Mission 8: I'd prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around.

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> Lagoon Company takes a few days to lay low after taking down Magnus and the Orangemen. Hey, with that twenty-k bounty, they can afford to keep a low profile while the furor over the abruptly-cancelled manhunt dies down (word is that the assembled mercs and ne'erdowells were uniformly upset once the truth came out). (more)
<El-Cideon> Others, however, are not so idle as the week plods along: the brazen killing of city notables continues with the murder of Lizaveta Graczyk, president of a local energy corp. She was killed in her bedroom overnight; apparently the killer entered by blasting a hole in the third-story wall. (more)
<El-Cideon> In other news, the Sanada Group's corporate office on the east side of the city was struck by an explosion early this morning. There's no word on who caused the incident, but it's known that at least three Sanada operatives were killed in the blast. Megumi-sama has sworn "dire retribution" for the party responsible. This is the talk of the town as the Lagoon Company members lounge about their office one Friday morning.
<Forrest> "So I was thinkin'," Forrest begins as he digests all these important facts, his expression grave. "Y'think we should send Delilah a fruit basket or some flowers or something? Y'know, to thank her for that tip on the bounty."
<Wilhelmina> "Just mail her, she'd like it more."
<El-Cideon> Coincidentally (?), the phone rings right about this time. It's Delilah.
* Targo drops the paper back on the table and picks up the phone. "Morning, Deliah. I was expecting you to call," he states, gravely.
<El-Cideon> "Yeah, I figure you guys owe me some kind of treat for that tip," she says, "but that's not what I'm calling about. Someone's been asking about you guys on the network."
<Targo> "We don't have any dark secrets, I think," replies Targo, though he shoots Wil a bleak look. "I'm guessing they're not after our contact details."
* Wilhelmina shrugs. "Nothing recent."
<El-Cideon> "They're being pretty circumspect, whoever they are. Just putting out feelers to see what they can find. Couldn't tell you who they are--this came to me second or third-hand, someone from down south consulting the local experts on Pendleton's seamier side. I decided to plead ignorance. Conflict of interest, you know? Anyway, whoever this is, they're working through channels I normally prefer to avoid--I'm thinking government, and not local."
<El-Cideon> and not local."
<Targo> "I'm guessing they'll make themselves known soon enough, one way or the other. We don't have too much to hide, so as long as you're not giving out the password to our accounts, I don't mind so much what you tell them."
<El-Cideon> Delilah makes the verbal equivalent of a shrug. "Alright. And I wouldn't do that anyway. Not that I know anything about your accounts." There's a polite cough. "Anyway, all I had right now. The next time you guys dig up anything juicy, let me know."
<Targo> "Can do. Oh, but for the sake of argument, if I asked you to look into this more deeply..."
<El-Cideon> "You want more on your tab? Sure, I can try and trace it back. But I can't really help you if it goes past Wellington. You never know who's listening when you transmit something through a gate."
<Targo> "If it goes past Wellington, I'll take it from there. With all the trouble going on lately, it's a bit of a worry to be investigated for any reason." Targo's voice lowers, losing it's typical joviality. "Like it or not, security corps like us are the only things that keep the real threats out of the city. I don't like it when they get bombed without a clear cause-"
<Targo> "-at a time like this, even if they are the competition."
<El-Cideon> "Huh. Well, I'm sure Sanada did something to piss someone off. Like breathe, maybe. Anyway, I'll look into things. But FYI, I'm hiding behind you guys if someone sends black ops goons after me."
<Targo> "I'll put it on your tab. Later." Targo hangs up, and glances back at the others. "We're popular, it seems."
<Wilhelmina> "In a good way?"
<Forrest> "Prob'ly not, if'n he's talking about companies getting bombed," Forrest opines.
<El-Cideon> They are popular. The phone rings again not long after Targo hangs up. It's another familiar number, but not one the team has seen for a few weeks: Erik Bergstrom.
<Wilhelmina> "It's just competition," Wilhelmina says with a shrug.
<Targo> "Lagoon Company. Client or casual?"
<El-Cideon> "Client," he says. There's the low hum of an aircar engine running in the background on the other end of the line. "I'm on my way now. I thought I'd give you a few minutes' warning this time."
<Targo> "Appreciated. Forrest, put on your tie."
* Forrest grumbles. "Why?"
<El-Cideon> "I'll give you more details when I arrive, but in sum: the series of high-class murders you've been hearing about? I've decided it's time the party responsible was stopped. Be seeing you soon." Then he hangs up.
<Targo> "To look respectable! Our work is going to take us into the white-collar sector," replies Targo, hanging the phone up himself.
<Forrest> "Aww. I hate those guys," Forrest mutters irritably, nonetheless shambling off. A moment later he returns with a plain black tie around his neck. It doesn't fit too well with his olive shirt and disrupted pattern trousers, though.
* Wilhelmina has a rifle on hand which makes her respectable enough.
* Targo looks very sad at Forrest's admission.
<Forrest> "You're different, Targo. You do real work for a living!" Forrest consoles his buddy upon returning.
* Targo mutters something about duress.
<El-Cideon> After another ten minutes or so, Bergstrom's car pulls up out front, his driver walking around to the other side to let him out. The businessman's dressed simply but expensively, as before.
<Targo> "Morning. Let's get straight to it, eh?" greets Targo once the man makes his way into the lobby.
<El-Cideon> "Indeed," he says, sitting down. "I'll be perfectly blunt," he starts, looking over the group as a whole, "I need you to kill a man."
* Wilhelmina can't help but blink. Just one?
<Targo> "Is he a bad man?"
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom chuckles darkly. "He could certainly use a touch of discretion, which is enough to qualify as such in my eyes. His name, or at least the one he uses here, is Slastyaranov. He arrived in Pendleton several weeks ago and took up jobs settling other people's grudges for wages sufficiently cheap that I believe the joy of the kill itself is his primary concern."(more)
<El-Cideon> "Needless to say, I cannot allow such a disruptive influence to persist in my city. I'd like him stopped, terminally."
<Targo> "How do you know he's responsible?"
<El-Cideon> "I arranged to meet him, ostensibly as the overture to procuring his services. While stopping short of claiming responsibility for specific slayings within Pendleton, he was quick to advertise his expertise in the area of killing people. The recent string of murders began shortly after his earliest sighting within the city limits. I am quite confident that he's responsible. At best, he's a loose cannon." (more)
<El-Cideon> "If you have any doubts, you are free to try and interrogate him first. Personally, I consider shooting first your best option."
<Forrest> "It normally is," Forrest agrees, not really seeing it as their place to pass judgement in cases like this.
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom nods. "If you are willing, I can arrange another 'meeting' at a suitably isolated location owned by myself which you may inspect in advance. When Slastyaranov arrives, you should have ample opportunity to ambush him."
<Targo> "Alright. I won't question your reasons," replies Targo, dubiously. "Do you know if he was involved in that Orange business?"
<El-Cideon> "I couldn't say. I haven't looked into the matter much myself. The killings of Pendleton notables is much more of a concern to me, for obvious reasons."
<Targo> "I can see why. But wouldn't it be more of a concern to find out who is paying for the murders in the first place?"
<El-Cideon> "As I said, anyone with a meager amount of cash. He offers his services cheap, which is quite a temptation for someone who's fallen off the cart and looking to get back at their more successful competitors."
<Targo> "
<Targo> "Very well. We'll inspect your location later this afternoon, then? If you can, set the meeting for the following evening."
<El-Cideon> He nods. "Of course." He gives you the address of a warehouse in the outskirts of the city which is presently used to house various sorts of out-of-service machinery as precursor to heading to a scrapyard somewhere. "Don't worry overly much about collateral damage," Bergstrom says, "but I'd appreciate it if you didn't take that as free license to burn the building down."
<Targo> "Outside the city, nobody hangs around, plenty of hiding places... kind of obvious," remarks Targo, dryly. "What about your current arrangements?"
<El-Cideon> "Hm? I'm not precisely sure what you mean, Mr. Silver."
<Targo> OOC: Ah, wait. Did he already meet the guy, or did he have an existing meeting arranged?
<Targo> OOC: Apart from this one, I mean
<El-Cideon> OOC: Met him once, proposing to meet him again and have you guys show up instead, was the idea.
<Targo> OOC: Right
<Targo> OOC: Never mind what I said!
<Targo> "Right. Where did you speak to him the first time you met?"
<El-Cideon> "A similar building elsewhere," he shrugs. "I have no shortage of them."
<Targo> "You might as well make it the same one. Give us the address and we'll come down. The price for this sort of hit is pretty steep, however. The man seems quite skilled."
<El-Cideon> A nod. "Of course. He IS quite dangerous, of that I am sure. Shall we start the bidding at fifteen thousand? Whatever we agree on, know that I intend to pay the entirety up front. I want to ensure you're prepared for this one."
<Targo> "Twenty-five, and I'm less inclined to bargain. You recall our previous mission?" queries Targo, raising an eyebrow. "This man, alone, could have done the job without aid. He's worth far more than a gang of simpletons."
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom considers this for a moment. OOC: Feel free to make a Persuasion roll, Targo.
<Targo> roll 1d20+16
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+16 and gets 28." [1d20=12]
<El-Cideon> Eventually, he nods. "Very well, twenty-five it is. I'll have the funds transferred immediately. Survey the site and call me thereafter. I'll set up the meeting with Slastyaranov then."
<Targo> "Then it's a deal."
<El-Cideon> Bergstrom nods and exits, leaving the team free to go inspect the site.
<Targo> "Is it worth saying I don't like it? No? I was tempted to drop the job," admits Targo, once Bergstrom is gone.
* Wilhelmina doesn't care either way and says as much.
<Forrest> "This guy got you that worried?" Forrest asks, surprised.
<Targo> "Not our target. I'm more worried about Bergstrom," replies Targo, shaking his head. "It may seem expedient. But he's a man willing to break confidence with someone he's made overtures to hire. What's to say he won't do the same to us? I don't like it when clients show they're willing to break trust."
<Forrest> "Huh. Never thought of it like that," Forrest nods, subdued. "Yeah, we oughta be careful with him in future."
<Targo> "Anyway, we'll go check the place out. I'm taking a precaution along with us, however," elaborates Targo. "I can't see a reason this man would have it in for us, but I'm sure our counterpart can't, either. Let's go."
<Wilhelmina> "Is our precaution explosives?"
<Targo> "No. Bry has disappointment me for the last time," replies Targo. "I must now locate a new dealer."
<Targo> *Disappointed
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> The address Bergstrom gives you is an unremarkable slab of architecture on the south side of Pendleton. The utilitarian building is indeed a warehouse, three floors high but totally open on the inside. The only windows are a ring of dust-crusted panes circling the roof.(more)
<El-Cideon> Inside the building, the south wall is lined with various pieces of derelict machinery. The rest of the floow is empty and tidy at this time, save for a flatbed hauler sitting near the northern door. A crane dangles from the roof, apparently there to move around the debris, and the control panel for it is in a little enclosure midway along the western wall. (more)
<El-Cideon> Also up near the roof, a catwalk circles the interior of the building, providing access to light fixtures as well as the crane's track should it need repairing.
<Forrest> First things first, Forrest cracks open the sensor dish and uses it to detect any active electronic or comm signals around or inside the building.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+19 perception
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+19 perception and gets 34." [1d20=15]
* Targo wanders over to the crane's controls to test if they actually work or not.
<El-Cideon> The crane can indeed be used, if one so desires.
<Forrest> "Seems clean on the scanner," Forrest reports, packing up the dish and taking a look around for any decent hiding/sniping spots.
* Targo searches for a suitable place to set up a portable camera, since it would be nice to know if anyone other than the expected shows up.
<El-Cideon> The catwalk stands out. There are ladders to access it in each corner of the room. Otherwise, the debris along the south wall offers some places to hide--a mashed-up aircar in the southwest corner still has a working door and just enough room to slip inside, should someone want to lie in wait there.(more)
<El-Cideon> As for the camera, it would likely go unnoticed anywhere among the rubbish along the wall. The crane's control room could work too--place it on the desk inside, facing the dingy window, and one would have a view of the whole warehouse (albeit, a slightly gray-tinged view).
<Targo> The control room should be fine, seeing as nobody can get there to check it out without being seen by the camera.
<El-Cideon> With the camera planted, the group can receive the transmission from afar. OOC: Any other preparations to make?
<Targo> OOC: Background check! Ok yeah I got nothing.
<El-Cideon> ~
<El-Cideon> With the prepwork out of the way, Lagoon Company calls Bergstrom and tells him to set up the "meeting" with Slastyaranov and then hits the hay to get a good night's rest. Reviewing the camera feed the next morning shows nothing untoward happening in the warehouse and it's about seven P.M. (just after nightfall) that they arrive in the neighborhood of the warehouse. (more)
<El-Cideon> Slastyaranov is scheduled to show up at eight.
* Forrest parks the van next to the warehouse, just out of sight from the road and then sets up the sensor dish while waiting.
* Wilhelmina leaves the van for the warehouse, intending to use the control room a decent observation post and some easy cover once the shooting starts.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Partial cover while you're in there, Wil (+% to ref).
<El-Cideon> OOC: Er, +5
* Targo sits in a chair in the back of the van, bored out of his mind whilst waiting for their mark. The setup is pretty basic, but the guy shouldn't be expecting anything. Shouldn't.
<El-Cideon> The neighborhood is quite dead and the scanner shows nothing throughout most of the ensuing hour. About ten minutes shy of eight o'clock, the scanner shows a man wandering down the street. He's in no significant hurry and making no real attempt to hide his presence. From all appearances, he doesn't seem to be expecting anything.
<Forrest> "Contact," Forrest tells Targo, intending to wait until their target is approaching the door before they roar out and start blasting, hopefully forcing him into Wilhelmina's web of fiery death.
<El-Cideon> The man approaches the door at a leisurely pace indeed. The big door is partway open, just enough for someone to walk in or out, as he reaches it.
<Forrest> "Here we go!" Forrest tells Targo, gunning the engine and blasting out to the front of the warehouse, wheeling around to cut off retreat towards the road with the side-door facing inwards so Targo can unleash the fury.
<El-Cideon> The man's head whips around as the truck tears out into the street behind him. He looks like the same guy you met at the Ronin Dog hidedout: tall, shock of blond hair, old army jacket of some sort. He's got a heavy rifle slung over his back and one hand in his pocket.
<Targo> The door falls open and Targo pulls the trigger on their new toy, hoping against hope that the guy doesn't react in time and is easy pickings!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Make an attack roll. We'll do init and start formal combat afterwards.
<Targo> roll 1d20+8+1d6 force point! I've got like 8!
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8+1d6 force point! I've got like 8! and gets 29." [1d20=18][1d6=3]
<Targo> OOC: 3d10 damage, yeah?
<El-Cideon> OOC: Yep. And autofire only, for this gun.
<Targo> OOC: Ah. Then it should be 27.
<Targo> OOC: My mistake
<Targo> roll 3d10+4
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d10+4 and gets 16." [3d10=7, 2, 3]
<El-Cideon> OOC: No worries, still a solid hit.
<El-Cideon> The barrage of bolts tears into Slastyaranov and riddles the warehouse door with impact craters! The Russian(?) soldier slips into a combat posture instatnyl and prepares to retaliate!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Init.
<Targo> roll 1d20+6 I wish the van gave me cover, let's hope he doesn't blow it up
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+6 I wish the van gave me cover, let's hope he doesn't blow it up and gets 15." [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+13
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+13 and gets 20." [1d20=7]
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+12 and gets 27." [1d20=15]
<Forrest> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+10 and gets 16." [1d20=6]
* El-Cideon cues the boss music: The Menace  Ken Nakagawa, Daisuke Achiwa  Mana-Khemia Original Soundtrack (DISC1)  2007  2:11 - 269kbps
* El-Cideon cues the boss music: Keep The Flag Flying  Daisuke Ishiwatari  Guilty Gear XX Accent Core  1:34 - 128kbps
<El-Cideon> OOC: WIl, you're up.
* Wilhelmina waits for either their target to slip into the warehouse or Targo and Forrest to let her know that she's needed outside.
<Wilhelmina> OOC: Or not!
* Wilhelmina shoots at their target since she can see him!
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10 aim
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10 aim and gets 17." [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Miss.
<El-Cideon> Slastyaranov ignores Wil's bolt as it sears the door by his head. He whips a grenade from his pocket, pulls the pin and tries to hurl it into the truck with Targo before bolting inside the warehouse and making for the corner farthest from Wil.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+12 and gets 16." [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> roll 4d6+5 damage to be halved
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 4d6+5 damage to be halved and gets 19." [4d6=5, 6, 2, 1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest.
<Forrest> OOC: is the van intact? What happened with the grenade?
<El-Cideon> OOC: Eh, gonna say null damage since the roll itself wasn't a hit.
* Forrest rolls out of the van with rifle at the ready and moves towards the door, not actually heading through it just yet.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Holding, or just not fully acting this round? Either way, Targo's move.
<Targo> OOC: Woah what you're leaving me alone in an unmoving van? :V
<Targo> OOC: Awww.
<Targo> Targo holds down the trigger, eyes hidden by reflective goggles that prevent blindness due to the excessive muzzle flash!
<Targo> roll 1d20+6 shoot him!
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+6 shoot him! and gets 17." [1d20=11]
<Targo> roll 3d10+4 halved if no evasion, which any sensible person would have
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d10+4 halved if no evasion, which any sensible person would have and gets 25." [3d10=9, 10, 2]
<El-Cideon> OOC: He actually went inside the warehouse. You can't shoot through the wall.
<Targo> OOC: Oh!
<Targo> OOC: How terrible. :V
<Targo> Targo leaps off the makeshift turret and takes cover by the door, mirroring Forrest's actions from the other side.
<Targo> "He's in the corner. Should be no trouble," he grunts through the commlink, the simple orders giving heart to his companions!
<El-Cideon> OOC: Wil.
* Wilhelmina takes aim far more carefully, now, before trying to shoot their evasive friend!
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+11 and gets 13." [1d20=2]
<El-Cideon> Another miss! Slastyaranov draws his rifle to return fire--
<El-Cideon> roll 3d10+5
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d10+5 and gets 22." [3d10=3, 7, 7]
<El-Cideon> --but the blast impacts the wall surrounding the control room instead, and he makes his way towards the ladder in the corner, drawing some kind of grappling hook from inside his coat. OOC: Forrest.
<El-Cideon> OOC: Er.
<El-Cideon> OOC: I rolled a damage roll instead of attack >.< Sec.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+12
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+12 and gets 31." [1d20=19]
<El-Cideon> rol 3d10+5 okay that actually is a hit
<El-Cideon> roll 3d10+5 okay that actually is a hit
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 3d10+5 okay that actually is a hit and gets 19." [3d10=1, 6, 7]
<El-Cideon> --and the bolt zings through the window of the control room, striking Wil. Slastyaranov makes his way towards the ladder in the corner, drawing some kind of grappling hook from inside his coat. OOC: Forrest, now it's your turn. >.>
* Forrest steps fully into the warehouse, moving towards Slastyaranov and firing a blast of superheated plasma his way!
<Forrest> roll 1d20+7
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+7 and gets 9." [1d20=2]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Miss: Targo, your go.
<Targo> Rushing around the door as well, Targo likewise fires a shot towards their fast-moving target!
<Targo> roll 1d20+8+1d6 I like force points and you guys should too
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8+1d6 I like force points and you guys should too and gets 24." [1d20=11][1d6=5]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit
<Targo> roll 3d8+4
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+4 and gets 19." [3d8=1, 7, 7]
<El-Cideon> The bolt strikes true, but the enemy is unphased despite the force of the strike! OOC: Wil.
* Wilhelmina is fairly upset that Targo of all people is showing off so brazenly in front of her. It's tempting to shoot him instead, but twenty five thousand is a compelling enough reason to kill their Russian target. Her aim this time is extra careful!
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10+1d6
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10+1d6 and gets 17." [1d20=1][1d6=6]
<El-Cideon> Another miss! This just isn't Wil's day. Slastyaranov turns from his attackers for a moment and fires the strange device up at the catwalk--
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+11
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+11 and gets 13." [1d20=2]
<El-Cideon> --it snags in the rafters, the wire starts whirring along its runners and Slastyaranov ascends to the ceiling, dropping onto the catwalk thereafter. OOC: Forrest.
<Forrest> It's almost as if Forrest can hear the words of his old gunnery sergeant in his mind as Slastyaranov attempts to escape. 'Use the ironsights you worthless maggot!' Emboldened by this sage advice from the beyond, Forrest neglects his targetting computer and fires from the heart, issuing forth a blazing bolt of brilliant energy encapsulating a packet of particles accelerated to near light speed!
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9+1d6 aiming
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9+1d6 aiming and gets 24." [1d20=14][1d6=1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Forrest> roll 4d8+4
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 4d8+4 and gets 20." [4d8=1, 7, 5, 3]
<El-Cideon> The bolt strikes true, striking Slastyaranov just as he lands on his feet! OOC: Targo.
* Targo fires again, attempting to take cover from vengeance from above!
<Targo> roll 1d20+8
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8 and gets 16." [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Miss. Wil, you're up.
<Wilhelmina> "I said we needed explosives," Wilhelmina grumbles, taking aim once more from her rather dubious cover.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10+1d6
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10+1d6 and gets 30." [1d20=19][1d6=1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Wilhelmina> roll 4d8+4 at last!
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 4d8+4 at last! and gets 24." [4d8=3, 6, 8, 3]
<El-Cideon> A terrific shot! Slastyaranov drops to one knee with this blow, clearly winded.
<El-Cideon> Up on the catwalk, Slastyaranov calls down: "The boys from Orangetown, no? Nice work cleaning up the rabble. Shame we couldn't work together again, but all
<El-Cideon> "all's fair in love and war." There's no return fire at this particular moment. Slastyaranov seems to be focusing on something.
<El-Cideon> OOC Go, Forrest.
<Forrest> "You know it, just business!" Forrest calls back as he takes aim and fires once more.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+9 and gets 15." [1d20=6]
<El-Cideon> It's a miss, but a laugh from above suggests that the Russian agrees woth Forrest's sentiment wholeheartedly. OOC: Targo.
<Targo> Pinned down from three directions, no escape route, and he's laughing? Targo doesn't have time for a witty retort, and instead fires another bolt towards his foe, hoping to send him tumbling from the catwalk.
<Targo> roll 1d20+8+1d6
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 1d20+8+1d6 and gets 33." [1d20=19][1d6=6]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Targo> roll 3d8+4 man I want my crit :V
* Hatbot --> "Targo rolls 3d8+4 man I want my crit :V and gets 17." [3d8=7, 4, 2]
<El-Cideon> The bolt sears another hole through Slastyaranov's tattered army coat and provokes a distressed groan this time! OOC: Wil.
<Wilhelmina> "Just die," she mutters. It seems like there won't be a flamethrower debut this time.
<Wilhelmina> roll 1d20+10+1d6 aim
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 1d20+10+1d6 aim and gets 23." [1d20=12][1d6=1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Hit.
<Wilhelmina> roll 4d8+4
* Hatbot --> "Wilhelmina rolls 4d8+4 and gets 23." [4d8=3, 5, 6, 5]
<El-Cideon> Another yelp, and he looks to be tottering a bit from what the team on the ground can see. He's probably on his last legs here, but he clearly doesn't want to go down without a fight. Slastyaranov falls prone to minimize his profile and hurls another grenade down at Forrest and Targo!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+12+2d6 (only better d6 roll will be taken)
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+12+2d6 (only better d6 roll will be taken) and gets 27." [1d20=8][2d6=5, 2]
<El-Cideon> OOC: So, 25. Full hit for both, though Forrest halves it.
<El-Cideon> roll 4d6+5
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 4d6+5 and gets 17." [4d6=2, 6, 3, 1]
<El-Cideon> OOC: Forrest, you're up. He's prone now, which is...+5 to ref, I think?
<Forrest> "Ow!" Forrest raises a hand to shield his shrapnel-covered face, moving away from Targo and flicking his rifle to autofire as he sprays a wall of light up towards the gantry Slastyaranov hides on.
<Forrest> roll 1d20+3 autofire
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 1d20+3 autofire and gets 4." [1d20=1]
<Forrest> roll 3d8+4 halved
* Hatbot --> "Forrest rolls 3d8+4 halved and gets 25." [3d8=8, 5, 8]
<El-Cideon> The rain of burning plasma batters the catwalk and Slastyaranov both, killing the Russian and sending his body tumbling off the edge to impact on the ground below! The battle is over.
<Forrest> "Phew," Forrest relaxes, rifle dropping to his side. "Guy put up a hell of a fight, gotta give'em that."
* Targo slumps against the wall, good evidence of the Russian's fighting skill quite evident.
<Targo> OOC: Second wind whee
<Wilhelmina> "Okay, let's torch the place now," Wilhelmina announces, making her way over to Targo.
<Targo> "We would've got some attention," he grunts, not moving. "Search his body and let's go quickly- do we have to set it on fire? Whatever."
<Forrest> "Lets not," Forrest suggests. "No sense burning our bridges - or warehouses."
<Wilhelmina> "Let's set the body on fire, at least," Wilhelmina offers as a compromise.
<El-Cideon> Slastyaranov's heavy rifle is lying near his body, still intact despite the fall. It's a nasty-looking piece of equipment and has a standard targeting scope locked onto it. He seems to have used all his grenades, and his cloak is shot to tatters, but a heavy blaster pistol, vibroblade and security kit are also found on him (though the kit is thoroughly crushed by the fall).
<El-Cideon> The zipwire gun is still tangled up on the rafters, if the Company should care to retrieve it.
<Forrest> "You want to give him a viking funeral be my guest," Forrest offers after grabbing up the rifle, pistol, and vibroblade.
* Wilhelmina does it with pleasure.
* Targo stumbles back towards the van, intending to fall asleep in the back on the way home and maybe treat himself to a morphine overdose when he gets back to the office.
<El-Cideon> And so, he burns. A nice little present for when the clean-up crew comes. Anyway, the group manages to evacuate before anyone else reaches the site, and their trip back to their home base is uneventful.