or the police are nearby.
<El-Cideon> Perhaps unsurprisingly, both the officers visible are sitting in the car, shielded from the chilly morning breeze.
<Forrest> "Welp, this could be a problem," Forrest glances at their client. "You said that thing you recovered is illegal?"
<El-Cideon> "Quite so," he sighs. "...You think we can take them?" he asks excitedly, clutching his rifle.
<Wilhelmina> "They're just cops," Wilhelmina responds. "But they only get paid as all cops do, too."
<Targo> "The first thing you learn in this business is *you do not fuck with cops*. That's the best way to make the local PD start caring, which is the last thing you want."
<El-Cideon> OOC: roll persuasion, Targo.
<Targo> OOC: I have to persuade him of this simple truth? :(
<El-Cideon> OOC: He's a little gung-ho after yesterday.
<Targo> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+14 and gets 27."12 [1d20=13]
<El-Cideon> Greenblum nods after a moment, sitting back against a tree and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay. I guess I'm getting carried away."
<Targo> "Yeah. Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. Forrest, take the.. thing... and hike uproad until you're out of the cops sight. We'll swing by and pick you up once we're out of view. They're obviously waiting for us, so I'm gonna have to speak to them."
<Wilhelmina> "Have fun."
<Forrest> "Got it," Forrest holds out his hands expectantly towards Greenblum.
<El-Cideon> Greenblum looks uncomfortable, but hands the cnaister over after a moment.
<Forrest> Sticking it in his own pack, Forrest backs away a bit from the road to get some more cover before he begins to slowly work his way around where the cars are parked, intending to loop his way closer to the road once well out of sight.
<Targo> "Oh, before you go," adds Targo, catching Forrest by the shoulder.
<Targo> "You know if that xeno wolf has a particular name?"
<Forrest> "Pseudowolf," Forrest replies. "First discovered by the late great Dr Ernest Pseudo," he adds with a grin.
<Targo> "His family sounds both brilliant, but poor. Alright, we'll see you in a few."
<El-Cideon> OOC: Going to approach the cops now, Targo?
<Targo> OOC: Yep.
<Targo> After that, Targo makes sure to dust himself off before boldly striding out to meet the cops, with nothing to hide in the world.
<El-Cideon> The cops don't get out of the car this whole time, so presumably they don't have one of the nifty sensor dishes Lagoon Company has found so useful in the past. No one gets out of the squad car until Targo is in plain sight, at which point someone steps out of the passenger-side door.(more)
<El-Cideon> Middling build, fair hair, and bundled against the cold, the officer looks like there are other places he'd rather be. "Good morning," he says, with the tone of a public servant dispensing with the pleasantries.
<Targo> "Morning," replies Targo, appearing a little surprised. "What can I do for you, officer?"
<El-Cideon> "Could you state your business in the hills, son?" he asks, with the penetrating air of cops everywhere that seems both inquiry and accusation.
<Targo> "Hunting trip," replies Targo, shrugging. "Not too much luck this time around, though. Used to do work 'round Melville, but ever since a man got taken down by this xeno-rhino critter, I've been a bit edgy."
<El-Cideon> OOC: Deception check.
<Targo> roll 1d20+14+1d6 I'll spend a force point here
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+14+1d6 I'll spend a force point here and gets 33."12 [1d20=17][1d6=2]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+7 and gets 11."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> The cop seems to accept this. "Alright," he says after a moment's consideration. "Heard someone drove a truck up thisaways yesterday, never came back. With all the bandit activity lately, we had to ask." Again there's the customary inflection inplying that, while the officer's not *suggesting* you're a bandit, he could say so if he wanted and be totally justified in doing so. "Any luck?"
<Targo> "Eh, so so. I got one the wolves, but the pelt was no good," replies Targo, shrugging. "Was even colder up this way than I thought it'd be. Think I caught some bug out there. Probably not be coming back."
<El-Cideon> "Good plan," he says. "Stick around Melville. The accomodations are better." He circles back around to the passenger side of the car. "Didn't see anything strange out there, did you?"
<Targo> "Not this time, but I've seen a few weird critters out there before. You hunt, officer? Then y'might know what I'm talking about."
<El-Cideon> "Most everyone out here days," he says, with just the suggestion of a smile.
<El-Cideon> *does
<Targo> "Might see you around, then," replies Targo, opening the passanger door of the truck and fishing out a pack of cigarettes from the glovebox.
<El-Cideon> "Maybe," he says. "But if it's all the same, I'd rather be back at the station. It's warmer there. You'd be doing both of us a favor if you went hunting somewhere safer. Better luck next time." He gets back into the car, Targo's explanation apparently having been sufficiently satisfactory to curb his curiosity.
<Targo> Targo gives the officers a lazy wave as he lights up, closing his door and heading around to the other side of the truck at a laconical pace.
<El-Cideon> The squad car whirs away to the south, and soon things are quiet once again.
* Wilhelmina uses this chance to rejoin Targo. "Let's pick up Forrest and go back, then?"
<Targo> "I have no objection," replies Targo, getting in the passenger seat. "Come on, Greenblum! Let's go someplace warm and have a drink."
<El-Cideon> The client is happy to oblige, though he looks like he'll be even happier when he retrieves the canister from Forrest.
* Wilhelmina gets behind the wheel, more than ready to leave the middle of nowhere and get back to the office.
<El-Cideon> Forrest retrieved, Lagoon Company drives back to Pendleton. Greenblum is considerably relieved to have his property back in his possession and relaxes noticeably once the group is back within the city limits. He parts ways after paying the agreed upon fee of 7,500 credits at the office, and Lagoon Company is alone once again with another successful job to their name.
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> There's another dearth of jobs after Lagoon Company parts ways with Mr. Greenblum. It's nearing the end of the month and the rent is due, but Targo and company aren't likely to worry given they've earned well over the amount needed with just their first few jobs. A lazy Saturday night after their most recent job finds the team killing an evening at the bar down the street. (more)
<El-Cideon> Passing around rumors seems to be the activity of choice among the usual clientele on this particular evening. The first article is interest is the death of a politician on the east side of the city: Cyril Fontanelle, runner-up in the last mayoral election. It's clearly a murder case--Fontanelle was shot in the face, his bodyguards killed with nary a fight.(more)
<El-Cideon> The second issue--and one of particular interest to Lagoon Company's profession--is the Sanada Group being hired by a private business to bust a drug ring that turned out to be composed in large part of corrupt cops. Murray listens to all of this placidly at the bar, ritually polishing a glass and pouring drinks when necessary.
<Targo> "Oh, very nice. The press must be having a field day with that. Has the police comissioner made a statement?"
* Forrest invites either Wil or Targo to play pool with him, idly wondering, "Why would a private business care about a drug ring, anyway?"
* Wilhelmina can go for pool, as it happens. "Competition?"
<El-Cideon> "Many and varied are the social connections in Pendleton," Murray says sagely, brushing back his lank blond hair. "Probably someone involved pissed off the wrong person." He shrugs. Then, to Targo: "Sure, the usual platitudes, radiating relief that he wasn't personally involved the whole time."
<Forrest> "Sure, lets make it interesting," Forrest grins at Wilhelmina as he sets up the balls. "Twenty credits?"
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "Whatever."
<Targo> Targo's fine with watching the game for now, glancing back at Murray. "Y'don't say. But this is good for Sanada. It's even good for us."
<El-Cideon> Murray grins. "Fewer cops on the street make your job easier?" He doesn't sound like he disapproves. It's more like anything that helps a repeat customer is fine by him.
<Targo> "Hmph! We're legitimate businesspeople," replies Targo, appearing to take offense for a moment before snorting. "No. After a debacle like that, people put less trust in cops. Which means they look for alternate sources of protection." He shrugs. "With the mayor out early, I take it election season is coming up?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: It was the *loser* in the last election who got killed, Targo.
<Targo> OOC: Ah, really
<Targo> OOC: I see!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Going to repose?
<Targo> OOC: Yes
<Targo> *"Why'd someone take out the runner-up is more interesting, anyway. Since he lost, you wouldn't think it's politically motivated."
<Forrest> "Maybe he knew too much?" Forrest opines, giving Wilhelmina the chance to break.
<El-Cideon> Another shrug. "Well, he was also rich. Coulda been a business thing. One city's only got room for so many bigwigs."
* Wilhelmina takes her cue, doing just that after a brief inspection of the table. "Or maybe he wanted a rematch," she comments.
<Targo> "Pretty risky, especially when slander can do just as good. It's not good to win an election by killing the competition. Too many people care."
* Wilhelmina can't stop her snort. "Here?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, we've got our share of fringe types here. Things don't always work the way you might expect, coming from a settled world. 'scuse me for a sec." He pauses to pour a drink for someone down the bar. "So how's business this week?"
<Targo> "Don't be so blaise!" admonishes Targo. "There's always a crowd when it comes to the democratic process. You just won't see them on this side of the city. And.. business? We've been playing darts for hours on end."
<Wilhelmina> "At twenty per game, it's slow," Wilhelmina agrees.
<El-Cideon> Murray frowns. "That's no good," he says, almost visibly tallying up your bar tab in his head. After a moment, he seems to reach a decision. "...Don't know if she'll have any work for you, but I've got an acquaintence you may find useful. She's good for getting intel normal folk don't have access to. Interested?"
<Targo> "I always like to make new friends."
<Forrest> "Could do with somethin' to tide us over until those commercials get goin'," Forrest agrees.
<El-Cideon> Murray nods, giving you a name--Delilah Sparno--and an address. It's an apartment in a low-rent district on the south side of the city. Hardly a prestigious location, but Murray seems insistent that she'll be useful. Only: "Stop by at night. She don't like being woken up. And she'll likely want something in returning. Not necessarily money, just something...interesting."
<El-Cideon> *return
<Targo> "I'll have a chat with her, but I've never been into paying people to work for 'em," muses Targo, shrugging. "What kinda 'interesting' do you mean, here?"
<El-Cideon> "She's kind of a snoop. For fun. Likes digging up secrets. I figure, you meet some strange sorts in your line of work, you've probably heard something she'd find entertaining."
<Targo> "Oh, sure! You still got those tapes, Wil?"
<Wilhelmina> "Of course."
<Forrest> "They were a real eye opener," Forrest nods, looking slightly scared.
<El-Cideon> Murray raises an eyebrow, but isn't about to ask. (OOC: Want to warp to a meeting?)
<Targo> OOC: Sure
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> Delilah's neighborhood proves less than inspiring, but at least it's a far cry from the ruined slums the Dogs inhabited. A lot of the residents here are new arrivals still trying to figure out where they fit in the grimy jigsaw puzzle that is Pendleton. There's not much activity when the group arrives at Delilah's building. (more)
<El-Cideon> Her apartment's a second-floor loft. Going up the stairwell, a small camera can be seen, whirring quietly as it tracks the Company's movements. There's a buzzer on the wall, should they wish to request entry.
<Targo> Targo hits the buzzer, though he knows that in some cultures, blowing away the door is an acceptable greeting.
* Wilhelmina is certainly more than ready to follow through on that alternate greeting option.
<El-Cideon> "Yello?" a feminine voice says after a moment of the camera focusing in on Targo. "I dunno you goons. Identify yourselves."
<Forrest> Hands stuffed in his pockets, Forrest briefly regards the camera but is content to let their face-man do the talking.
<Targo> "We're the Lagoon Company~, Murray sent us. Said you knew a thing or two about what goes on out there, so I thought a friendly greeting was in order."
<El-Cideon> A pause. "Right, he mentioned you guys. Murray says you're okay, I'll take a chance." The intercom snaps off, and there's an audible *click* as the door unlocks.
<Targo> Assuming it doesn't momentarily open for them, Targo will open it himself and head inside.
<El-Cideon> Targo is left to open the door himself. You can't help but notice that the door is thicker than you'd expect for your average urban pad. Someone either wants security or expects to need it. The interior of the apartment is sparsely furnished, yet cluttered nonetheless--various half-finished mechanical devices and computers are strewn about the floor of the main room. The windows are taped over. (more)
<El-Cideon> A pair of guns are mounted in the ceiling in the corners adjacent to the front door. They swivel to follow the group but take no action. The main piece of furniture is a computer desk by the far wall. Several monitors are plastered on the wall around it and occupying the chair in back of it is a woman. (more)
<El-Cideon> She's short, thin, wearing just a tank top and shorts (the heating in this apartment is probably more powerful than was standard issue for this development). She has black hair bound into twin pigtails; the rest of her scalp is hairless. Not shaved, but totally depilated. The look is strikingly unattractive, but it can only be intentional. Clear blue eyes flit up to look you over. "Close the door, you're letting in Wellington."
<El-Cideon> Wellington."
* Wilhelmina admires the computers with more than a casual interest. And the security; it would surely instill a healthy desire in people to avoid her company if she installed mounted ceiling guns that tracked anyone approaching her room.
* Forrest likewise eyes the autoguns with some measure of respect, closing the door as the last one inside. "Nice ta meetcha, ma'am," he smiles in a friendly manner as is his wont.
<Targo> "It's not as bad as vacuum," replies Targo, glancing slightly nervously at the guns, himself. "I mean, if you're being charitable."
* Wilhelmina idly estimates her chances of shooting their host before she could arm the guns and take her out, in turn, while letting Targo negotiate for job-related information.
<El-Cideon> Delilah looks the three of you over. "Granted," she says to Targo. Wil's burns catch her interest for a moment. "Wicked scar, babe. How'd you get it?" She has a strange accent that tends to leave off soft consonants (OOC Knowledge: Galactic Lore check, Targo).
<Wilhelmina> "Flamethrower accident. Point blank range."
<El-Cideon> Delilah whistles. "Nice. So, you guys're in the security business? Just getting settled in?"
<Targo> OOC: I'll TAKE 10 FOR 20
<Targo> OOC: I wanna know something for once :(
<Targo> "Yeah. I gotta say, I didn't except to see a Misplite here," observes Targo. "I heard one on Coleille say this place just sucks the energy out of you, too. Dare I ask what misfortune took you to Wellington?"
<El-Cideon> She seems pleased that Targo could place her accent. "I kind of wore out my welcome on Coleille. It, uh, usually happens after a while. Goes with the business. You want the details, though, they'll have to paid for. Like everything else. Murray told you what I do? The things people don't want anyone else to know, I make it my business to find out."(more)
<El-Cideon> "This doesn't make me the most popular person around if you happen to BE said people, hence why I don't let just anyone in here."
<Targo> "Oho~, well, I'm interested in your going rates, then. Not here on business, so to speak- though we're looking for it- but I can think of one or two things I'd like to know."
<El-Cideon> "Rates depend on what you need to know. And I'll be honest: you can pay me in cash if you want, but I'd prefer something more esoteric. Secrets are my business. If you've got a few you can spare, then we can trade."
* El-Cideon sets mode: +v Wilhelmina
* Wilhelmina holds up a data crystal. "That works?"
<Targo> "We've got a few. Some domestic, some more interesting. First thing's first- we're looking for work, in the name of building capital. I'll let you in on a secret- we at the Lagoon Company are willing to approach security from every angle. I'm hoping you sell this secret at a low rate to the right people."
<El-Cideon> Delilah laughs. "Lookin' to use me for advertising? Well, I'll mention you to those as I trust when they're in need of such services if it proves worth my while. So, first--" she turns to Wil, "--what's the dirt?"
<Targo> "We get a referral and you'll get a cut, don't worry."
<El-Cideon> She nods to Targo. "Fair enough."
<Forrest> "Dirt is right," Forrest chuckles, eyeing the data crystal.
<Wilhelmina> "It's very dirty," Wilhelmina affirms, tossing the storage unit over to Delilah.
<El-Cideon> "What's on it?" she asks, sounding like she wants to be sure before she puts anything in her computer.
<Targo> "Stella Artois' amateur moviemaking. This'd be the domestic angle. Can't say I watched it myself, but you just don't expect this of upper-middle class spinsters."
<Wilhelmina> "They're all the same," Wilhelmina states with certainty.
<Targo> "I didn't know you frequented those circles."
<Wilhelmina> "I don't have to."
<Targo> "Plenty of them are perfectly nice, boring people."
<Wilhelmina> "Who hide a deep, dirty secret."
<El-Cideon> "Stella? The mayor's aide? What, she get another boy toy? I could hear that from anyone if I care--" Then she actually slots it into a computer and checks the contents. After a moment, she starts laughing. She hits a button as if flipping through chapters. "One, two, three..." She cranes her head, as if trying to figure something out. "I didn't think *that* was possible." To Targo: "Okay, whaddya wanna know?"
<Targo> "I wanted to know about the Sanada Group," replies Targo. "It's good to keep up with the competition. We know all about their legitimate work, but I'm curious about what goes unsaid." He shrugs. "Take their most recent escapade."
<El-Cideon> She rolls her eyes. "Ah, good old Moonlight Sanada. I hacked their site a couple years back, made it out like they were caterers. That was a fun week." She swivels her chair back and forth, absentmindedly. "Few years ago the cops busted one of the local traffickers. This enterprising young lad who just *happened* to be the lead officer's brother picked up a lot of the slack to replace th old kingpin."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Got in the habit of using cops to ferry the stuff around, with his brother's help of course. If I had to make a guess, I'd say this is the old head honcho getting revenge, but Sanada's money went through a mess of dummy corps and I haven't sorted it all out yet." she shrugs. "This shit's all legal where I come from anyway."
<Targo> "They didn't arrest the old don when they busted it in the first place?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, they did. If you're big enough, though, you don't lose all your connections when you're in jail. He probably had some money squirreled away that no one found. Again, this is my theory. I'll let you know if it works out."
<Targo> "Other thing about these guys is that I've heard they don't take kindly to rival operators. You know if they've taken down any other groups before... and if they let any get away?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, Wellington is notoriously lenient when it comes to people proactively defending their own livelihood. 'Sanada-sama' is smart enough to not pull anything within the city, though. Shooting trespassers is one thing, but starting a turf war on city property? Uh-uh. There *have* been a couple groups like your own that 'vanished on assignment' in areas Sanada just happened to be working."(more)
<El-Cideon> "But I myself can't prove anything, if that's what you're asking. Well, not yet, at least."
<Forrest> "Well, folks vanishin' like that is reason enough to be worried, I reckon," Forrest reflects, rubbing his stubble-covered chin. "We oughta be careful."
<Targo> "Mmm. I believe in being proactive, though. You said 'not yet'- been working on this?"
<El-Cideon> "It is," Delilah agrees. "I might fuck around with their public site, but I'm not touching their money. I don't need that kind of heat." To Targo: "Eh, I keep my ears open, just in case. The woman's got a stick up her ass three feet long, do her good to take a tumble."
<Targo> "Keep us posted on her, if you'd be so kind. If we're gonna be working anywhere near her, it's the kind of thing we need to know."
<El-Cideon> "Sure thing. I'll pass the word along whenever they head out of the city on assignment, just in case."
<Forrest> "Much obliged fer your consideration, ma'am," Forrest briefly tips his hat to Delilah.
<El-Cideon> She shrugs. "Well, you know, you find someone who can dig up gems like this--" she taps the data card, "--you wanna make sure they stick around."
<Targo> "'s the stuff. Call us if one of those people who doesn't like you gives you trouble. As much as 'private security' seems at odds with 'information fence', well, there's no telling how far they go together."
<El-Cideon> "Yeah," she agrees. "I been around a lot of systems. If there's anything I've learned--apart from the right time to pull up stakes--it's the value of having a few trusted allies around."
<Targo> Targo gives Delilah a fairly lenghtly and contemplative look, and then shrugs. "I'm still fresh at this independant operator business, but I can see a few differences already. Until next time, then."