>>30593220
You’re trying very hard not to panic. Your safehouse has been compromised, you’ve seen cargo you definitely weren’t intended to see, and there’s a rich-looking girl nearly insensate on the floor. You have neither the drugs necessary to hasten her awakening, nor the medical knowledge to make do with what you have. What you do have is a car nearby ready for escape. You also have a radio frequency scanner in your pocket. There’s no time to waste, but there’s a difference between moving quickly and making haste.

You groan as the scanner indicates exactly what you expected. This chick’s clothes are covered in RFIDs. You berate yourself while burning them off with your tag eraser. It was no wonder that whoever it was that broke into the safehouse was able to find it. Assuming that they were able to track the signal from something as small as an RFID tag was a serious long shot, but doing so would let them know the exact time and location where the signal cut out.

By the time you’re done burning off the tags, the woman has more or less come to. Her eyes are still having trouble focusing, but she’s able to lift her head off of the floor and move her limbs with a little more agility.

“Hello?” she says weakly.

“Hi.” You quickly say back. “You’re gonna have to wake up a little faster, because we’ve gotta go.”

[ 2/3 ]

>>30593242
“Okay…” She needs your help to get to her feet, and even then she can’t stop swaying back and forth. You pack up what few things you brought with you and leave the safehouse. As much as you’d like to keep the “drive” in the same condition you found it, the case is too heavy to carry on a whim and you doubt its contents would willingly go back in. The woman is still too out of it to walk on her own, and needs to lean on your shoulder the entire way between the apartment and the garage where you stored your car. You need to find a new place to hide, and now.

>Get another safehouse from Jabir. It’s not like it’s his fault that this one fell through.
>Go back to your apartment. The situation has changed drastically and you might need the extra equipment.
>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.

>>30593270
>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.
Assume Jabir has sold us out until otherwise proven. The safehouse he provided has been compromised; he is currently unreliable.

>>30593270
>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.

>>30593270
>>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.

>>30593270
>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.

Like hell we are bringing her to our place.

>>30593364
>>30593388
>>30593524
>Writing.

>>30593270

>A coffin hotel at least has the anonymity you’d need to wait until the girl finishes waking up.

Trace isnt THAT much of an adrenaline junkie

>>30593270
You strongly consider calling up Jabir to arrange another safehouse before remembering that it was his safehouse that got compromised in the first place. People vanish off the streets every day and most of them don’t have a fixer to help them do it. You sure as hell didn’t the first time you needed to vanish. Jabir could fuck himself. You set the car to drive to the outskirts of Downtown. There was a rentable garage right near a fine coffin hotel just inside of Redmond. Just thinking about your car makes you remember the reason you had decided against going into Redmond in the first place, but there was little to be done at this point. You needed a place that was anonymous and that never checked ID. Population density and low security were your friends here.

The girl is lowly lolling herself back to sleep in the seat next to you.

“Shit.” You start. You roughly shake her shoulder and speak in a loud and firm voice. “Hey! I need you awake, now!” The girl stirs and grunts in discontent. “I need you to focus on talking to me so you don’t fall back asleep.” If nothing else, you could get a little extra information out of her along with keeping her at least a little lucid. “Tell me your name and what day you think it is.”

“Harriet.” She sluggishly says. “It’s August tenth.” It was the thirteenth. She had been under for three days. She tries to focus her eyes and stare at you. “Where are the others? There are supposed to be four of you.”

>Tell the truth. You’re on your own, and so is she.
>Lie. You’re taking her to them once the coast is clear.
>Write-in

>>30593780
>Write-in
"Change of plans. We're on our own for at least another day."

>>30593780
(I am way too fucking used to writing in past tense. I need to finish tricking myself into using present-tense if only to keep tense agreement when I'm quest-running)

>>30593780
Ask her why she was in a box.

>>30593832
Sounds good to me.

>>30593871
No, it's safer for the both of us if we play it like the plan that she was expecting to follow blew up and we're the poor schmuck she has to work with to get back where she belongs.

>>30593834
>>30593910
>Writing

>>30593960
I want to know what shes on. Drugs? BTL? we need to know

>>30593780
The best thing about talking to people when they’re drugged is that lying becomes difficult. Granted, truth-telling also becomes difficult sometimes, but you’re hedging your bets here. Harriet mentioning she was expecting a team is interesting on its own, and certainly something to remember, but you needed to keep yourself and her focused here.

“There’s been a change of plans.” You say. “We’re on our own for another day, maybe more if we’re unlucky. Do you understand?” The more reason you had to get Harriet to talk, the less likely she was to fall asleep.

“Yes.” She nods sleepily. This situation has officially spiraled out of your control. When Jabir said this job was “right up your alley,” you immediately became concerned. It looks like he was right again, but probably not for the reason he intended.

“Harriet, I need you to stay focused.” You urge. “I know this isn’t an ideal situation, but I’m not letting anything happen to you. My name’s Echo_TRACER. Sorry to say, but things are seriously glitched right now.”

“Where are we going?” Harriet asks. It looks like she’s getting a little more lucid.

“We need to lay low for a little while. There’s a place in Redmond where we can hide while I try and regroup.”

(cont.)

File: 1393804546384.jpg-(572 KB, 1600x900, Coffin Hotel.jpg)

572 KB JPG

>>30594128
Harriet is a lot better by the time you’re both on your feet. She’s still a little wobbly, but whatever anesthesia she was under is wearing off fast. The car’s been parked in a self-storage facility at the edge of Downtown, and you’ve set a course of a coffin hotel you know you can trust.

Leonardo’s is one of the first stops in Touristville, the only part of Redmond Barrens most outsiders ever see. Stalls manned by overly-exuberant salesmen hocking food and cheap wares line the streets, and a combination of paper lamps, dim streetlights and what look like strings of Christmas lights provide plenty of illumination. The homogenous atmosphere and the teeming night crowds help mask your and Harriet’s presence.

Leonardo’s is a grubby shithole of a hotel run by a sketchy asshole with more greed than sense. The black and white tile floor of the lobby looks grimy, and the man behind the counter looks grimier. He doesn’t even give you a look before accepting your money, reading off your pod numbers and waving you through. Once inside, you take the stairs up to your coffins (thankfully across from each other) and try and get settled. You’re still a bit rattled from earlier, and have a ton of questions.

>What do you want to ask Harriet?

>>30594328
Probe her for more information. Who were the people she was supposed to meet?

>>30594328
"Who are these guys you were supposed to meet anyway? And what are you coming off of, anyway?"

Maybe we tip our ignorance, but shit, no one has anything, so lets get back on track

>>30594507
>>30594650
>Writing

>>30594507
>>30594650
Wow, your questions are terrible.
The least you could have done was asked her what she last remembered, and ask her if everything in her cyberware checks out okay.
That way we could get the information and pass it off as us checking her memory for any damage due to the anesthesia.

>>30594799
Then you post next time.

>>30594328
“Harriet, I don’t really know the whole situation here. I’m just the hired help, and I signed on without knowing what I was getting into. The people who hired me, the people you were expecting when you woke up, I’ve never actually met them.”

“Neither have I. Before I was anesthetized and handed to those Ares men, I was told that a team of four people would be rescuing me on the thirteenth. I assume that that’s today, isn’t it?” Now that she has her wits back about her, Harriet sounds a lot more… refined? Upper class? Whatever it was, she sounds like she comes from the opposite side of town from where you go to work.

“About that: you were seriously out of it when you came to back in the apartment. What did they have you on that knocked you out like that?” Three days of anesthesia was too much by anyone’s standards.

“How would I know that?” she asks indignantly. “I know that it was a sedative, and I suppose it must have been a powerful one to put to sleep for as long as it did.” You are not a doctor, but you’re pretty sure that isn’t how sedatives work. “Are you certain that you’ll be able to protect me until we meet up with your team?”

“Don’t worry about that.” You almost miss half-sedated Harriet now that you’ve been exposed to talkative Harriet. “Anyway, you haven’t eaten in three days, right? I’ll get you something real quick. Stay here, okay?” For once, you were thankful for the definitely-against-safety-standards food stalls people liked setting up in coffin hotels. To Harriet’s credit, she keeps herself in your line of sight while you stand in line at a stand offering “Redmond-grown chicken.” You had a call to make before you got back to Harriet.

>Call Jabir. Ask about any other runner teams hired for your job.
>Call Summer. Ask about any news in clubs popular for work-hungry runners.
>Call Neurophage. Ask about any rumblings in the data havens that might relate to Harriet.

>>30594974
>Call Neurophage. Ask about any rumblings in the data havens that might relate to Harriet.

>>30594974
>Call Neurophage. Ask about any rumblings in the data havens that might relate to Harriet

>>30594974
>>Call Neurophage. Ask about any rumblings in the data havens that might relate to Harriet.

>>30595011
>>30595056
>>30595078
>Writing

>>30594974
>Call Jabir. Ask about any other runner teams hired for your job.

I'm clearly in the minority

>>30594974
You’re still steamed at Jabir for the safehouse fiasco earlier, and you didn’t want to expose Summer to any undue trouble without a good reason. Neurophage is well-connected within the Hacker Underground, and spends most of his non-Fortune time browsing data havens. If anyone knows anything that has to do with Harriet, it’s him.

“Good evening, Echo.” Neurophage’s heavily-synthesized voice says when the call connects. You inwardly sigh at his absurd icon when it appears in the call window. “This is the second time today that you’ve contacted me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need information, Phage, and I figure you’re the best man to get it for me.”

“What’s the subject? Give me as much info as you can.” The one disadvantage of surfing data havens is that absolutely everything ends up in them. Neurophage would need a lot of context if you want him to be of any serious help.

“Data cluster surrounding a young woman with a pair of military-grade cyberlegs. Blonde hair and blue-eyes. Height is about five feet and three inches. Weight is somewhere in the neighborhood of one hundred and twenty pounds. Age is between nineteen and twenty-three. Calls herself Harriet, but that might be a pseudonym. She speaks like she came from Bellevue, or maybe an arcology.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I should have the answers by tomorrow morning. In the meantime, try to keep yourself alive. Whatever the reason for your request, I doubt it’s safe.” The call cuts out, and Neurophage’s icon vanishes. Your turn in line comes up, and you absentmindedly accept whatever the man at the counter recommends. You can’t help but think that until about an hour ago, you were going to start your vacation twenty-four hours from now.

(cont.)

>>30595492
You carry a paper box of chicken, rice and green beans back up to where you left Harriet. One of the only worthwhile things you’ve heard about living in Redmond is that urban farming communities make sure you never go hungry so long as you pay in favor. She accepts the food with little more than a curt nod and a withering look and immediately digs in. Maybe she’d be less disapproving with a full stomach. You leave her to eat and head for the walkway overlooking the rest of the building. You lean against the rail and let out a sigh. It had been a long day and tomorrow would likely be no better.

“Hey there. You new around here?” You lift your head and glance around. About twenty feet away, a middle-aged man with a cigarette dangling from his fingers waves at you. His brown hair is just starting to grey, and the look of his build suggests a life of labor.

“Yeah,” you say back, “just got in.” The man approaches and extends a hand.

“The name’s Jason. I’m kind of a regular around here.” The man flashes a friendly smile.

>Be friendly. Give him your work alias.
>Be cautious. Give him a fake name altogether.
>Be dismissive. You had more important things to worry about.
>Other (Write-in)

(Also breaking for about twenty minutes so I can eat dinner.)

>>30595738
>>Be friendly. Give him your work alias.

>>30595738
>>Be cautious. Give him a fake name altogether.

>>30595738
>>Other (Write-in)
I'd say be friendly, strike up some easy conversation, but give a fake name. Also, I have to ask, what assurance do we have that we actually took care of all the RFID tags and that the guy bolting out the safehouse, didn't tag our car on his way out?

>>30595889
Voting for this. We could be in trouble, try not to act suspicious.

>>30595889
Sounds good to me.

>>30595889
>>30595906
>>30596005

>Back from favortown. Also, writing.

Your primary assurance is that you went over basically every inch of Harriet with a radio frequency scanner. Any RFID that wasn't picked up by it probably isn't useful for tracking. As for the car, for what it's worth, the storage facility where it was stored looked unmolested, but I suppose that's cold comfort in this case.

>>30596322
Can I add in that we give our car a check over then?

>>30596423
I don't mind. Even if every detail is normally important in Shadowrun, I'm not going to spring anything on you from your car.

>>30595738
“Ethan.” You take Jason’s hand and he gives it a powerful shake. “I’m passing through the area. Figured this place was as good as any.”

“A nomad, huh?” Jason laughs. “We get that type around here every once in a while. You might not look it, but I can tell you’re used to this kind of place.”

“You’d be right about that, I guess.” You’re not generally one to be ashamed of your roots, but your life in the shadows wasn’t always upscale apartments and real coffee. You lived in some pretty shitty places and pretty dehumanizing conditions when you were just starting out, and you’ve picked up your share of bad memories from that time. “What about you? What does someone do to be a regular around here?”

“Courier work, mostly. Public services won’t touch places like Redmond of Puyallup, so someone’s gotta drive the mail out there. The pay’s pretty drek, but at least I can eat for cheap.” Jason gives you a knowing look and points his thumb back towards where Harriet is eating. “What’s the story with the young lady back there? New traveling companion?”

>Say she’s your sister.
>Say she’s a runaway.
>Other (write-in)

>>30596638
I never asked her what her deal is. I might get around to it.

>>30596638
>Other
She's just a traveling companion, business.

>>30596638
>Other (write-in)
Cousin, fell in with a bad crowd, and waiting for the heat to die down with us.
That'll explain why we don't look alike, and she's expensive while we're obviously not.

>>30596703
>>30596756
>>30596818
We're a bit at odds here, so I'll be combining these together as best as I can.

>Also, writing

>>30596957

I guess its to late to pull mine back now

>>30596638
“She’s my cousin.” You say. “I get back into Seattle and the first thing she tells me is that she’s in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble could a rich-looking lass like that get into?”

“I never got around to asking, but it wouldn’t be the first time if she fell in with a bad crowd. I’ll be in town until the heat’s off of her. And if it never is, she’ll ride with me until I find somewhere for her.”

“You’d drop her off just like that? I guess even family doesn’t get special treatment, huh?”

“I was never really that close with her. This is the first time in years we’ve actually seen each other.”

“Well, it was fine meeting you, Ethan. It’ll be good having you around for as long as you’re in town. I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta talk to someone about my work schedule tomorrow.”

“Peace be upon you, Jason.” You’re fairly certain that Jabir won’t mind you stealing his catch phrase, just this once.

“You too, omae.” Jason gives you a clap on the shoulder and walks back into a row of pods, taking a long drag from his cigarette on the way.

“Okay.” You whisper to yourself. “Time’s ripe for a little legwork.” The night was young, and you a lot of things you needed to know before Neurophage got back with his intel.

>You can do your own legwork for now. It’ll be a risk to bring Harriet with you, but she’s safer with you than on her own.
>You can do your own legwork for now. There’s at least one person you can trust to keep an eye on Harriet until you get back.
>You’d hate to get your knowledge second-hand, but you can’t afford to leave Harriet’s side. You’ve got at least one old coworker who owes you a favor.

>>30597255
>You’d hate to get your knowledge second-hand, but you can’t afford to leave Harriet’s side. You’ve got at least one old coworker who owes you a favor.

>>30597255
Slapped your shoulder? make sure he didnt slap a kick me sign on your back. Or worse, a RFID tag.

>You’d hate to get your knowledge second-hand, but you can’t afford to leave Harriet’s side. You’ve got at least one old coworker who owes you a favor.

I want to see some more runners, damn it

>>30597255
>>You can do your own legwork for now. It’ll be a risk to bring Harriet with you, but she’s safer with you than on her own.

>>30597283
>>30597347
>Writing.

>>30597255
You quickly return to Harriet, who’s finished eating by now. Only a few grains of rice remain stuck to the inside of the box. For someone eating their first meal in days, she had been surprisingly clean. Not one grain of rice remains stuck to her face or clothes. She looks slightly more amiable than when you last spoke with her, though only slightly.

“Who was that man from just now?” she asks.

“A regular. The best way to blend in to somewhere like here is to get to know the locals. Just a second, I gotta check something.” You roll back into your pod, a space barely larger than your own body, and pull the radio frequency scanner out of your bag. The last thing you need is an RFID tag snuck onto you. Thankfully, going over your body doesn’t reveal any radio signals you don’t expect to be there. Once you’re certain, you come back out.

“Was something wrong?” Harriet asks.

“Nothing important. You should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long one.” Every work day is a long one, but you’ve never had one on escort duty before. You should be outside, walking the street and preparing for tomorrow, but you can’t really afford to right now. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have any eyes on the street. You make sure that Harriet’s closed herself up in her pod before locking the door on yours and start making a commcall.

Even though you usually do solo runs, you’ve worked as a member of a team before. These partnerships were usually short-lived at best, but you’ve never left a team with bad blood or hurt feelings. Part of your policy is that grudges are forbidden between coworkers. Next to none of them can be called a friend, but at least one owes you a favor.

[End of day 1]

(cont.)

File: 1393815247586.jpg-(120 KB, 900x304, seattle_2072_re_colored_b(...).jpg)

120 KB JPG

>>30597729
You’re a shadowrunner, and one of the best. Life isn’t fair in the Sixth World, and when you’re on top of the stack it’s kill or be killed, chummer. You usually do solo runs, but every once in a while, you’ll get the call to work as part of a team. These crews never last. Sometimes they end in a payday, and sometimes they end in a morgue. No one lives forever, and every run goes pear-shaped eventually. When one does, you know what to do.

You are…

>a street samurai. "You're an aug. Your extra meat was grown in a vat and you've swapped out your decaying flesh for metal. They say you gave up your soul for power. For you, there was never a choice."
>an infiltrator. “You’re a shadow, a ghost, a specter. If someone can see you, you can usually see them. If someone can’t see you, then you know you’re doing your job right. It’s been a long time since you felt like a real person, but you’ve already gotten used to being a ghost.”
>an adept. “You heard the calling of the magic in your soul and learned what it meant to wield power. It flows through your fists and ends in your enemy. You can run up walls, crush throats with your fist, and dodge bullets. You’re never more alive than when you’re pushing your magic to the limit.”
>a mage. “You heard the calling of the magic in your soul and learned what it meant to wield power. The spirits and elements heed your word. When you speak, reality itself listens. You know that the slightest misstep in your chants, the tiniest imperfection in your focus will destroy you. But you’ve never been one to make mistakes.”

>>30597980
>an infiltrator. “You’re a shadow, a ghost, a specter. If someone can see you, you can usually see them. If someone can’t see you, then you know you’re doing your job right. It’s been a long time since you felt like a real person, but you’ve already gotten used to being a ghost.”

>>30597980
>a street samurai. "You're an aug. Your extra meat was grown in a vat and you've swapped out your decaying flesh for metal. They say you gave up your soul for power. For you, there was never a choice."

>>30597980
>an adept. “You heard the calling of the magic in your soul and learned what it meant to wield power. It flows through your fists and ends in your enemy. You can run up walls, crush throats with your fist, and dodge bullets. You’re never more alive than when you’re pushing your magic to the limit.”

>>30597980
>an adept. “You heard the calling of the magic in your soul and learned what it meant to wield power. It flows through your fists and ends in your enemy. You can run up walls, crush throats with your fist, and dodge bullets. You’re never more alive than when you’re pushing your magic to the limit.”

>>30597980
>a street samurai. "You're an aug. Your extra meat was grown in a vat and you've swapped out your decaying flesh for metal. They say you gave up your soul for power. For you, there was never a choice."

Street Samurai all the way.

>>30597980
>>a mage. “You heard the calling of the magic in your soul and learned what it meant to wield power. The spirits and elements heed your word. When you speak, reality itself listens. You know that the slightest misstep in your chants, the tiniest imperfection in your focus will destroy you. But you’ve never been one to make mistakes.”

>>30597980
>a street samurai. "You're an aug. Your extra meat was grown in a vat and you've swapped out your decaying flesh for metal. They say you gave up your soul for power. For you, there was never a choice."

>>30598184
>>30598143
>>30598068
Street Sam

>>30598043
Infiltrator

>>30598128
>>30598135
Adept

>>30598162
Mage

Looks like the sammies win.

>Writing

>>30597980
You’re street samurai, born and raised. You’ve always had a knack for fighting, and the kind of body that accepted augments with ease. You’re more machine than man, now. And you’ve been told before that you’ve let yourself become twisted and evil. You know the truth. You haven’t lost your mind. You have a code, a way, a list of personal rules and ethics that you cling to if only to keep your mind at ease. It hasn’t always been easy, and it hasn’t always been right. But it’s always been you.

You are…

>A family man. "Your arm and leg will never grow back, no matter how long you wait. There might be cameras in your eyes and wires down your spine, but you know what's in your heart. You may be more machine than man now, but you're still human. There's a teenaged girl fast asleep in your apartment whose living expenses are depending on her dad's next job.”

>A behemoth. “I hasn’t been that long since you sang Russian war anthems, drank Russian liquor and fought to the death alongside proud Russian people. No one ever said a troll would amount to anything. That guy never saw a troll walk away from machinegun fire with what looked like paper cuts. You haven’t been a soldier in a long time, but you still stand as an implacable wall between your allies and enemies. You just have different allies now.”

>A thug. “The first time anyone called you a monster was back when you beat a guy half to death for almost putting a scratch on your bike. The last time was when you killed the Knight Errant captain who ordered your whole gang to be slaughtered. It used to be about revenge, but revenge gets old. You have new friends now, and you’re living better than ever, but you’ll never stop being angry.”

>>30598701
>A behemoth. “I hasn’t been that long since you sang Russian war anthems, drank Russian liquor and fought to the death alongside proud Russian people. No one ever said a troll would amount to anything. That guy never saw a troll walk away from machinegun fire with what looked like paper cuts. You haven’t been a soldier in a long time, but you still stand as an implacable wall between your allies and enemies. You just have different allies now.”

Its like you know me, Null

>>30598701
>A behemoth. “I hasn’t been that long since you sang Russian war anthems, drank Russian liquor and fought to the death alongside proud Russian people. No one ever said a troll would amount to anything. That guy never saw a troll walk away from machinegun fire with what looked like paper cuts. You haven’t been a soldier in a long time, but you still stand as an implacable wall between your allies and enemies. You just have different allies now.”
But Imperial Japanese Marine. Recruited to be a meatshield and cannon fodder, and came out the other side of jigoku having proven that the true Yamato Damashi resides within our heart (even if only to our squad).

>>30598701
>>A behemoth. “I hasn’t been that long since you sang Russian war anthems, drank Russian liquor and fought to the death alongside proud Russian people. No one ever said a troll would amount to anything. That guy never saw a troll walk away from machinegun fire with what looked like paper cuts. You haven’t been a soldier in a long time, but you still stand as an implacable wall between your allies and enemies. You just have different allies now.”

>>30598816
But I love Russian Vory Troll so much

>>30598816
>But Imperial Japanese Marine. Recruited to be a meatshield and cannon fodder, and came out the other side of jigoku having proven that the true Yamato Damashi resides within our heart (even if only to our squad).

This will require serious consideration, or at least a die roll when the vote closes.

>>30598839
And I loved my Imperial Japanese Troll with the adopted daughteru who read too much Magical Girl manga (and just so happened to start to manifest magic) and had a mischievous AI living in his home's node (it was a very silly, but fun, campaign).

>>30598701
>>A behemoth. “I hasn’t been that long since you sang Russian war anthems, drank Russian liquor and fought to the death alongside proud Russian people. No one ever said a troll would amount to anything. That guy never saw a troll walk away from machinegun fire with what looked like paper cuts. You haven’t been a soldier in a long time, but you still stand as an implacable wall between your allies and enemies. You just have different allies now.”

Rolled 2

>>30598769
>>30598816
>>30598822
>>30598998

Folk unanimously wanted some troll sam. Troll sam you will get. Also, >>30598998 this kind anon came up with a fantastic idea, so I'm rolling for it.

1. Russian samurai who survived the harsh Russian winters of his military career thanks to the strength of his body and the strength of his comrades.

2. Japanese samurai who survived in the Imperial Marines thanks to the righteousness of his reason and strength of his resolve.

>>30598839
I as well would like to go with Russian troll.

>>30599121
fair enough

Imperial Marine Sam it is

Rolled 1

>>30599121
I need to grow some eyes. I meant >>30598917 this kind anon.

>>30599140
I want it to.

I think we may have lost the die roll

>>30599154
>And now, the writing.

>>30599121
Why did we roll for this again? I mean only one person wanted that.

Very well. There's plenty of dissent here, so I'll open up voting once more.

Vote 1. Russian troll samurai.

Vote 2. Japanese Imperial Marine troll samurai.

Vote will last the usual time.

>>30599369
2

>>30599369
>1

>>30599369
1

>>30599369
1

>>30599369
2

>>30599369
2

>>30599369
1

>>30599369
2

>>30599369
1

>>30599381
>>30599403
>>30599431
>>30599586
1

>>30599587
>>30599563
>>30599509
>>30599380
2

We are deadlocked. I am strongly considering giving a few more minutes for a tie-breaker vote, but that's the kind of thing that promotes samefagging.

I'm giving this one last roll, just so that we can be absolutely certain of objec-

Okay, the tiebreaker vote just came in with >>30599635. Even if it's the result of samefagging, I don't care. We're moving on.

>Writing.

>>30598701
Here in Seattle, you are Dreadnought. You’re a street samurai, a front-liner in any combat in the shadows. You are the Plan B, the contingency. When a team needs to drop every motherfucker in the room, accept no substitutes. Your last job just landed you a huge payday, and you’re celebrating with a peaceful evening at home. Of course, “peaceful” for you usually meant too-loud music and at least a liter of vodka. To think, there was a point where it took less than this to affect you. The sound of your mother-tongue is sweet to your ears. Too often in this city, the only people you hear speak Russian have Bratva ties.

The ringing of your commlink cuts straight through your reverie. Your fist clenches, and you hear the spider web of tiny cracks tracing their way along the glass. You down the remainder of your drink in one gulp and raise the display glasses to your eyes. The caller ID reads “Echo_TRACER.” You sigh and shake your head. You had worked with the hacker before, and you still owe him the favor from an incident involving a VTOL and squad of Knight Errant where he risked his life for your sake. You sync the soundlink in your ear to the commlink and press a subvocal microphone against your throat.

“Good evening, Lucas.” You say gruffly.

“Good evening, Aleksandr.” He answers back. Since the VTOL incident, you’ve taken to greeting each other with your work aliases. “Is this a bad time?”

“It is always a bad time whenever you call, Echo. What can I do for you?”

“I’m on a job and I need a little legwork done. I’d love to do it myself, but the cargo for this job is a little heavy and too hot to leave hanging.”

“And what kind of payment can I expect for doing this?”

“The payment of having our debt squared away.”

“Very well, very well.” You grumble. “Tell me how I can help.”

(cont.)

>>30600064
“There’s a company I need you to ask around about, an investment firm called Declan Futures. Go to a few clubs in the Downtown and Redmond areas, but avoid Night Queen.”

“What is your interest, if you don’t mind my asking?” You ask skeptically.

“Not at all. My Johnson supposedly works for them, and the man I had vetting my Johnson just put me in a burned safehouse. I was hoping you could help me fill the gaps in my knowledge until I can find someone to babysit my cargo.”

“I was spending tonight in Russia before you called, Echo. I should hope that’s not all you have to tell me.”

“When have I ever lied to you, Dread? Something that struck me as out of the ordinary were my Johnson’s bodyguards. Apparently, they looked like ex-military. I figured as a military man yourself, you’d have an easier time dealing with them than I would.”

“You certainly know how to keep interesting company.” You snort. “Very well. I will find you your information, and then you will never mention VTOLs or police squads to me again. Are we in agreement?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I will call you in a few hours.” You hang up the call and get to your feet. Memories of home could wait until later. You were never one to skip out on a debt. First of all, you had to figure out where to look.

>Club Penumbra has been a shadowrunner stable for decades. Just because it wasn’t much to the shadow-set anymore doesn’t mean nothing worth finding is there.
>Aces is a scumpit, but a useful scumpit for a certain breed of runner.
>Infinity has a good reputation among runners as the place to meet in secret. Maybe you can charm a few of those secrets out of someone.

>>30600487
>>Infinity has a good reputation among runners as the place to meet in secret. Maybe you can charm a few of those secrets out of someone.

>>30600487
>>Aces is a scumpit, but a useful scumpit for a certain breed of runner.

>>30600487
>Aces is a scumpit, but a useful scumpit for a certain breed of runner.

>>30600552
>>30600672
>Writing

>>30600487
Your apartment building isn’t too far from Aces. The bar has a bad reputation for a good reason, and you’re not sure a night has passed without someone getting beat have to death in years. For tonight, a lined coat and a little form-fitting armor under your regular clothes are enough protection for you. Beyond that, the armor plates on your skin, the titanium in your bones and years of military service make you next to invulnerable.

You hear Aces well before it passes into view. The low-quality speakers blast music from almost a century ago at a volume that no human being could possibly tolerate. The building itself defines hole-in-the-wall, and the surrounding neighborhood could easily define “slum.” You pass at least two unconscious people on your way in, both beaten insensate. When you walk into the bar, every person inside turns their head to glare at you.

You glare back, and most of them go back to their drinks. A heavily-scarred orc hanging around by the door does not. He grabs your coat by the lapel and stares you in the eye.

“The fuck do you think you are, trog?” he spits.

>Stare him down.
>Tell him off.
>Break his wrist.

>>30601008
>>Stare him down.

>>30601008
>Stare him down and if he doesn't let go break his wrist

>>30601008
>>Tell him off.
>

>>30601063
>>30601143
>Writing

>>30601347
God, I've been misclicking like a bastard tonight. Aftereffects of only getting five hours of sleep the last few nights? Who knows?

>>30601008
One of things the military taught you was that force didn’t need demonstration, that the possibility of violence was often more effective than the act of violence. You’ve run headlong into machinegun fire, half-blinded by snow in the middle of Siberia. You’ve been the last to leave a town during an evacuation effort while men threw bombs at anyone they saw. You are not afraid of an orc with stolen augments whose only combat experience came from fights against rival gangs and whoever he made his victims. You know you could kill him six times over in the time it would take him to repeat his threat, and the look in his eyes tells you that he knows, too.

The orc releases his grip on your coat and gets out of your way. You straighten your collar and let the door close behind you. Something not a lot of people realize about being a trained fighter is that you can smell your own. There’s a certain profile presented by the kinds of people who are a cut above ordinary street thugs, a way of holding oneself that presents competence. You don’t see it anywhere in this room. Well, Echo wouldn’t have asked you if he thought it was going to be easy.

>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?
>Talk to someone who looks like a regular. If someone came recruiting, a regular would probably know.

>>30601514
>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?

>>30601378
thats your own fucking fault and you know it. Look what your doing with all that spare time, anyway. At least you arent doing that uber mench thing

>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?

well, they might know who to talk to, at least

>>30601568
We've been through this. Polyphasic sleep is not conducive to achieving gainful employment. That extra time gives me the opportunity both to read books and run quests.

>>30601514
>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?
Evening comrade.

>>30601514
>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?

>>30601514
>>Talk to the bartender. Bartenders know everything, right?

>>30601561
>>30601568
>>30601690
>>30601783
>>30601804

>Writing

>>30601514
Bars like this didn’t see a lot of employee turnover. The kind of person able to become a bartender at a place like Aces was unlikely to quit and less likely to be easily replaced. If something happened here, the bartender is likely to have seen it. You approach the bar and take a seat. The bartender looks towards you and nods curtly.

“Good evening, comrade.” You say. “I was hoping you could help me find someone.”

“Depends on who it is you’re trying to find.” The bartender says.

“A pair of me, with an ex-military look about them. They were probably guarding someone who looked corporate. They were likely looking for hires for a job.”

“Oh, god. Them?” The bartender groans. “Yeah. They came around. Tried to recruit a shadowrunner named Fury. Didn’t work out. After that, they left.”

“And how do I know you are being honest?”

“Between the two ex-mils, the corp woman and Fury, there was enough hostility in the room for me to be lucky to finish my shift alive. Believe me, I’m glad to be rid of them. You want confirmation, check in on Fury later. Of course, I doubt you’d want to. That one’s got a screw loose, I tell ya.”

“Thank you for your time, comrade.” You nod. “I would love to stay, but I have a debt that requires payment.” You get to your feet and leave Aces behind. That turned out to be easier than you thought, though the night was young and there were still many things that might go wrong.

>Head to Penumbra. The old shadowrunner museum is a still a who’s who for the local runner scene, even if it’s a little outdated.
>Head to Infinity. Secret meetings get arranged here every night. You weren’t much for finesse, but you could be surprisingly convincing.

(I'm getting pretty tired. I'll probably wrap this up in the next few updates.)

>>30602090
>Head to Penumbra. The old shadowrunner museum is a still a who’s who for the local runner scene, even if it’s a little outdated.

>>30602090
>>Head to Penumbra. The old shadowrunner museum is a still a who’s who for the local runner scene, even if it’s a little outdated.

>>30602128
>>30602148
>Writing

>>30602090
One of the first things you learned when you moved to Seattle was that history mattered to the local runner scene. When it came to history, Club Penumbra was practically a museum. These days, heading to the outdated club over in Downtown is basically admitting to being a shadowrunner. While this made it a bad place to conduct clandestine business, it made it the perfect place to be seen by the local runners. There was at least one local runner that you knew you had to see.

Club Penumbra was a relic, and it really looked like one. The industrial moonscape motif had apparently been there since the 2040’s, the trid screens embedded in the walls were at least that old, and the music was practically unbearable. The sunken dance floor at the center of the club was mostly empty, with only a few young dancers reveling and seemingly unaware that nearly everyone in the building was a professional criminal.

You slowly work your way around the club’s periphery, keeping an eye out for the person you’re here to see. They’ve been your partner since just after you made landfall in the UCAS, and you can safely say that a lot of jobs would have gone a lot worse if it hadn’t been from them. After nearly a full lap around the club, you spot them. Sitting alone at a table is…

>A cold-eyed Hispanic teenager.
>A fashionably-dressed Japanese.
>An American in a suit and sunglasses.

>>30602400

>A cold-eyed Hispanic teenager.

Can he be an elf? just a tad of variety

>>30602400
>A cold-eyed Hispanic teenager.

>>30602400
>An American in a suit and sunglasses.

>>30602446
>>30602454
>Writing

>>30602400
The Hispanic elf had joined you on your first run in the states. It wasn’t the first time you’d worked alongside a mage, but it was the first time you’d met a nahualli. At first, the Aztec frightened you, but you’ve already grown accustomed to his mannerisms. You take the seat across from his, and his empty eyes turn upon you.

“Dreadnought.” The elf says, barely above a whisper.

“Hello, Quetzal. I was hoping I would run into you.”

“Why? What do you need?”

“A Johnson from Declan Futures has been recruiting runners for a job. I had presumed this would be their first stop.”

“Declan. Yes.” Quetzal nods robotically. “Multiple teams and one job.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“Declan wants information delivered to them, and Ares wants to keep it. Whatever the cause, both sides seek shadowrunners to fulfill their wishes. Additionally, a third part hires aid in capturing the data, though the reason is a mystery.”

“I see.” You nod to yourself. “That is interesting. Quetzal, I still have some digging to do tonight. Would you like to join me?”

“Naturally. We’ll leave immediately.”

You smile to yourself. Echo never said you couldn’t hire your own help. Two heads were better than one, and you plan on giving him some good intel before the night is done.

That's all for tonight, Chummers. Shadowrun Hacker Quest returns next Sunday at 1800 EST. Follow me on Twitter for schedule updates and be the first know when the next thread goes live. https://twitter.com/NullFearQuests

>>30602815
And archived. http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/30593220/