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>>36503364

"Do you know who controls those warehouses I pulled Davey out of?" you ask Paul over the phone, as your motorcycle rolls down the boulevard. The streets here in Vulnex Sector are made for heavy haulers, and it shows.

"All I know over the phone is that they've reverted to Vulnex's direct control," he tells you, with false innocence in his tone, "if you're signal's coming through the info blizzard, you must be close. Come on by if you want to talk about it."

An info blizzard? That's ridiculous. You've got a crystal-clear connection to Paul, even though he's halfway across the sector, and that wouldn't be possible in a corp-generated snowdrift of junk data.

Silencing an entire sector by filling its data streams with nonsense, leaving only direct connections with any chance to communicate.

And there's no way you have a direct connection to the white-haired info broker's assistant at this distance.

>Something fishy's going on, Paul
>Sure, I'll stop by
>Paul, I'm nowhere close to you, are you sure there's actually an info blizzard?
>I'm on a job. No time to stop.
>Write In

>>36503393

>META POST

In-Character Knowledge Pastebin: [Coming Soon]

Twitter(for quest news, not my political views): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20Quest

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

LAST SESSION'S STATS:

Phone Numbers Obtained: Thomson, Eliza
Delivery Completed: N/A, progress on Biohazard?!?
Bonus Objectives Fulfilled: Look, You've Got A Problem; Catching Up With A Friend; Even On My Day Off II; MAXIMUM OVERPANIC; Just In Time; Got Left Holding The Bag; JobJobJobJobJob; The World Is Your Ramp; The Gnawing Emptiness
Bonus Objectives Missed: It's My Day Off, I'm Going To Do What I Want; Opera Tickets; Who Moved My Cheese?; A River In Egypt; Botched Operation; Carry Your Own Damn Bag; Wiping The Smile Off Her Face; (a ton of potential ones that branch from where the bag's destination was); Returning What You Didn't Steal; Limited Access Means No Access; Spray & Pray

LIST OF KNOWN PHONE NUMBERS:
Dr. Morrison, Ryan, Greer (deceased), Alice, Paul, The Bookstore, Arty

>>36503393
>>Something fishy's going on, Paul

>>36503393
>>Paul, I'm nowhere close to you, are you sure there's actually an info blizzard?

>>36503393
>(lie) Sure, I'll stop by

>>36503442
I like your style.

>>36503393
>I'm on a job. No time to stop.
>But I get the feeling there's some things you'll want to be looking into, because between you and me? Is about half a sector.

>>36503451
Y-you too

>>36503423
>>36503439
>>36503442
>>36503459
nice hive mind, guys.

>>36503482
what were you expecting

>>36503482
but anon, we are a hivemind, all these different answers to confuse and confound whoever has hacked the line

>>36503393
>>Paul, I'm nowhere close to you, are you sure there's actually an info blizzard?
Probe him for info or evidence of falsehoods and if he keeps it up>>36503442

>>36503393
>Something fishy's going on, Paul
>I'm on a job. No time to stop.

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>>36503393

"Paul, you sure there's an info blizzard?" you ask, as you lean down over your motorcycle for that extra bit of streamlining. The boxy mass of the SMG presses reassuringly against your chest.

You hope you won't need it.

"I haven't been able to make any connections outside the local cell since the biohazard alert went out," he tells you, "and even that's been unreliable. You're the clearest voice I've heard over the phone in hours."

This speed, on this road, should get you to those Vulnex warhouses in under ten minutes. A detour to the bookstore, no matter how tempting, would more than quadruple that time, and endanger eveyone there.

"Something fishy going on then," you say, leaning into a curve at well over the posted speeds, "because I'm a good twenty minutes away."

Then it clicks, in the shocked silence on the other end of the line, and you chew your lower lip.

You've been fastlaned. VIP'd. Prioritized.

Whatever corp is behind the info blizzard, probably Vulnex, given the location, has singled your signal out, and they're probably listening to everything you say.

"Paul," you say, cutting off the beginnings of a response, "I'll be at the bookstore in a few minutes. Sitting out the alert there sounds like a great plan."

>Any other misinformation you want to spread
>Write In

Secondary choice:

>Elevated highways
>Surface streets

Roll 1d100

>>36503633
>Any other misinformation you want to spread
The fact that we're going to the bookstore

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>36503638
Also:
>Surface streets

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>Elevated Highways

Let's do the jump into the warehouse compound again.

>>36503638
I think we already said that.

Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>36503633
>Any other misinformation you want to spread
maybe tell him we're injured or the package is damaged, just to throw off whoever is listening in

>Surface streets
gotta hide and stay safe

>>36503633
>Elevated highways
switch it up.

>>36503633
>>Any other misinformation you want to spread
Last thread we had the option to cut and run and just deliver the package to Plutonix instead, right?
What if we implied that we were planning on doing just that?

Also,
>Surface streets

>>36503633
Paul, can you pull up all the information you have on (random company name)? I'd like to know a bit more about my buyers.

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>36503633
>Surface streets

>>36503809
>(random company name)

Why not Dagon Core? They're already after us, so we may as well name-drop Nepcor's black ops team.

>>36503823
sounds good to me.

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>>36503633

"Half the neighborhood thinks that," Paul tells you, with a laugh, "especially in the middle of something this crazy. There's enough snow in the air that it has to be more than one corp stirring the storm."

That's not a comforting thought.

"While I'm on my way," you say, nervously flexing your hand around the throttle, "can you pull what you've got on Dagon Core? I'd like to know a bit more about my buyers."

"You're working with them?" Paul asks, voice astoundingly even. You think you've actually managed to straight-up shock him, "after what happened with Qui, they might be setting you up."

"That's why I'm considering other buyers," you say, businesslike. Anyone taking the trouble to listen in knows what you've got already, right? "A list of potential buyers for a piece of history, if you could pull it together."

You zoom past a tempting entrance ramp. The high road into the compound is the one you know, but an elevated highway with few places to get off safely just screams danger at you.

At least the major surface streets have concrete over the old cobbles, even if the weight of heavy haulers has shattered some of it.

"You want a list of buyers for a 'piece of history'," he says, as if he's listing off a food order, "and what I've got on Dagon Core? I should be able to have most of that together by the time you arrive. We'll talk terms then."

"It's been great doing business with you," you say, swinging wide around a turn in the boulevard, "see you soon Paul."

You cut the connection on that lie.

He'll understand.

>>36503937
I didn't hate Paul until I saw him reading catcher in the rye. He has shit taste and needs to pick up To kill a mockingbird instead.

>>36504035
The /a/ edits from Psycho Pass never fail to crack me up.

>>36504094
is pycho pass the anime that the image is from?

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>>36503937

Your motorcycle roars down the deserted street, the powerful throb of its engine echoing back from the brick facades of the facing buildings. How many of those windows hide peering eyes, full of questions about the only vehicle daring to move in the sector?

Well, it's a bit higher-profile than you'd like. A VIP connection, an entire sector shut down to give you clear access, and an info snowstorm to cover your approach.

This was supposed to be your day off, you think wryly as you lean into another corner, using every lane on the road to avoid slowing down. You don't particularly want to think about what happens if you stop.

Hell, you don't want to think about what happens if you don't stop. That duffle bag's from well inside the Old City, and might be full of Seeds for all you know.

You might well be infected already, the deadly nanoconstructors ripping your very molecules apart and shaping the carbon into knife-tipped shards. Your neck itches, and there's a bit of a tingling in your sinuses. Maybe it's the dust.

Maybe it isn't.

You're just not able to lose yourself in the exhilaration of speed and enjoy the ride as usual. There's something nagging at the back of your mind. An odd noise from your engine? You just tuned it earlier today.

No, you realize as it grows louder, that's not your engine.

That's a helicopter.

You can't see it in the slice of sky between the buildings, so you've got a little bit of time before it's on you.

>Speed up
>Get ready to open fire
>Dodge into a side street
>Write In

>>36504276
that is adorable

>>36504276
>>Dodge into a side street
>Speed up

>>36504276
>Speed up
Gotta go fast

>>36504295
indeed, it just needs a macaroni version of the MC scissoring the bike

>>36504309
>Not giving it an oil bath and then licking it clean while optimus prime masturbates in the bushes
Get on my level

well this anons got to sleep now, thanks for the thread HD

>>36504324
anon, that comes after the tender love making, and the rough fucking, we clean up and care for our bike post coital properly

>>36504276
>>Speed up

>>36504276
>Speed up

>>36504325
You're welcome.

Wish I had a better running time today.

>>36504113
Yeah, that's where I grabbed that image from. It's a fun show, if you like dark cyberpunk futures that are trying a bit too hard to be philosophically meaningful.

>>36504353
this time works perfectly for me

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>>36504276

You've already had to deal with one helicopter in the past few hours. This can't be the same one, though - that was a Plutonix chopper, and you're too deep into Vulnex's turf for them to still be after you.

Vulnex's perhaps, you think as you punch the accelerator up even farther. If they've taken control of those warehouses, they might be your buyer, and your announcement that you wanted a list of potential customers could provoke something like this.

Well, you've been wanting a race. Luckily, you're on a decent straightaway, with a fairly good surface. You can open it up without fearing that a single fractured chunk will send you flying.

For a while, there's a question. You're out ahead of the gray-daubed helicopter, even gaining distance. Then something happens, and it gets serious.

Maybe the pilot was just waiting for the go-ahead.

It's not a race you could have expected to win. The helicopter thunders overhead, beating the air like a titanic bird of prey. It's a pretty beefy cargo chopper, but even so, its max speed is a good bit higher than yours.

Then you see the hatch open.

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>>36504544

Someone jumps out.

Just jumps, from near-rooftop height.

From a helicopter.

And it's wearing what might once have been a suit, as it plummets toward the street.

This was supposed to be your day off. Dealing with another Asset wasn't in the plan. Well, at least the morning was fun, you think as you clench your legs tightly against your throbbing steel mount.

You're going to make it past the drop point, even pushing your machine, The helicopter was too damn fast for that. All you can do is watch.

About halfway down, you see the air blur around the Asset, St. Elmo's fire dancing around it as the descent slows.

Shoes hit the ground, and you see disheveled green hair, a mangled suit with a red-and-black checkered vest, and a glowing red eye, glaring straight at you.

Rebar writhes around in the street near his feet, the metal twisting like a living thing, fragmenting the concrete it should have held together.

"THEY CALL ME THE GARDENER," you hear echoing down the street at you, a bestial roar of challenge, loud even through your muffling helmet "BECAUSE I TAKE CARE OF THE SEEDS!"

This day just keeps getting better.

>GTFO
>Speed past him down one side of the street
>Light him up with the SMG
>Run him over
>Try to talk to him
>Write In

>>36504650

Oh, I'm gonna need d100s for this.

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>36504650
>GTFO
Surely he can't outrun our bike, we'll just have to take another detour

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>36504650
>>GTFO

Don't get anywhere near the dude if he can mes with metal.

Our bike is metal and even though we love it it obeys the laws of physics first, even if the dude fucks with them.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>36504650
>Speed past him down one side of the street
add a witty comment like
"then stay in the dirt"

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>36504650
>GTFO
Oh god it's fucking Yuuka

Fucking dodge to the side of the screen before she Master Sparks us out of nowhere jesus fuck

>>36504650
I second >>36504725

>>36504695
Nice

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>>36504650

Oh fuck.

You thought those were urban fucking legends.

You never believed those whispered stories about Plutnoix's pet wrecking ball, the fucking Gardener.

And now you're pretty fucking sure that most of them are one hundred fucking percent true. Especially the part about walking through walls.

Well, you're pretty sure that he made his own holes first.

Within seconds, the road around the screaming Asset turns into a crumbling chaos of concrete fragments and rebar twisting like angry vines.

Probably some sort of electromagnetic control aug. Or something crazier, but that's the only category you can deal with right now. He's just a big, aug'd-up Asset, and you've dealt with one of those before, you can't lose your cool now, hell his fucking glowing red eyes, and ripping the pavement without any -

You're racing away in the opposite direction even faster than your thoughts are tumbling over each other, body almost on autopilot.

If it was up to your mind, and not your instincutual fear, you'd probably be dead by now.

Or worse.

Your direction is AWAY FROM HIM and your speed is FUCKING FAST. Instincts tend to think in capital letters, much like your pursuer.

Oh yeah, he's still after you.

Pain lances through your sinuses, calling you back to your senses. It feels like someone's shoving a pin through them, slowly. A sadist's stab, not the professional push of a doctor's needle.

You take a look back and see the Gardener in hot pursuit, slingshotting himself from lamppost to lamppost, pulling himself along like a human railgun shot, rippling the pavement in passing as his magnetic fields distort its rebar.

And he's gaining.

>Focus on speed
>Focus on evasion
>Light him up with the SMG
>Hope really hard for a miracle
>Write In

Need d100s again.

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>36504961
>>Focus on speed

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>36504961
>Focus on evasion
>Light him up with the SMG

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>36504961
>Focus on speed
>Yell at him if we can all just talk this over
>Hope really hard for a miracle

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>36504961
>Focus on evasion
his speed will probably keep on growing

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>36504961
>Focus on evasion
>Hope really hard for a miracle

>>36505058
Ouch

>>36505058
>>36505074
Only takes the first three?

>>36505095
Hopefully, I can never keep track of which quest uses which dice system.

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So we are
>infected with a deadly nanoplague for which there is no know cure
>spreading said plague through another sector
>being pursued by the most powerful individual we've see yet because we're carrying the plague
>working on our day off

>>36505058
And just when it couldn't get any better, this happens.

>>36505095
I think HD takes all crits.

>>36505110
>infected with a deadly nanoplague for which there is no know cure
>spreading said plague through another sector
Not confirmed

>>36505110
Damnit I hope not, but I didn't keep track.

>>36505138
>>36505144
I'm making the assumption that's what the sinus pain is.

I could be wrong.

>>36505201
I'm hoping that that's just her being a hypochondriac.

>>36504961
>Light him up with the SMG

Lead isn't magnetic, right?

>>36505263
if lead isn't magnetic then how does magneto stop bullets?

>>36505314
>Marvel
>ever in charge of accurate science

>>36505263
Gold, gold is not magnetic. To beat this guy later on we will need an appropriate large handgun or rifle and a golden bullet. Try to get it blessed too.

>>36505344
Kinda troublesome to get our hands on a golden bullet. Who even manufactures those?

I'd imagine a molotov cocktail would be easier, if less of a certain kill. That said, being on fire would hopefully distract him enough for us to, for instance, spear him through the chest with a sharpened wooden pole from the back of our bike. And if that fails, looping piano wire around his neck and dragging him with it at high speed might possibly be a serviceable method of garroting him.

>>36505483
Fire worked on the last asset we killed

>>36505483
With someone like this, we want to stay as far away as possible

>>36505483
i'm pretty sure you'd need a press, possibly an antique one because nobody would manufacture them

and in that case might as well go with something cheaper and much more devastating like obsidian
(well, it probably won't be cheaper as it'd require a lot more work, but still)

>>36505523
But we'd need to make a diamond pickaxe to harvest the obsidian needed for the bullets!

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>>36504961

There's a powerful Plutonix Asset operating in the middle of Vulnex sector. That means someone jumped through a lot of hoops.

Some Plutonix exec thought there was a reason to jump through a lot of hoops.

You are in way over your head.

There was probably a time when you were floating on the surface, maybe even a time when you could see the dim glow of the sunlight playing on the water's surface. If those times ever existed, they feel like a week ago, and any light you see now is attached to an anglerfish.

The scream of tortured metal and grinding concrete follows you down the street, echoing back an forth between the facing buildings. An even louder yell rides atop it.

"YOU'RE SOWING THE SEEDS!" the Gardener roars, as he flies ever-faster through the air, "YOU'VE PROBABLY SWALLOWED THEM! EVEN THE GODDESS HAD TO STAY IN THE GARDEN AFTER SHE SWALLOWED THEM!"

You glance back at him in your rearview mirror, one hand reaching into your jacket for the comforting hardness of the SMG. The piercing pain in your sinuses tries to distract you, but you push past it, concentrating on the weapon, visualizing the shot.

"Always plan it," a voice says in your head, the advice of an old bald man who taught you how to shoot, "a man with a plan and a string is better than a man with all the guns in the world and no plan. If you can't see the kill in your mind, you can't make it clean."

He'd been grouchy about teaching you anything more than strangling with a tough wire, denigrating most guns as noisy and inefficient. Firing on fully automatic would have been a sin in his book.

Of course, you can remember him dying in the aftermath of a barfight. He was too slow on the block, and took one where it hurt, and then another, and then...

So much for being a man with a plan. So much for not needing anything more than a string.

>>36505523
We want to kill him right now. At most, we're going to be able to duck into an abandoned building and be forced to make do with what we have to hand. We're not going to be able to source for golden bullets or giant chunks of obsidian or what have you.

>>36505513
True. But while killing him from range has less risk, it is also harder. How good a shot do you think we are with a bow?

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>>36505541
>>So much for being a man with a plan. So much for not needing anything more than a string.

Couldn't he just magnetize the motorcycle?

>>36505602
I thinking it's ether he can't or he needs to get closer.

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>>36505541
>He was too slow on the block, and took one where it hurt, and then another, and then...
>QTE melee in Absolution

I really fucking love how you do this quest HD!

>>36505541
Damn, we're a plaguebearer right now. We need to find a forge or something with similarly high temperatures to dump this bag in to get rid of nanites. Then we need treatment.

Or we find some high profile place and stop there. We openly surrneder and honestly state we had no idea what we had. We know we did damage to alot of people uninvolved and we were set up. We need to get rid of the bag and get treatment. By openly surrendering we wish to prevent further infection. Also state that we have ingo on who cause all of this and would like to get revenge

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>>36505541

You blink a few hot tears aside and whip out the SMG. The Gardener is speeding along behind you, not even trying to hide. Confident. Predatory.

Fuck him.

Your finger stabs down on the trigger. A string of bullets screams down the street.

The shots are wide, but he does back off a bit. Looks like even he fears bullets, you think, licking your lips. There's a salt taste, blood from your nose perhaps, or a stray tear.

If even top-class Assets can die in shitty bar brawls, you can plant the gardening fucker in the dirt where he belongs.

You hold down the trigger, forcing him back as you slew around a corner into a narrow alleyway. Cobblestones again - they jar you with every spin of your wheels, as you race down the dark passage.

There's an explosion behind you, dust billows past you, half a brick slams into the small of your back. A quick flicker of your eyes to your mirror shows that Gardener has smashed his way right through the corner of a building to come after you. You can hear the structure groaning. A pile of bricks, metal structural members, and fuck, that's probably a severed arm, have spilled out into the alley.

You look ahead again and see a kid, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the alley. Dusty gray clothes - must be why you missed it earlier. An innocent little pile of curiosity and horror.

There's no room to go around, nothing to ramp off of, just the pain in your back, in your head, and the roar of the Gardener behind you.

>What do you do?

>>36505751
we still have a delivery to make, we'll bitch at the receptionist

>>36505760
>What do you do?
grab kid and improvise?

>>36505760
god fucking dammit.
>Drive past the kid
If we can't do that >Grab the kid
If we can't do that either >stop and unload on the assest.

>>36505760
Is there enough room to swerve around to grab him?
If not then
>Stop

>>36505760
Dump the package, we aren't getting paid enough for this.

Other than that, I don't think we can do anything besides what the gardener wants us to, he won't give a shit about the kid if we try to take a hostage.

>>36505813
This Delivery is a fucking setup, it was never meant to be delivered, it was meant to spread this horrific disease to as many people as possible. We have to get rid of it as safe as possible immediately.

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>>36505760
>What do you do

Run the kid over.

Between the nanoplague and the Gardener, the kid doesn't have a hope in hell. I can't see that we'd be making it that much worse.

>>36505760
>What do you do?
Stop, tell the kid to run, unload on the Asset

>>36505866
are you thinking of that one troll post?

>>36505760
>roll a 1
>1 sadistic choice

So instead of us just failing miserably, you're throwing a horrible complication at us?

Someone plays Dungeon World.

>>36505888
No, I mean this situation as a whole. We got infected with something from this package. We got a phone call from someone who killed our last broke who said they were emulating the rooten cows and trebuchets of old with packages and couriers. We are speading a nanite disease and we have to dispose of this package as soon as possible

>>36505950
yeah that was a troll post, not one by HD.

>>36505950
Several of those things were from the troll post

>>36505966
>implying it wasn't HD trolling us with the trip off

I'm not sure how much of that post isn't actually the truth. A lot of it makes sense.

>>36505950
>We got infected with something from this package.
We don't know that yet.

Just give me a ride, just head over to Sadies, have a few laughs.

>>36505760
>nothing to ramp off of
Uhh hello? what happened to that kid that was there?

>>36506172
i'm no kid specialist, but i highly doubt they can be used like that

>>36505966
>>36505975
The thing is, what the gardener says also fits into that too.

>>36506207
Have you tried it before?

>>36506207
The Gardener is obviously off his rocker.

He speaks in ALLCAPS for crying out loud, and he's said something about a goddess.

>>36506220
that was supposed to be linked to >>36506197

>>36506236
i can't read a bike to save my life buut i tried with a monstertruck and...

>>36506252
well that's your problem! You need 2 kids for a monster truck. one for each side. with a motor cycle we should only need 1.

>>36506329
FUCK i knew i forgot something

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>>36505760

"Hey kid," you yell at the shocked youngster, "want a ride?"

You wouldn't have believed it was possible for the kid's eyes to get any wider. But they do, and a smile quirks on the small, grimy face. "Oh yeah!"

Kids. Can't beat 'em.

Riding as close to the wall as you dare, pants scraping the brick, you lean down with one arm to pick the kid up. Slight build, pink hair done into twintails. Mischievous expression anchored by bright blue eyes.

"Are we going on an adventure?" the kid asks, swinging into position behind you with more grace than you'd anticipated. You can barely hear the words over the Gardener's roar.

The stabbing pain in the front of your head makes it hard to think up a snappy response. Barreling down the narrow passageway is about all you can do for the moment. Every cobblestone jolt just makes the pain grow.

>What do you say?
>Say nothing, shoot at the Gardener

>>36506693
"Just until I can drop you off somewhere safe"

>META POST

There's an interruption - I probably won't be back for an hour or so.

Hope you're enjoying the thread.

>>36506693
"Pretty much!"
>Call paul again
>tell him whats up and then ask the Vulnex stooges listening in for assistance

>>36506693
"Hey kid, know how to use one of these?"

This is the gritty cyberpunk future, after all.

>>36506735
seconding

>>36506693
>What do you say?
can you shoot the bad guy behind us? he's trying to kill the fun.
and us.

>>36506764
>>36506693
This, get on the phone and start talking to people, we aren't getting paid enough.

>>36506764
I support this, we are in something we have no right in

Any good ideas for dealing with the Asset?

I just had a thought... What if the kid is another Asset? I mean, pink hair, small body, more grace than we expected, especially when we are going at fuck all speeds...

Maybe ask the kid to peak into the bag? Or ask for his name? We could have him be a spotter for the Gardener while we focus on driving.

>>36507992
>Maybe ask the kid to peak into the bag?
This is a horrible idea. Especially if she's an Asset.

>>36507903
He backed off a bit from the bullets earlier.

As someone pointed out earlier, he shouldn't be able to mess with lead bullets.

This is going to sound stupid, but shooting at him in this restrained place where he has no hope of dodging might be our best bet.

>>36508079
I child as an assest? no.
A small person assest made to look like a child? Okay, i'd buy it.

>>36508293
Shooting him until he stops moving or punches a whole in our chest, whichever comes first, isn't the worst idea ever.

>>36508434
At least we don't have augments for him to rip out.

>>36508404
eh, you never know what they can grow in these vats...

>>36508463
If we ask nicely, maybe he'll leave us to be killed by the nanos?

>>36508518
Think I'd prefer he just killed us if it came to that.Dying by nanos sounds very painful.

we don't know for sure that he have nanos!

>>36508767
We know at least one corp has a cure of sorts. Worth a shot.

>>36508987
we are being chased by their assest. also no cure once you are infected.

Call me a pessimist but I can only see this ending with our death or so fucked up we might as well be. We are way in over our head here.

>>36509021
We know a corp managed to clear out the nanos of a city section some years ago. If we got nanos I don't see the harm in seeking them out. We're dead anyways, so it's not like we've got anything to lose.

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>>36506693

"Hey kid," you say, moving the SMG to draw attention to it, "know how to use one of these?"

Another bunch of agonizing bumps send stabs of pain through your head, as you feel the kid squirm against your back, trying to get a better look at the gun. It's all you can do to keep the motorcycle pointed in the right direction, with the distracting pain and the wild bounces.

"Yeah," you hear from over your shoulder, "I think so."

It's not as solid as you'd like, but you sure can't be picky right now. The handoff goes well, or at least as well as handing afully-automatic weapon to a kid will ever go. Getting both hands back on the handlebars feels good, even with the nail pounding through your face.

You're not sure you can deny it anymore. There's definitely something sharp lodged up there, and it's growing. You're starting to feel pinpricks in other places too, half-masked by the stiff old bruises and the newly smarting impact of the half brick.

Hell, have you signed the kid's death warrant by pulling them onto this cursed bike? Would running the kid over have been a kinder end than the slow impaling the nanoplague promises?

>>36509112

"You got a name, kid?" you ask, it's the least you can do, and catch a glimpse of the old bald Asset's face again. That's what he said to you, all those years ago, wasn't it?

"Phillip," he says, and you feel his small frame tense, one arm wrapping around you like a vise. You grunt, more in pain than acknowledgement, as automatic fire chatters behind you, "yeah," he continues jubilantly, "I got this!"

You hear a roar behind you. Pain?

Fuck, you hope so.

This isn't anything like what you bargained for. You're hopelessly turned around, with a locator that won't update in this info blizzard, and every bump in this alley is sending pain rocketing along your frayed nerves.

You hate to admit you can't face this on your own, but you've got to call someone, even if everything's being monitored.

>Call Paul
>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in
>Call Thomson's phone - Plutonix corp cops have it by now, and it's your best shot at getting anyone to call Gardener off
>Call Eliza - she fucking owes you
>Write In

>>36509162
>>Call Thomson's phone - Plutonix corp cops have it by now, and it's your best shot at getting anyone to call Gardener off

>>36509162
>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162
>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162
>>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162
>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162
>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162
>Ditch the bag, ride off into the sunset, and lie low for like a month.

Question: are we on the biker cop's terf? The one we've become semi-friends with. If so, maybe call him, see if we can get him (and by proxy, his company and our probable employer) out here for help.

Otherwise, call Thomson's phone and try to talk to whichever Plutonix corp thug to get this Gardener asshole off our ass.

>>36509354
We potentially paint a target on the heads of anyone we call. I think we should exert utmost caution with who we drag into this.

>>36509317
>lie low
more like lie dead
i'm not sure if we got contaminated or are just having an hypochondriac phase, but we should really get checked soon

wait so the little kid is a boy? I thought it was a girl.

>>36509567
>Slight build, pink hair done into twintails. Mischievous expression anchored by bright blue eyes.
So did I

>>36509162
>>Call an empty line - reach out directly to whoever's listening in

>>36509162

"Keep him busy," you tell Phillip, "I've got a call I need to make."

"Alright," he says, and rattles off another burst at the Gardener. You can't see his face, but you're sure the kid's grinning.

Well, if he finds half the joy in guns you found in motorcycles, he's set, you think as you adjust yourself in the seat. Seems like nothing you can do on the black cushion is going to be comfortable at this point. There's a reason you were taking today off.

Several reasons. All of them stiff and painful.

And then there are those pinpricks, some in your mouth, a few in your gullet, lungs, and a couple in the pit of your stomach. The throbbing nail in your sinuses doesn't seem to be getting larger, but it's still lodged there.

You yell a warning to the kid before turning sharply into another dark alley. You might not have a working locator, but you've got decent dead reckoning.

It takes you some time to work through the process of opening a phone connection without dialing a particular contact. That isn't something done much these days, and done even less from the back of a motorcycle bouncing along in the narrow space between buildings.

You can feel the kid's weight shifting as he switches magazines, then Gardener shears through the corner after you, ripping apart the building's metal skeleton, rubble bouncing off the opposite wall of the alley.

"Biohazard to anyone listening," you say into the silent, slightly crackling connection. Static bursts over the line as Gardener rights himself and begins charging down the alley after you.

Once that's over, you feel like the quality of the silence on the other end is different, perhaps expectant.

>What do you say?

>>36510315
"I need to talk to whoever's in charge."

>>36510315
I've got nothing, we're in sooooo deep shit.

>>36510315
"I could use some directions here, Also I have the gardener on my back so where ever you need this thing delivered, be ready for him. Also how's that arm?"

>>36510315
"Can you stop snowing my locator? I'm never going to get anywhere without a working map."

>>36510438
>>36510315
I also like this one.

>>36510417
>how's that arm?

I'm not sure I get this.

>>36510315
Hey, I want to make a deal with you. What do you want for the seeds? (We gotta get rid of this shit. Also, what do we do with the kid after all this is done? Get ourselves a protégé?)

>>36510315
"If I survive this you're going to owe me soooooooo much money."

>>36510534
>protege

I love how our pattern for relating to kids is based on some bald washed-up ex-Asset killer who died in a bar brawl.

>>36510417
>>36510438
>>36510534
We've already got a drop-off point we could take the package to.

So I miss a few threads and now we're apparently dead but haven't realized it because of these seeds shit thats meant to be sealed in whatever we're carrying?

What the fuck HD?

Goddamnit I liked this quest.

>>36510315
"Stop snowing my locator so I can try and figure out where the fuck I'm going. Or better yet, have it tell me where to go. Oh, and I've got some company, hope you can deal with a crazy Gardener on my tail."

>>36510657
Maybe his dog is dying, like GS.

I still like it. The stakes have been escalating pretty steadily.

>>36510707
I really liked this quest and was loving the way things were going before this job, but now apparently we're going to die and have no say in the matter at all. That's just shit.

>>36510657
We don't know if we're dead yet.

>>36510707
>Maybe his dog is dying, like GS.
Protip: that's the quickest and easiest way to kill off your playerbase.

>>36510762
Except for him stating it every 3 fucking words.

>>36510751
I don't think Haiku will kill us off for real. Even if he does, he will probably give us a way out, like in Rock Quest.

>>36510776
>Except for him stating it every 3 fucking words.
Playing up the paranoia.

>>36510776
And you have resigned yourself to die. Fight, anon. Fight until your last breath. Fight on afterwards.

>>36510751
We probably screwed ourselves when we took a package from a digsite that we'd heard was infested with this shit.

From a client who was falling-down drunk.

>>36510657
i'm pretty sure there's a cure
and that it will be expensive enough to make us work harder than ever to pay off the debts

>>36510818
a sealed and safe package that we picked up in a manner that did not in any way expose us at all.

>>36510529
we're going to the base where we pulled the old guy from the trash bags of dolphin guts. we took down a guy and fuck up his arm. I'd like to imagine he's the one watching out call.

>>36510707
Fuck you. Fuck you for making me remember that. fuck you, and fuck the cancer killing dogs that is gs. Jimmy's rustled and ass blasted

>>36510850
I fucking hope so.

>>36510850
> and that it will be expensive enough to make us work harder than ever to pay off the debts
Sell our soul to a corp?

>>36510850
Since Plutonix was digging it up they probably had figured out a cure. But we're delivering it to their competitors, who probably do not.

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>>36510877
>duffle bag
>secure
>safe

Maybe it was safe for the guy in the exoskeleton.

>>36510948
the thing inside the dufflebag is locked and sealed anon

>>36510315

"I need to talk to whoever's in charge," you say, wincing as Phillip grabs you in just the wrong way.

No dice.

Figures that they wouldn't answer. That'd give the game away to anyone listening in.

"Look," you start civilly, and then it's all just too much, "could you at least stop snowing my fucking locator? I'd like to actually get somewhere beside an early fucking grave today," and then you're almost screaming, "distractions would be nice too, anything to get the Gardener off my back."

No reaction.

Not that you expected one, but manna falling from the sky would have been nice. Then the little dot of light comes alive on your map, blinking in your peripheral vision. Your locator isn't being snowed anymore, and you know right where you are.

"Alright," you say, breathing a sigh of relief, "but if I survive this, you're still going to owe me so much money."

You cut the connection, but not fast enough to hear something in the static that sounds suspiciously like "if you survive this."

It's probably just your nerves, though. Besides, you can barely hear anything clearly over the roar of your bike's engine and the report of the SMG. Hearing isn't too reliable right now.

Sight, well, that's a different story.

You can see what's left of the reddish daylight, filtered through the ever-present clouds, glowing at the end of the alley. You can see the street beyond, another wide hauler-friendly road. You can see the Gardener rocketing after you, more cautious now, wary of Phillip's fire. You can see the furiously flashing light on your live map, showing how close you are to the warehouse compound.

Damn, it's only a couple of blocks.

There might be hope left.

>Mad dash for the compound
>Lay in wait for his inevitable high-impact corner-cutting routine

1d100, please

You may also choose to

>Hope for a miracle

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>36510991
>>Mad dash for the compound

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>36510991
>>Mad dash for the compound

>>36510991
And, of course, the corresponding

>Don't hope for a miracle - You'll do it on your own

>>36511014
Wow, not too shabby for my first roll in this quest, thanks dice gods.

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>36510991
>>Mad dash for the compound

>>36511046
That was me.

>>36510991
>>Mad dash for the compound

>>36510991
>>Mad dash for the compound
>Hope for a miracle
(not the first time we have relied on luck)

>>36510991
>Mad dash for the compound
Sure hope they've got a lot of guns waiting

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>36510991
>Mad dash for the compound
>Hope for a miracle

Mad dash
Also nice.97

>>36511014
I'll do this miracle on my own.

>>36511066
>hope they've got a lot of guns

I think having a client actually help us would be a 'miracle'.

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>36510991
>Mad dash for the compound
>Don't hope for a miracle - You'll do it on your own

>>36511054
Oops, lol, I was the one underneath, :(

>>36511136
You must be new here. Round these parts we don't say "lol" or use emotes.

>>36511136
>:(
Your new is showing

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>>36511136
Don't use emoteicons on an imageboard

Rolled 18 (1d100)

If we know that the Gardener is gonna try and do another corner-cutting maneuver (by plowing right though the building) can we tell the kid to expect it, and the first clear sight he gets of the Gardener after doing so, to light him up like a Christmas tree?

Also,

> Mad dash for the compound
> Don't hope for a miracle - we make one ourselves

>>36511233
>have the kid light him up

I think that's what 'lay in wait...' was going for.

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>36510991
>Lay in wait for his inevitable high-impact corner-cutting routine

Let's try to get another asset kill to our name.

>Hope for a miracle

If we survive this we are never giving someone 'Just a ride' ever again, christ.

>>36510991
>Mad dash for the compound

>>36511482
If we survive this we're never taking a job that involves strange unknown things from anyone who we don't trust implicitly again.

>>36511521
Yeah fuck Thompson, who passes out drunk during an operation.

>>36511521
Isn't that a good description of all our jobs?

>>36511546
>who passes out drunk during an operation

Someone trying to give himself an alibi during a smash and grab on the local megacorp's stuff.

>>36511546
a man who wants an alibi

>>36511546
Somebody smart enough to have plausible deniability.

>>36511567
I'd argue no. There's a level of acceptability I'd assume we usually run with. Pick up at point A, drive to point B, sure that's the basics.

But an object that we literally just told a guy about, got pulled out by a wetwork squad actively attacking cops and rumored to be stuffed with nanites that everybody has a massive hard on for one way or the other?

I really wish we would've just noped the fuck out of there, but hindsight is 20/20

>>36511611
Live and learn.

But first we need to manage the first part of that.

I remember the 'Take it'/'Fuck no' choice was unanimous for 'Take it'.

If only we'd known that 'in the ass' was the second part of that option.

We need 20/20 hineysight.

>>36511657
Very true.

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>>36511691
I'm glad we did this.

>>36511691
It was like a choice between an interesting plot or running around looking for a new place to stay. I'll stay clear of thinking in this view next time.

If there is a next time.

>>36511691
I believe our courier has the hiney bit well covered already.

>>36511764
>implying running for new cover wouldn't have been interesting

It might have got us out of this Plutonix/Vulnex circuit.

I want to see the rest of Juptek and Nepcor sectors.

>>36510991

"Hold tight, kid," you tell Phillip, and push the engine just a little farther. You can probably keep it on track until the end of the alleyway. Probably.

He squeezes you even tighter, and you try to stifle another grunt of pain as his arm clenches over a particularly painful bruise. "Sure," he tells you, with the matter-of-fact tone only a kid or a seasoned veteran has during stuff like this.

Pure acceptance.

"He's gonna come through the corner again," you say, jerking your head toward Gardener for the kid's benefit, "be ready for him."

"Sure thing," he says, and you can feel him swap for a full mag. The little shifts of his small weight against you hurt some, sure, but there's something comforting about it. Like you're doing what you're supposed to be doing.

Like this is how your life was supposed to go, a kid riding behind you.

You're pretty sure that the pursuing lunatic Asset wasn't part of the cozy vision your repressed maternal instincts are ginning up for you, and you tell yourself there's no time to be thinking about this.

But at least it distracts you from the needles jabbing into you, and the nail piercing through your face. You twist your hand on the handlebar, the friction through your glove reassuringly familiar as the bike leaps through the alley opening, shooting out from its brick prison.

So we're going to the warehouse. Anyone want to take bets that merc chick will be there?

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>>36512009

You've got plenty of room for the wide turn your speed necessitates, and it's wonderful to be on the open road again. Leaning into the curve feels great, as the familiar sensation dulls everything else by just that much, and the smooth concrete rushes by under your wheels.

It's heaven after the cobblestones.

Then you pull out of the turn and stabilize, somewhere in the middle of the roadway.

It gave Gardener just enough time to smash through the corner, but Phillip's ready for him this time. The boy fires one, two, three short bursts, gun rattling and shell casings scattering on the roadway. You can feel him leaning his tense little body against yours to steady his aim.

Then the tension slackens, and you hear a whoop of boyish triumph.

"I lit him up!" the kid says, as he puts his other arm around you. He's pressing the hard, boxy SMG up against your back, but you're not complaining.

You can see the Gardener trying to pick himself up off the ground, on hand clutched to a bleeding wound on his forehead. There's some blood on his shirt too, but you can't tell whether that's just an overflow from the head. Those things bleed like crazy.

He seems to be having an issue with his knee too.

But those red eyes? They're in perfect working order.

Well, you'll take glaring over a chase like that any day.

"Yeah," you say, turning back to the road ahead with a shiver, "you did good, kid."

>>36512151
Real good

>>36512151

Full throttle eats up the handful of blocks between you and the warehouse compound, old brick tenements and idle factories flashing past on either side. Phillip's sticking his head out to one side, and you're pretty sure the wind has torn the twintails right out of his hair.

Probably a good thing, too. What possessed the boy to do up his hair like that, anyway? You could have sworn he was a girl earlier.

Soon, but not soon enough, the tall fence of the warehouse compound looms up through the gathering twilight. The gate is open, and you sweep in, slackening your speed just enough to not lose control.

Three big windowless steel buildings. Signs of heavy use, but no users. Long concrete expanses without even a forklift or a hauler to be seen. This place was creepy enough the first time you came, but now you know what's under it.

Oh yes, it looks like you've got an underground delivery to make.

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>>36512473

They haven't even bothered to fix the doors after your motorcycle showed them who's boss, and your donut tracks are still there on the floor. You wonder idly if the dead security guard is still rotting up in his little booth, as you coast to a stop on the shiny floor.

Lights on, but nobody home, as usual. Then you hear the hissing of hydraulic rams and clanking of a large mechanism.

They're going to make you wait while they open the hidden entrance? Really?

You just want to make the damn delivery and get this over with.

But will it even be over then?

In answer, the pain in your head surges back as the exhilaration of speed fades. You remember the needles growing, piercing, stabbing throughout your body. Remembering to forget about remembering your aches and pains would be such a useful skill.

Unfortunately, it's not one you have.

And you've dragged the kid into it too.

Damn.

>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure
>The faster you make the drop, the faster you can go looking for treatment for the untreatable
>Tell the kid to get going - you've involved him too much already
>Write In

>>36512495
>>Tell the kid to get going - you've involved him too much already

>>36512495
>Tell the kid to get going - you've involved him too much already

>>36512495
>>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure for you and Phil

>>36512495
>Tell the kid to get going - you've involved him too much already
>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure

>>36512495
>The faster you make the drop, the faster you can go looking for treatment for the untreatable

>>36512495
>>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure

>>36512510
>>36512514
>>36512546
He's been riding back there with the duffle bag, though. He's probably infected by now.

And he killed an Asset for us, too.

We can't just send him off to die.

>>36512593
Exactly
Phil is pretty bro, for someone who dresses like a little girl.

>>36512593
Yeah, ok. Remove:
>Tell the kid to get going - you've involved him too much already
from >>36512546

>>36512495

>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure

I'm hoping whoever wants this package has some kind of precautions set up in case of Seed infection that we can use.

>>36512688
precautions probably won't do jack shit when you are already infected.

More delay. Hopefully under an hour.

>>36512726

Well, as far as we know, there's no common treatment options, so it's hope for that, or accept that HD has killed us with little to no warning.

>>36512825
Well I suppose if its the latter its a realistic interpretation of an all natural girl that got way in over her head.

>>36512825
If this job kills us we must make sure we come back to haunt that alcohol-loving info broker. This mess is all his fault.

>>36512495
>>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure

Now that I think of it, I doubt they'd let an infected person just walk out into the sector after the delivery is done.

>>36512922
Cyberpunk Motorcycle Ghost Quest coming up.

>>36512919
Oh, I agree entirely. Actions having real consequences makes a good quest great, even when it hurts. I watched this arc unfold with a growing sinking feeling as soon as Seeds were introduced. I'm just gonna be sad cause this is my favorite quest in a long time.

(And I just found this quest and read through the archives this morning, so it's like having a toy taken away before you even get to play with it.)

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>>36513090

>>36513179
Perfect.

>>36512991
>we do the delivery
>client gives some bullshit about containing the infection
>they cap the kid
>they cap us
>HD gives us a set of 'you are a ______' prompts

I can't see it ending any other way.

>>36514018
you know if it does end that way, I don't think I'd be mad. Sad but not mad, except for maybe at myself for making the wrong choices.

>>36514053
Pretty much, I think 2 threads of dread and hopelessness made us 'ease' into acceptance of that fate.

>>36514090
nah, more because it seems like a natural thing to happen and not shoe horned in by some Dick cheese who wanted to hurt his players because he was sad his dog died.

>Paul (info broker's assistant)
>James (Nepcor cop)
>Phillip (kid)
>Thomson (info broker)

These names have something in common, and it's bugging me.

>>36512495
>You can't just deliver the goods and leave - you're going to need a cure

>>36512495

"What's that noise?" Phil asks, his grip loosening as the motorcycle coasts to a stop. You can smell a faint chemical tang to the air, perhaps disinfectants from the room below.

"There's a secret passageway," you tell him, revving your bike impatiently, "down to a secret lab, in a secret underground lair."

"It sounds pretty secret," the kid says, letting go of you and getting off the bike, "I'm going to go look around!"

You watch him run off, speeding in dizzying circles across the polished floor, his light footsteps echoing up to the steel girders of the roof. Probably the biggest open space the poor kid's ever seen, you think. The city's pretty claustrophobic when you get right down to it. Your reaction to the open area wasn't much different than his, and you aren't some alley brat.

Come to think of it, you don't know if he's an alley brat or if he has some sort of family. Family that would miss him, you think, watching him run and jump happily around. Family you'd have to explain his sudden disappearance to.

Family he could infect.

Yeah, you can't just drop the bag and leave. You need a cure for yourself and the kid. A cure for the uncurable, you think as the secret entrance locks open.

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>>36514561

Phillip, of course, is standing on the upper lip of it, looking down at the road below him. You feel an urge to yell that he could fall, but the kid's probably infected with the nanoplague. Let him have his fun.

You do draw the line at letting him leap onto your bike from above as you drive into the spiral, though, no matter how emphatic his gestures. That's just dumb, and it might damage your suspension.

"Get on, kid," you tell him, bike solidly parked. The cushion's beginning to dig into you, but moving would be even more painful right now.

He jumps down from the lip onto the road, absorbing the shock with his knees. As he runs toward you after bouncing back up, you wonder if he could trace his lineage back to a rubber ball.

"So they're letting us into the secret lab, in the secret base, under the secret entrance?" he asks while jumping back onto the bike, far too innocently for a kid who shot an Asset less than five minutes ago.

"Yeah," you say, pushing off and feeling him snake his thin arms around you, "looks like it, kid."

You never wanted to come back here, but you start down the concrete spiral, tinted orange by the glow of the sodium lamps, you feel good about it. Despite the pounding in your head and the tortorous needles transfixing you, all jolted into new life by the motion of the bike and the boy behind you, you've got a good feeling about this.

Because this is point B, and it's going to end here, one way or another.

>Stay silent
>Ask Phillip about his family
>Ask Phillip if he's part of Davey's little gang of spies
>Ask Phillip about Write In
>Dispense the Wisdom of Age to Phillip
>Write In

>>36514587

Huh, dropped the trip there.

>>36514587
>Ask Phillip about Write In "So Phil, how long have you been an asset?"

>>36514587
>>Dispense the Wisdom of Age to Phillip
"Son, when I was young..."

>>36514587
>>Ask Phillip if he's part of Davey's little gang of spies

>>36514587
>>Ask Phillip if he's part of Davey's little gang of spies

>>36514587
>Dispense the Wisdom of Age to Phillip

>>36514618
>>36514642
So, what is the Wisdom of Age?

>>36514587
>Ask Phillip if he's part of Davey's little gang of spies

>>36514656
Don't ever give up your day off.

>>36514587
Hey kid, if you ever decide to become a courier, don't accept packages that have anything to do with biohazards.

>>36514665
This

>>36514656
Everything there is to know about motorcycles

>>36514656
Never accept a job from a man who drinks straight moonshine to wake up every day

>>36514656
What women want in a man.

>>36514656
Always find at least one thing to trust. (in our case our bike)

God dammit, all of you guys are making me feel like i'm just being paranoid about this kid

>>36514656
When you run a courier service, never accept a duffel bag.

>>36514656>>36514665
>>36514677
>>36514708
>>36514717
>>36514734
ramble about everything because we are really nervous.

>>36514744
Why do you suspect him?

>>36514842
Well, he was quite good with the SMG...

>>36514842
kid nows how to work an smg, he took out an asset, he just so happened to be out and about in our path during a boihazard alert. he jumped from a high place

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>>36515083
>during a boihazard

>>36514656
"One day you'll come across your very own motorcycle, and you'll know its your soul mate, on that day, you saddle that bike, you ride the shit out of it, and you put a ring on it."

>>36514656
>Always plan it - a man with a plan and a string is better than a man with all the guns in the world and no plan. If you can't see the kill in your mind, you can't make it clean.

>>36515370
this, but only if we stumble through it awkwardly (we ae new to this mentor thing)

>>36514587

"So," you start off, as you take the spiral at a comfortable pace, "are you one of the kids Davey has spying for him?"

"Davey?" Phillip asks, betraying his tactical espionage training, "oh, that old guy Paul works for. Yeah, I'm one of Paul's guys, when I've got nothing better going on."

"Nothing better?" you ask, slightly curious as the orange lights drift past, each painting another shadow of your motorcycle on the curving road.

"Well," he says, stuck between evasion and pride, as you squirm to get comfortable on the seat, and awaken another dozen pinpricks, "I run messages and things. When the power's out, or all the lines are clogged, or it's a secret."

You smile inside your helmet at that. What secrets would someone trust this kid with? But it does clear some things up. "So that's why you were out during the biohazard," you say, "someone needed a message to get through during the info blizzard."

"Info blizzard?" the kid asks, "oh, when everything went down."

Yeah, when everything went down.

Everything's still going down.

"Kid," you say, "so you're basically a courier. Well, there's a lot of advice I could give you," you say, as various bits and pieces of phrases rattle through your head, "but the most important thing is to never give up your day off."

"Why?" Phillip asks, almost bouncing around in the seat as you round the final turn, jarring you painfully in his excitement, "what happens if you do?"

"This happens," you say with finality, braking to a stop at the end of the line, and gesturing at what should have been the entrance to the lab.

File: Container Lab.png (503 KB, 600x400)

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>>36515486

You remember when a crazy merc tried to block your way through here with a big van. Well, if they'd seen this job, they would have turned green with envy.

Metal sheets, maybe even slabs - you have no idea how thick they are, have been welded together to form a wall across the bottom of the spiral road, completely sealing it off. It looks like they're sealed to the concrete with gobs of molten metal, cooled in place. Probably airtight.

Dead in the center of the new wall, a dim cave yawns. On closer inspection, accomplished by wheeling the motorcycle a few meters forward, it turns out to be the open end of a shipping container.

Suddenly, the lights inside click on, and you see counterspace, a big, clear cabinet, some strange-looking scientific instruments, and, oddest of all, a cleared space with cargo straps threaded through loops welded to the floor.

The straps look like they were placed to tie down a motorcycle.

"Looks pretty small for a secret lab," Phil says from behind you as he hops off the motorcycle.

"It's a portable secret lab," a scratchy voice says from inside. It sounds like it's playing from a cheap, tinny speaker, and the vocalist hasn't slept for three weeks, "I didn't realize you'd be bringing a friend, Ms. Hocking."

You're not exactly sure how to respond, but the voice spares you the trouble: "Not that it matters. Just get on in and make the delivery. Bring the kid, too. We'll handle decon when you're finished."

>Ask questions (Write In)
>Dr. Morrison, I presume?
>I can't wait
>Write In

>>36515715
>>Dr. Morrison, I presume?

>>36515715
>>Dr. Morrison, I presume?
>I can't wait

>>36515715
>I can't wait
>Decontamination? You mean you can get rid of the seed?

>>36515715
>>Dr. Morrison, I presume?
>>I can't wait

>>36515715
>Dr. Morrison, I presume?
also this>>36515763

>>36515715
>>36515763
this, give him all the info we can recall on the package and any side affects we think we might be feeling

we need to get cured asap

>>36515763
In a sense.

*BLAM!*

>>36515809
kek

I have a bad feeling that...

...they will substract the decon job from our fee.

>>36515908
Yeah fuck that we should just die, that'll stick it to them.

>>36515908
Hey, if we get out of it alive and with our Bike intact, I'll be happy.

After all the shit this job has been, they better give us one hell of a payday.

>>36515968
No need to be petty and retarded anon.

>>36516001
>No need to be petty and retarded anon.

I was joking mang.

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>>36515715

"Dr. Morrison, I presume?" you say levelly, although 'decon' has given you a fresh injection of hope.

Controlling the emotion in your voice is easy when every sentence comes out as a pained half-gasp. You're a chunk of meat stabbed through with nails, ripping and tearing at you every move you make.

Dismounting from your motorcycle is probably the hardest thing you've ever done.

And then, wheeling your motorcycle into the container is the hardest thing you've ever done.

"I can neither confirm nor," the doctor begins, in that same tired, stretched-too-thin voice, "play fucking games here. Make your delivery, then we'll see to your condition."

Every step, every shift of your weight, every movement is fresh agony, each worse than the last. Your breath is ragged, and you cough wetly, spattering blood on your sleeve.

"Are you okay?" Phillip asks. You have to make an effort to look at him. It hurts, and the concern and fear written on his young face is a brutal follow up punch.

"I've been better, kid," you tell him, slumping down over the comforting bulk of your motorcycle, "help me tie down the bike."

Help, ha. His nimble fingers do most of the work, threading and cinching straps with ease, bending over and winding them through your bike's wheels. You can barely undo the straps holding the duffle bag on the bike.

Then you see it. You only notice while you're bent over, trying to loosen a strap with a minimum of movement. A few small, pointed shards on dead black carbon jutting up from the leather seat covering.

That's what beings the tears. The damn things have your bike, too.

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>>36516672
Mfw The damn things have your bike, too.

File: SAN check.gif (1.67 MB, 250x142)

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>>36516672
>mfw they shot our bike

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>>36516672

>>36516861
This is actually similar to the picture I have in my head of what the seed is doing to us.

>>36516861
>>36516945
Geezus, the Plutonix miners are metal as fuck.

>>36516672

We estimated," the doctor says, in a voice that might have sounded sympathetic to someone in better circumstances, "a reasonable risk that the package would be contaminated. The cost-benefit analysis was favorable."

You're too tired, and everything hurts too much, to fucking care. You grab the duffle bag in a haze, and sling it into the clear cabinet while Phillip holds the door open for you. Honestly, you're a bit surprised you managed to carry it at all.

You collapse forward, hands balled into fists on the counter, holding yourself up by an act of will as the fucking shards tear into you. On eye sees red. Probably blood flowing into it from the nail poking from your face.

At some point, the outer doors to the shipping container close, but who gives a fuck. It's not like you'd be able to walk out of them anyway. The insides are painted a sterile white, and thick seals, made from multiple layers of heavy foil, crush into place, rendering the lab airtight.

Phil stopped talking a while ago. You're pretty sure you still have your hearing. The Seeds haven't taken that from you yet.

But they've taken Phil's joy.

He's gone from curiosity and bouncing excitement to some sort of withdrawn concern. Now and then, he starts forward or is about to say something, but then clams up suddenly, not sure if saying anything would help.

You try to keep him busy with things. It seems to help when he's got something concrete he knows he can help with.

>>36516672
>>36517069
Goddamnit don't let this be the end of us and our bike.

Please HD please

>>36517115
I'm hoping anon, but its damn hard.

I don't want this quest to end like this, I just want more cyberpunk shenanigans with us and our bike, is that too much to ask for?

>>36517069
Fucking hell.

This kid's going to be traumatized for life.

>>36517069
Well if I knew that the package wasn't sealed and wasn't safe like we were told I would definitely have voted for 'fuck no' back when shit was going sideways at the digsite.

I really really fucking hope OP doesn't kill us over this.

>>36517140
We can take him under our wing, find him a bike of his own, train him as our protege in the ways ot motorcycle lovi- I mean motorcycle couriers...

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MuaQflZr3Fo

>>36517164
But he's a guy, a motorcycle can't love him as it loves us.

>>36517230
He can find a cute girl bike to love tenderly, we can be his wingman

If this is the end, I must say it has been a pleasure riding with all of you.

>>36517271
I don't want it to end.

>>36517271
I fucking hope its not the end that would be pretty shitty railroading.

I was looking forward to getting into the pocket of one of the corps with the cure and working for them to pay it off, to working alongside our friend whos already sold out to a corp, to giving our bike loving tender care and sweet upgrades.

This better fucking not be the end.

>>36517301
Neither do I anon, I hope HD isn't going to railroad the end like that.

>>36517301
All things must end, Anon. Though truth be told I wish this ends at a later date on a much happier note as apposed to now.

>>36517329
Having our apartment raided was more inline with railroading, that was going to happen either way. But with this we had a binary choice to accept a package from a scary looking asshole that just came from a biohazard area. Shit has consequences man.

>>36517336
>All things must end, Anon
No they don't, fuck that noise.

Rage against the dying of the light.

Don't let this awesome quest end on such a shitty depressing note, not after it's been so awesome.

>>36517388
We had a choice to continue through with a job we had already committed to, with almost no info on it at all apart from 'this shit is big yo'.

To end the quest with a 2 thread railroad like this would be fucking atrocious. Ever since we picked that package up it feels like its just one long railroad with no way of surviving through this shitfest.

>>36517301
>>36517329
>>36517336
>>36517388
>>36517402
>>36517418
>yfw10 threads of being experienced courier, kicking ass and taking names
>yfw it was only an elaborate fake out
>yfw real protagonist is Phillip

>>36517425
Pink Shota Cyberpunk Motorcycle Quest coming up.

>>36517388
A binary choice that was a hell of a long time ago, that was made in the moment that did that in any way hint at how big this actually was, let alone the fact that it would be a "PRESS X TO LIVE, PRESS Y TO DIE" choice how many updates ago?

That would be shitty as hell.

>>36517425
Lamia Vagrant Quest showed exactly why that's a fucking terrible idea, and I sincerely hope Haiku is smart enough to not do that or end things here, not with how great this has been, and not on such a sad railroaded note.

>>36517425
>>36517439
That would be a fast way to ensure a bunch of players never read OPs stuff ever again, just like that one lamia murderhobo one-shot quest.

>>36517069

"Unzip the bag and hook up the package," Morrison says, the harsh note of caffeine marring her delivery.

Most of the lab is metal, or that sterile white paint. Well, the places daubed with your blood aren't that sterile anymore. You might have found that funny once, but you're just moving robotically through a red haze now.

Instead of cables, the connectors, an assortment of fiddly looking electronic things, are mounted on jointed metal stalks within the clear cabinet.

You'll have Phil hook those up, you think, as you grit your teeth and reach to unzip the duffle bag. He'll be much better at it than you are.

It's hard, pulling the zipper open. The shards tear against your muscles as they flex.

You're not even sure it's worth it in the end, as the tough fabric of the duffle bag slips from your fingers.

The package turns out to be a stack of metal boxes, perhaps old-style hard drives, in some sort of frame. It's coated in Plutonix sector's familiar gray dust. Everything that might once have been plastic is deeply crusted with the carbon shards, and you notice, even through the red haze, that the inside of the bag is growing several deposits too.

You smell something around the blood and pain, something that might be the ghost of the dusty scent of Plutonix sector, your most recent home.

>Rage at Morrison
>You're too far gone to care
>Write In

Second choice:

>Have Phil hook it up
>Hook it up yourself