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>>36589982
>META POST

Wait, who is this guy? Aren't you a motorcycle courier?

No, you're currently Raynard Eriksson, a Director of Nepcor, leader of Dagon Core, and general badass at large.

Have fun and go completely nuts.


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

Archive (for figuring out how you got here): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20Quest

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

LAST SESSION'S STATS:

PROFESSIONAL RANKING: EUPHEMISTIC!
BONUS OBJECTIVES CLEARED: No Accounting For Taste; Starred And Barred; Penta-Pass; Carrying A Torch; Primal Roar; Beating It Into Him; Passing the Torch
STYLE POINTS: 1100

OVERALL RANKING: COMPLICIT!

>>36589982
>But it's sad news calling you back to the mainland [mourn Qui, that little shit]
Also FUCK YEEEEEAH

>>36589982
>But it's sad news calling you back to the mainland [mourn Qui]

>>36589982
>But it's sad news calling you back to the mainland [mourn Qui]
> also grab a bottle of gin from the bar

>>36589982
>But it's sad news calling you back to the mainland [mourn Qui]
>You're so happy you grabbed a bottle of Rum from the bar

>>36589982
>>But it's sad news calling you back to the mainland [mourn Qui]
requiescat in pace

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>>36589982

But your smile fades as your thoughts turn to the sad news that brings you back to the mainland.

Qui's dead.

Revolving those words in your mind, you unscrew the top on the bottle of gin you snagged from the bar. He wasn't your best Asset. He was an arrogant prick. He gave himself a big-ass nickname.

But you remember the shine in his eyes when you told him he'd made the cut, that he was part of Dagon Core, if just barely. He thought you could help him become a legend, you think, taking a swig from the bottle.

Christ, it's like drinking a christmas tree.

Gin was never your favorite, but there's something to be said for the way it makes you grind your teeth in hatred. Fits your mood right now.

You won't know how he died until you make it to the mainland, but you hope he died like the badass he wanted so badly to be. Hell, with that much determination, he would have been a legend eventually, once the Hounds rubbed his rough edges off.

Well, you can certainly understand why they went after his killer, you think, gulping from the bottle again. It doesn't taste as foul this time. The three of them were pretty thick with each other, all cocky, all competing to be on top and mocking whoever fell behind.

But for all their barking, the Hounds never really bit the younger Asset. They were his older brothers, where you could only be his stern grandfather, always slightly disappointed.

Because if you were ever satisfied, he might have stopped trying so hard to impress you.

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>>36590927

You gaze blearily across the empty cargo bay, eyes sweeping over the row of folded seats across from you. Gray plastic. Uncomfortable.

Uniform. Not like Qui, who always tried to stand out, be the tall poppy.

But hell, didn't every asset try to do that? Wasn't that exactly what you wanted?

Was it three years since you'd taken him on, or four? You can't quite recall, but you remember watching him clear a surprised room with nothing but his signature knife. One second he was in an air vent, the next second, the bodies had hit the floor.

Impressive, good enough to recruit him for Dagon Core, at least. Even if having a 'signature' weapon was presumptuous.

>Glance at your signature pair of sawn-off shotguns with bayonets
>Glance at the standard, mass-produced rifle you always end up using
>Glance at your signature Write In

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>>36591038
>Glance at your fists

>>36591038
this:
>>36591084
(almost) natural weapons!

>>36591038
>>Glance at your signature Nepcor-issue revolvers. Old-fashioned but customized to your taste.

>>36591038
>Light saber or Fist

>>36591084
Fists and polished shoes.

>>36591084
Augmented Fists?

>Y
>N

>>36591179
>Y

>>36591179
>>Y

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>>36591038
Twin thumpers.

>>36591179
>Y

>>36591179
>n

>>36591179
y

>>36591038

Not that you have much room to judge, you think as you swirl the last of the gin in the bottle. When did it get so low, anyway?

You watch the artificial muscles bunch and stretch as your hand swings the bottle around by its neck. At the end of the day, aren't your armored fists even worse than Qui's stupid butterfly knife shit ever was?

Haven't you yelled "I'm empty-handed, bitches!" more times than you can count? Did you think he wasn't watching?

Maybe that was why he decided he needed something special, you wonder, letting your gaze drift along the VTOL's internal ribs. It certain wasn't the Hounds that taught him to use something that would stand out - they just dished out mayhem with whatever came to hand.

Even mocked him for sticking with the fiddly little knife. That always got Qui's goat.

Fuck, he was defending your style as much as his own choice, wasn't he?

A gin-scented tear trickles down your nose as you run your free hand through your graying hair, feeling the cool composites on your scalp. Sometimes, you never realize what's right in front of you until it's too late.

The Hounds don't get to hunt Qui's killer.

That's going to be your pleasure.

>>36591605
Oh yes.

>>36591605
Shame she's already dead.

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>>36591744
>people actually think a LAURA I doesn't imply a LAURA II

>>36591780
maybe Laura II is a clone!

>>36591780
>implying we won't be playing her ghost

>>36591809
She's a replicant.

>>36591844
Not
>We can rebuild her. We have the technology.

>>36591926
> Better. Stronger. Faster.

>>36591981
she'll make one with her motorcycle
in a more literal way this time

>>36591605

You swig the last of the gin, then let the bottle fall from your artificial fingers. Surprisingly, it doesn't shatter on the cargo bay's floor. You watch it roll away, hit an indentation in the floor, set there to strap cargo to, and bounces off in another direction. It rolls behind something, or your fuzzying vision loses track of it as you sag against your straps.

Goddamn it. You need to stop doing this every damn time you lose someone.

At least you'll sober up before you hit the mainland, you think. You'll probably be over the hangover by then too. If you drink enough water.

Qui. He could have been a legend. He could have been a contender.

All he wanted was to be you, dammit.

You slide slowly into oblivion, pounding a fist into the folded seat next to you, cracking the plastic.

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>>36592039

You're not over the hangover by the time you make it back. As you stagger out of the VTOL, head splitting, you vaguely recall hearing something about 'massive tailwinds', 'opening it it up all the way', and 'speed bonus'.

Rain pelts into you as you step onto the landing pad, the comfortingly solid concrete of the Telchine Harbor complex under your feet at last. Your bloodshot eyes sweep across the interlocking concrete barriers and artificial lagoons, each nestling its own bevy of Nepcor ships. Containers and cranes all around, each doing their part to get goods in and out of the city.

Nepcor HQ is a bit wetter than when you last saw it, but otherwise it hasn't changed much in the two days you've been gone, you think, as the VTOL spins up to take off behind you, rotors sending more of the salt air rushing through your nostrils.

The last whiff of the mistress' perfume before you go to face the wife.

At least she sent one of her daughters to greet you, and not the Hounds. You might have punched one of them right into the harbor. The thought of burying your fist into one of their smug faces puts of smile on your own as you stumble through the rain toward the waiting Asset.

Thank God she's holding an umbrella.

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>>36592644

Long pink hair, suit, and a bit of a smile. Cute. Recent hire. Rides a motorcycle like there's no tomorrow, you slowly recall. The suit looks good on her.

What was her name again? You rummage through your splitting headache of a mind and finally dredge up 'Eliza' as you reach her.

"Welcome back, Mr. Eriksson," she says, holding out the umbrella to cover you, "did you enjoy your trip?"

>Write In

>>36592788
"Besides the ocean view, not in the least."

>>36592788
Nod.

>>36592788
Oh God Eliza, I need like 10 Nepcor Pain Relief Tablets. And Sunglasses

>>36592788
Oh, she's an Asset? I recall Laura thought her just rank-and-file. I suppose my guess earlier was right, she knew exactly what was going down when she called.

>>36592788
"mhmm"

>>36592788

"Mhmm," you mutter, nodding to her, and lurch along the giant wall toward a bunker-like concrete structure. She falls into step beside you, carefully holding the umbrella to shield you from the rain, as the two of you head toward the heavily-armored entrance to the stairs.

The Nepcor offices are honeycombed inside the titanic concrete walls that divide the Telchine Harbor into its many lagoons and berths. Some of them tower hundreds of meters above the water's surface, tons upon tons of reinforced concrete. Anyone important enough to have a window sees the ships at anchor, a constant reminder of Nepcor's core business.

Even with that, some of them seem to forget. God, but annexing Kronocorp's territory after the glassing was a terrible idea, and the company's still suffering for it. Land is the last thing Nepcor needed.

You have the sea, for crying out loud.

The door in front of you, a solid slab of steel, opens when the Asset taps a keycard against it, saving you the trouble. The smile's gone, you notice as you sneak a glance at her face.

You step through and stalk down the concrete stairs, heading for your office. As a perk of being a full-on director, you have one very close to a helipad. Useful for times like this, when you just want to sink into a goddamn chair.

>>36593422

Eliza's light footsteps follow you down the hallways, as you walk them with a predatory air. Screen mounted on the bare concrete walls display shipping statistics, harbor statuses, and a scrolling list of the latest corp police actions.

Things actually look pretty decent, even through your jaundiced eyes.

Neither you nor the Asset say a word until you reach your office, enter the necessary passcodes, and finally hear the comforting noise of all the bolts slamming home in the shut blast door behind you, closing you off from the world.

Eliza dutifully flicks on the Jacob's ladder as you throw yourself into your chair. The sparks start climbing the gap one after another, each one disturbing any wireless transmissions in the vicinity.

It'll do, until you can get a full bug sweep.

"God, Eliza," you say from the depths of your overstuffed captain's chair, "I need ten pain tablets, and my damn sunglasses."

>What happened to Qui?
>Where are the Hounds?
>What's been going on around here recently?
>Write In

>>36593444
>What happened to Qui?
>Where are the Hounds?
>What's been going on around here recently?

>>36593444
>>What happened to Qui?
>>Where are the Hounds?
In order of descending importance

>>36593444
>What happened to Qui?

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>>36593444

"What happened to Qui?" you growl, as she rummages through a cabinet for the specified items.

"Burnt to death on a job in the Danger Zone," she tells you, in a carefully level voice, her back revealing nothing.

Were they close? You can't remember, but you don't think so. God, but it's good to just sink back into the leather. The Jacob's ladder fills in the silence.

"Any clue who did it?" you ask, drumming your fingers on the arms of your chair, "and where are the Hounds?"

"Catch," Eliza says, tossing a bottle of pills to you, and then follows up with the sunglasses. You put them on gratefully, and shake out a couple of pills into your palm, studying them through your darkened lenses.

"We've got a drone recording," she says, seating herself in another chair and putting her elbows on your desk, "and a cop report that places a third-party courier at the scene," she finishes, setting her chin on her palm, and frowning, "the Hounds are chasing her down."

That's not the face of someone who's being completely straight with you, you think as you gulp the pills. Eliza looks pensive.

Wait.

If the Hounds are still chasing the courier, they've been off the harbor job for days now. You glance at the phone on your desk, and see the 'message' light flashing. Herbert, the Harbormaster, has probably left you three or four earfuls of messages.

>Something wrong?
>Her?
>Where did they go?
>What about the harbor job?
>Let her sit while you listen to your messages
>Write In

>>36593856
>>What about the harbor job?
>>Something wrong?

>>36593856
>Something wrong?
>Her?
>What about the harbor job?

>>36593856
>Something wrong?

>>36593856
>Something wrong?
>Her?
>What about the harbor job?

>>36593856

Something's been off for a while, you realize suddenly. Eliza's usually bubbly and cheerful. Hell, this is the first time you've ever seen her look sad about something.

Should have realized it as soon as she greeted you at the landing pad.

Fucking hangovers. You can't wait for the pills to take the edge off this pounding headache, you think, tilting your chair back. They cannot kick in soon enough. You stare up at the ceiling, gray mortar swept and shaped into the semblance of waves over the concrete.

"What about the harbor job?" you ask in a voice like the grave, knowing what the answer's going to be.

"When they heard about Qui," she says tonelessly, "they went berserk. 24-hour schedule, pulling witnesses and suspects out of bed in the middle of the night and dunking them in the sea. I've never seen them like that before - they ran every lead they had straight into the ground."

Well at least they didn't chuck it altogether, you think, tilting forward in your chair to look at the Asset across your desk. She's young enough to be your granddaughter, you think for the thousandth time. And you'd like to have a granddaughter like her.

>>36594426

Or like she was before you left. This glumly professional girl definitely isn't the Eliza you hired.

"Something wrong?" you ask, trying to sound pleasant and grandfatherly. She's not Qui, you remind yourself. You never would have taken this tone with Qui. He needed pressure to be all that he could be.

You haven't quite figured out what Eliza needs. She's a bit more of a puzzle than the others.

"They had me pull all the info I could get on Qui's job and death," she tells you, eyes roving the farthest corners of the room, deliberately avoiding yours, "so I haven't been getting any sleep."

Oh, that's not good.

>That can't be it. You're hiding something. [Accusatory]
>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]
>Beat it out of her. You don't have the patience for these games. Not right now. [Combative]
>So what did you find out? [Moving right along]
>Write In

[There's an interruption. I should be back within 45 minutes.]

>>36594479
>So what did you find out? [Moving right along]

>>36594479
>Beat it out of her. You don't have the patience for these games. Not right now. [Combative]

>>36594479
>So what did you find out? [Moving right along]

>>36594479
>>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]

>>36594479
"You have five minutes to figure out how to tell me what you don't want to tell me. Now what did you find out?"

>>36594479
>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]
>Please don't hide anything from me. Not now.

>>36594479
>>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]

>>36594479
>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]

>>36594479
>That can't be it. You're hiding something. [Accusatory]

>>36594479
>That can't be all of it. You can tell me anything. [Sympathetic]

I'm back.

Counting and writing.

>>36594479

"Eliza," you say, as grandfatherly as you can make yourself sound when you're this hung over, "I can tell there's something else bothering you."

The Asset starts twisting and untwisting the end of her hair around a finger. "I'm just having a bit of trouble with a friend right now," she says, "that's all."

You stare at her across the heavy expanse of the desk for a few seconds. Only the sparking of the Jacob's ladder breaks the silence. You cradle your throbbing head in your hands, resting your elbows on the desk, and seconds stretch into minutes. "You can tell me anything," you finally say, "please, let's not have a secret keeping match. Not now."

"I'm just," she starts, then pauses. The Jacob's ladder goes off a few times, and she begins again, "just having some problems with an old friend, just realizing things can't stay like they were forever, you know?"

You peek out between two fingers. She's hung her head, staring down at the top of your desk. Christ, she looks miserable.

And guilty as hell.

"Yeah," you say, in a heavy voice, "I know." Some of your friends became rungs on that ladder you climbed to a directorship. Some of them were really good friends.

>Tell me, dammnit. I'm not in the mood for games right now. [Combative]
>So what did you find out? [Moving on]
>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]
>Write In

>>36595823

>Qui wouldn't have wanted this [Appeal to Pathos]

>>36595823
>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>Is it something you did, or something they did? [Sympathetic]

>>36595823
>Qui wouldn't have wanted this [Appeal to Pathos]

Damnit I really really wanted Laura and Eliza friendship funtimes...

Why you got to be so depressing HD?

I really hope they can still be friends and get a drink and talk motorbikes after this shit is over

>>36596065
Sure, I want that, but I also want current MC to follow his instincts and interrogate Eliza; even if she does not yet fully realize he is doing it.

>>36595823

"Is it something you did," you continue, your head buried in your hands, "or something they did?"

"It's," she starts, then the inevitable pause begins. You count the sparks on the Jacob's ladder for a while, then lose track.

This really isn't your strong suit, and you're feeling kind of helpless as you stare at the wood grain veneer of your desk. Punching information out of people, now that you can do. Beating sense into people who aren't living their lives correctly - you're pretty good for that too.

But this emotional stuff, sitting across a desk from someone who's obviously hurting, and not because you hit them (now, that you can get into) this isn't your thing.

You blame the hangover. It's filed your edge right off, and left you as this emotionally sensitive wreck. Fuck getting old. This is shit.

Then the quiet sobbing begins, almost covered by noise of the Jacob's ladder. You sit up and look at Eliza, hunched over in her chair, hands covering her face, back shaking.

God fucking dammit.

That's when your desk phone starts ringing. The small LCD screen tells you it's Ed, your best contact over in intelligence.

>Ignore it and keep sitting there
>THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW. YOU'RE GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING THE FUCK ON. WITH YOUR FUCKING FISTS.
>Pick it up
>Write In

>>36596401
>>Pick it up

>>36596401
>Pick it up

>>36596401
>Pick it up
Then if the phone call doesn't make us change our mind:
>THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING STRAW. YOU'RE GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT'S GOING THE FUCK ON. WITH YOUR FUCKING FISTS.

>>36596401
>Write In

Ignore the phone, get up, walk around the desk, and hug her.

>>36596401
>>Pick it up
Later we'll go full man mode.

>>36596401
>>Pick it up

>>36596401
>Write In
Give her a pat on the shoulder then
>>Pick it up
after that we can get back to comforting Eliza

>>36596401
>>36596481
>>36596498
These, give her a bit of comfort then attend to the fucking phone, then we get back into full emotional mode after the annoying phonecall.

>>36596498
>>after that we can get back to comforting Eliza
It's not going to get us any results, now the time to shed our mask approaches.

>>36596401
>>36596498
support

>>36596401
>Pick it up
> Write in
"Ed, you better have some fucking good info. for me, I don't have time to hear about your dumb riddles."

After the phone call, we go back to talking to Eliza. Something along the lines of, "You know what I can do... I'd rather not have to beat this out of you." Something assurative yet threatening.

>>36596520
>not going to get us any results

We haven't tried physical reassurance yet. That's might work.

If we don't pick up the phone, we're implying she's more important than anything Ed might want to tell us.

>>36596824
>physical reassurance
With our fists?

>>36596832
gently massaging her shoulders and back, yes anon

we got our augmented hands just for massaging, while the city is our wife, the sea our mistress, the masseuse table is our girl next door babysitter and we're her sugar daddy

>>36596832
Hugging her, you mongoloid.

>>36596877
Gently massage her shoulder out of it's socket? That'll loosen her lips.

>>36596912
No anon, we did not get our fists for violence, we got them to be the best damned masseuse in the seven seas.

>>36596401

You pick up the phone. "Hello, Ed?" you say, "you'd better have something good for me," you growl, "not another riddle."

"Ray," he says, completely ignoring your statement, "something crazy's going down in Plutonix Sector. They've launched an all-hands manhunt for a motorcycle courier."

"What?" you ask, standing up from the chair, jumping at the thought of getting out of this situation.

"Yeah," Ed says, obviously very excited, "something big happened at the Old City digsite right beforehand."

That makes your blood run cold. You've seen the nanoplague up close and personal, you think, clenching your free hand automatically. Christ, but those Plutonix scientists were some crazy bastards to move into that sector, even if they did discover a way to cleanse the stuff.

Most of the first wave died, you remember, following their leader's crazy dream. He was more of a charismatic leader than a scientist himself, if you recall correctly. It's been a while, you think, pacing around your desk, you were young back when they tried to claim the dead Old City for themselves.

You pass behind Eliza, still sobbing quietly in her chair.

A motorcycle courier. There are several of them in the city, but you don't believe in coincidence.

>Eliza, what sector did the Hounds go to?
>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>Write In

Second Option Set:

>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder
>Just walk past her

>>36597377
>>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>>Just walk past her

>>36597377
>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder

Yeah! Motorcycle shenanigans!

>>36597377
>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>Just walk past her

>>36597377
>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder

>>36597377
>>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder

>>36597377
>>Eliza, what sector did the Hounds go to?
>>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?

>>36597377
>Eliza, what sector did the Hounds go to?
If she says Plutonix, then go,

>Eliza, how fast can you get ready to ride?
Either way

>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder

You guys are horrible at being a high powered asshole alpha male executive. I wish I could say I was surprised. But I'm not.

>>36597766
but anon a cute girl is crying

>>36597766
We may be a high powered asshole alpha male executive, but we are also good to our subordinates.

>>36597377
>Eliza, what sector did the Hounds go to?
>Put a comforting hand on Eliza's shoulder

>>36597766
I know, I just get consistently outvoted by these sexist betas.

>>36597377

On a sudden impulse, you put your free hand on Eliza's shoulder, kind of pat it, then let it rest there. She stiffens at first, then seems to relax. You can feel her shake with the half-repressed sobs.

"Eliza," you say gently, "how fast can you get ready to ride?"

She sniffles, a long wet noise, wipes her eyes, then turns her head around to face you.

God, what a face. Her makeup's smeared, there are tear tracks down her cheeks, her eyes are red, and there's even a bit of snot hanging from her nose.

"Five minutes," she manages to get out between sobs.

"Make it ten," you say, kneading her shoulder with your hand, "and take some time to wash your face and eat something." It's really all you can think of.

Eliza nods to you and pushes the chair back. You give her one last pat on the shoulder, then let her get up.

"You've only been back fifteen minutes," Ed says as Eliza lets herself out of your office, and you can hear his smile through the phone, "and you've already plowed the fine Ass-ette across your desk? You fast worker, you!"

>Lose your shit at Ed
>Joke back at him
>LOSE YOUR SHIT AT ED
>Say you're not in the mod
>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.
>Write In

[Write ins will be appreciated for all 'lose your shit at Ed' options.]

>>36597864
>Look man, I'm not in the mo-
>>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.

>>36597864
>>Say you're not in the mood
"Ed, if you don't stop being a cock mongler I'm going to strap you to a dry dock and plow you with the Thetis.

>>36597864
>Lose your shit at Ed
Casually pick him up and place him head-first in a trashcan.

>>36597377
>You've seen the nanoplague up close and personal, you think, clenching your free hand automatically

Is that how we lost our arm? Is there actually a cure, if you're rich enough?

>>36597864
>>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.

>>36597864
>Lose your shit at Ed
>LOSE YOUR SHIT AT ED
>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.

>>36597938
>Is there actually a cure
It's been stated that yes there is, apparently Plutonix has one

>>36597864
Sure >>36597882

>>36597864
>>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.

"FIGURE OUT WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, NOW."

>>36597864
> LOSE YOUR SHIT ON ED

"What the fuck sludge were you feeding to my Hounds, huh?! You're the best goddamn Rat in this city and you can't find one FUCKING COURIER!? One more fuck up and I swear that they won't even be able to ID your remains!"

>>36597967
"For fuck's sake shut your cockless gob, you witless gaping anus diver."

>>36597864
>>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.

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>>36597864
>Say you're not in the mood

>>36597882
>>36597933
>>36597944
>>36597950
>>36597967
>>36597975
>>36597988
>>36598011
>>36598044
Oh, yes, let's just let the subordinate who's obviously LYING TO US off the hook Scot free, then blow our top at our 'best contact' in intelligence because he makes a joke, the kind of joke we would make, at the wrong time.

There is no way this can go wrong.

>>36598113
You have to realize our character. He's HOT BLOODED, This is normal.

>>36598113
but anon she was crying

>>36598113
We're hung over, and the older man starts to get a bit soft when he sees a cute, young Asset struggling with something.

Ed, on the other hand, is probably the one who gave the Hounds the info. that Gui died and led them on this wild goose chase.

>>36598130
And we want to fuck her

>>36598113
We'll bash her head in when she gets back, ok?

>>36598159
No.

We;ll give her a good massage, help her get cleaned up, then bend her over and fuck her sensually on our desk.

We save the rough and tumble stuff for our accountants and ED

>>36598194
You mean we pound accountants and Ed over our into submission?

>>36598159
yeah nah we ain't doin that

>>36597864
>LOSE ALL YOUR SHIT AT ED. THE MAN HAS PAINTED A BIG FUCKING TARGET ON HIMSELF.
>Write In
"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU LITTLE COCKGOBLIN.
MY HEAD FEELS LIKE IT IS ABOUT TO SPLIT APART AT THE SEAMS TO EAT THE NEXT MOTHERFUCKER THAT EVEN LOOKS AT ME WRONG.
I HAD TO LEAVE THE FUN OF SURPRISING SOME LITTLE SHITWEASELS AND BURNING DOWN THEIR ENTIRE COMPOUND.

YOU ARE TO OPEN YOUR DICK VACUUM ONCE, AND ONLY ONCE TO EXPLAIN HOW. THE. -FUCK- YOU COULDN'T FIND THE SHITSMEAR OF THE GLORIFIED PIZZABOY WHO BURNT ONE OF OUR OPERATIVES TO DEATH THE MOMENT YOU HEARD THE TINIEST INKLING OF HIS DEATH IN RECORD-BREAKING FUCKING TIME.

THIS IS AN OPERATIVE, OF WHOM I'LL REMIND YOU OF SLOWLY SO THE SHEER VOID OF TOTAL EMPTINESS THAT EXISTS BETWEEN YOUR EARS CAN ABSORB, SHOVE UP ITS OWN ASS AND FUCK ITSELF TO DEATH WITH, IS ONE OF THE MOTHERFUCKING HOUNDS.

THE VERY SAME HOUNDS THAT, IF YOU'D DONE WHAT YOU ARE PAID EXTREME-TOP-DOLLAR TO DO INSTEAD OF JERKING YOUR TINY LITTLE ACORN DICK RAW TO THAT WEIRD FUCKING TRANSHUMAN-TURNED-SPACE-SQUID JAP PORNOGRAPHY, WOULD HAVE THE COURIER TIED TO A ROCK GLUED TO A MISSILE BEING SHOT INTO THE SUN ALREADY.

AFTER TELLING ME WHY YOU COULDN'T FUCKING DO THAT, YOU'LL ANSWER MY QUESTIONS THREE, KING TURD OF FECAL MOUNTAIN. WHERE ARE THE HOUNDS, WHERE IS THE COURIER AND WHERE IS THE TRANSPORT I AM PERSONALLY GOING TO DIVEBOMB INTO ALL OF THEM?"

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>>36597864

"Look, Ed," you begin, and then wait until all the bolts shoot into the blast door behind Eliza, "GO FUCK YOURSELF," you yell into the phone, putting one foot up on your desk like a pirate captain on a bottle of rum, "BETTER YET, I'LL DO IT WITH THE THETIS, IN THE DRYDOCK! A TWO-HUNDRED METER STEEL COCK, THRUSTING THROUGH YOU! DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE IT, ED? DO YOU FEEL LUCKY, PUNK?"

Dead silence on the other end of the line as the echoes of your voice dissipate into the corners of your concrete box office.

"I'm helping my subordinate through a tough time here," you continue, in a measured tone, "and you imply I'm just taking advantage of her over the desk? Fucking you with the Thetis is only the beginning, if you give me that bilge again."

More silence. It's almost eloquent in its simplicity.

"Speaking of bilge," you begin again, shaking a clenched fist at the ceiling, "what the fuck sludge were you feeding to my Hounds, huh? I leave for three days, and everything's fucked when I come back. What the Hell has been going on?"

>>36598498

"Fuck, man," Ed finally says, "I'm not a god, that's just what I tell women when they ask. All I know is that Qui got roasted by some courier, your Hounds then proceeded to royally fuck up the harbor investigation, and that pink-haired Asset of yours has been running some sort of no-stone-unturned inquiry into the courier who burnt Qui, culminating in a triangulation attack on a phone somewhere in Plutonix sector about half an hour ago," he spits out, then pauses for breath, "and your Hounds lit out after it right before you showed up."

"I get called away for three days," you groan, running your free hand through your hair, "and everything goes to pieces? Ed, you know I don't believe in coincidences. Can you dig into this for me, and we'll call it even?"

"Sure thing, Ray," he tells you, "and you know I'd enjoy making sweet love to the Thetis."

"I'll see what I can do to arrange that," you tell him, "always a pleasure, Ed."

With that, you plunk the phone back into its cradle.

You still have a few minutes before Eliza should be ready to go, and your headache is fading fast. The pills are finally working their magic.

>Gather grunts for the mission
>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza
>Write In

>>36598509
Keep it to /qtghost/

>>36598506
>>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza
someones got to keep the hounds in check

>>36598506
>Gather grunts for the mission

>>36598509
Get the fuck outta here with this nonsense, jesus.

>>36598506
>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza

>>36598506
>>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza

>>36598506
>>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this

>META POST

>>36598338
That's seriously impressive.

>>36598509
Get out. I already fought all the battles with the mods I want to fight.

>>36598506
>>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza

We love punching things, but when there's a risk of nanoplague, safety outweighs passion.

As for Eliza, we straight up have to ask her when we see her: "The courier who whacked Qui... It's your friend, isn't it?" If she's defensive or evasive, we have to reply with something along the lines of, "you don't get to where I'm at without making a few educated guesses along the way."

>>36598506
>Gather grunts for the mission

>>36598608
Haha, thanks, only wish I got it in sooner.

>>36598506
>>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza
Confront Eliza about being evasive on the courier. "Elisa, You know the courier, don't you? And I mean socially, not as in you know who they are."

>>36598506
>>Grab a rifle - your fists might not be enough for this
>>Head down to the garage to wait for Eliza

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>>36598506

You think for a moment about gathering grunts, but they would probably just slow you down, you decide as you step through your office's blast door. Riding passenger on Eliza's bike is your best shot at getting to the scene fast enough.

And it'll give you another opportunity to figure out what's eating her up, you think, as you hear the steel door's bolts shoot behind you. Something to do with the courier, presumably.

"An old friend," you mumble to yourself as you stalk toward the armory. Eliza was a courier herself, before you recruited her. If an old friend of hers had killed Qui, and she set the Hounds on her in return, well, you can understand why she's giving herself a hard time over it.

You remember that feeling well, as you press your keycard to the armory door's reader.

You can still hear that scream dwindling into nothing as he fell from the building.

Back before you were a fully-fledged Asset, back when you were just a goddamn sailor in way over his head.

You can remember him blooming into a bright red rose on the pavement twenty floors below, as your eyes sweep the rack of rifles. Your fists might be your signature weapons, all you need to wreck anyone's day, or set a man to living his life correctly, but you don't want to take on the nanoplague with them.

More bad memories there. Well, you have had sixty-odd years to collect them, you think, as you strap on a harness already stuffed with spare magazines, then grad one of the identical rifles at random.

It's light in your augmented arms, almost as light as a toy, as you step back out into the hallway and start walking toward the garage.

A toy you could kill a man with at 700 meters.

>>36599135
and right as he leaves posting goes back up

>>36599171
Believe in HD anon, he won't forsake us so soon.

>>36599310
https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge/status/541151278231863296

>>36599310
forsook us he has

>>36599310
Anon, I have bad news for you.
"Posting down on 4chin.

Done for tonight. Hopefully I'll be able to run tomorrow."

>>36599317
>>36599322
>>36599327
Aw, fuck.

File: Elizabike.png (1.19 MB, 2000x1200)

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>>36599135

The garage is a long, low-ceilinged room, punctuated by thick, square pillars, each pair with some corp vehicle parked between them. APCs, nondescript vans, ordinary-looking cars, motorcycles, even a couple of sports cars. You can see a few mechanics doing routine maintenance on the a couple of them.

Elizabeth, conspicuous in her armored driving suit, is filling up her bike at the far end. The powerful prototype machine is clad in matching armor, and it's probably the biggest single reason she's with Nepcor. It's the one thing you could offer her that nobody else could.

You nod to the mechanics as you stride past them, straight down the center of the room, like you own the place.

Well, you do. This is Dagon Core's private garage, from which you could launch a blitzing assault on any ground target in the city, with a good chance of taking it out.

Unless another megcorp's private army was there to stop you. Then things would get ugly.

The thought puts a grin on your face as you stop across the bike from Eliza, crossing your arms over your chest.

>Ready to ride?
>You doing better now?
>Ready to tell me what's going on?
>Ready to tell me about your friend
>Stay silent
>Write In

>>36602387
>>You doing better now?
>>Ready to tell me what's going on?
>>Ready to tell me about your friend

>>36602387
>Ready to tell me about your friend?

>>36602387
You doing better now?
>Ready to ride?

>>36602387
>>Ready to ride?
>>Ready to tell me about your friend

>>36602387

"Doing better now?" you ask gently. It comes more easily now that the hangover isn't trying to pound its way out of your head. However, you're still very thankful for the sunglasses. They're probably the only thing preventing the cold light of the mercury vapor floodlights from stabbing your eyes out.

"Yeah," you think you hear, muffled by the armored suit. Not using the suit's speakers, huh.

Quickly, you dig your earpiece out of a jacket pocket, flick it on, and stuff it into your ear. There's a solution for everything, and low-powered wireless is the solution to this problem. Hell, you can hear her steady breathing inside her helmet now, straight into your ear, as if her head was nestled on your shoulder.

Eliza's young enough to be your granddaughter, and she's your subordinate, you remind yourself, cutting off that train of thought.

"Sorry," you tell her as she turns to put the hose back up, "didn't have my earpiece in." You know your voice is being piped straight into her helmet now, any vibration in your jawbone relayed directly to the internal speakers.

Unless she turns it off.

"Yeah," she says, sounding a bit tired, "I'm feeling a bit better now, thanks."

Watching Eliza mount the motorcycle is as much of a treat as ever. The obviously skilled rider on the hulkingly powerful ride, armored suit matching the machine's own defensive plates, everything fitting like a glove.

It even has contact points for telemetry, you remember, as you hop on behind her, rifle slung over your back. Even if someone's jamming the area, she still has all the motorcycle's data at her fingertips, including a thermal sensor set, if you remember correctly.

Definitely a bike worth selling your soul to a megacorp for, you think, wrapping your arms around the hard plates of her riding suit.

>>36602686

"Ready to ride?" Eliza asks you, her voice almost cheerful in your ear. Amazing what a difference simply being on the motorcycle makes in her attitude.

"Let's get going," you tell her confidently, "head for Plutonix Sector, the location you triangulated for the hounds."

Even over the noise of the engine bucking to life, you can hear her gasp inside her helmet. She didn't expect you to know about that, although you would have found out from the hounds eventually.

The bike shoots down the ramp and out of the heavy blast doors guarding the garage. Eliza sweeps it around, narrowly missing a passing cargo hauler, and heads off down the quay, along the narrow strip of concrete bordering the sea.

"Ready to tell me about your friend?" you ask the rushing wind, as it blasts your face with cold rain. At least it isn't getting in your eyes, "thanks for getting me the sunglasses, by the way. They're really helping out."

"What do you want to know?" Eliza asks, voice hardened to a gray tempered steel. Its edge isn't turned to you. Yet.

>Is it the courier? [Question]
>I'm proud of what you did. [Praise]
>We've all had to do something like that. [Empathize]
>Write In

>>36602774
>>Is it the courier? [Question]

>>36602774
>Is it the courier? [Question]
>Write In
"It's not to late to help them, theres business opportunities everywhere, and if this courier friend of yours is good enough to take out Qui, then I'm imagining the work they could do alongside you."

>>36602774
>Is it the courier? [Question]
Nothing else

>>36602810
>then I'm imagining
then just imagine*

>>36602810
She killed our boy Qui, why would we not want her strung up by her intestines?

>>36602823
Because we put business first, and it would be good business, god knows we've fucked over friends for business before.

>>36602810
The face of metagaming.

>>36602823
Erik climbed the corporate ladder on the bodies of friends, its not too much of a stretch for me to think that he could and would put such a profitable opportunity ahead of his feelings, it wouldn't be the first time for him.

>>36602774
>>Is it the courier? [Question]

>>36602835
One of the many reasons why when you do PoV shifts, you don't make the players play as the antagonist against the PC they love and are invested in...

>>36602850
>One of the many reasons why when you do PoV shifts, you don't make the players play as the antagonist against the PC they love and are invested in...
Thats the main reason why I'm not finding this anywhere near as enjoyable as playing as Laura, despite how awesome this guy is, it just feels wrong and bad.

>>36602839
>ahead of his feelings

The true issue here is Dagon Core's 'don't fuck with us' reputation, and potentially the loyalty of the Hounds.

>>36602874
Well I imagine the same could be said of his friends who he used as rungs

>>36602829
>>36602839
As voted for earlier this thread, The Director was pretty damned fond of Qui. Besides, company to preserve the company rep he cannot let anyone get away with killing one of their assets. If he lets her live, it must be for a fate worse than death to set an example for others.

>>36602892
>If he lets her live, it must be for a fate worse than death to set an example for others.
Well she's already going through that so I don't think he can do much in that department.

Also it would be a massive dick move for Haiku to make us play through that, this interlude gets more and more uncomfortable with every update.

>>36602906
>Also it would be a massive dick move for Haiku to make us play through that, this interlude gets more and more uncomfortable with every update.
How? This is a great opportunity to set up an interesting nemesis for Laura.

>>36602906
Yeah I'm not in this to be forced to torture and kill the character I got invested in and cared about, the character I played this quest through, who I saw this world through and got attached to in some sick twist.

>>36602933
Go read Text Adventure Quest Rogue and Psion, and how they came to a head and ended, because thats what this is starting to feel like, and that is a bad thing.

>>36602823
'Cause she's our almost surrogate granddaughter's friend and she can fill the plce Qui left in our organization?
The fact she killed him only means she gets a not-as-good deal as she would otherwise.
The fact we would be able to give her shit jobs and suicide deliveries is a bonus.

>>36602939
>Go read Text Adventure Quest Rogue and Psion
Can't be arsed to archive dive. That's why I drop all quests I fall behind on.

Playing two sides up against each other can be a great roleplaying experience, if you can keep the metaknowledge in check, and think about what is best for the story instead of what is the optimal outcome for the characters.

>>36602984
>Playing two sides up against each other can be a great roleplaying experience
No, no it can't, and don't argue otherwise without actually looking at that example to see why it is so.

>>36602999
>No, no it can't, and don't argue otherwise without actually looking at that example to see why it is so.
Was a lot of fun in Omnipotence Quest until waifu faggotry broke it.

>>36602999
>no it can't

If you have a shit group. It's absolutely based if you have a good group and a GM that are on the same page.

Quest players aren't a great group for it. I hope HD has a fucking clue what kind of fire he's playing with here.

>>36602984
>if you can keep the metaknowledge in check, and think about what is best for the story instead of what is the optimal outcome for the characters.
You can't do that with the same players, its just not possible.

>Playing two sides up against each other can be a great roleplaying experience
I've had DMs try it, I've had damn good DMs, hell the best one I've ever had tried it, and it ended in tears. It just does not go well at all. There is no faster way to divide up your players and make them hate each other and you for no goddamned reason at all. It's been the fastest death of games I've been in when a DM thought it would be neat to add in some drama to things and played the characters against each other, and I've seen it done a lot of different ways, and it will never work, just for the sheer fact that that is not what the players signed up for, not what they play for, not why they turn up. Doing that to your players is spiting in their faces.

>>36603021
>Quest players aren't a great group for it.
Another reason why it won't work, its exacerbated in quests, meaning any potential issues are pretty much going to happen 100%.
>I hope HD has a fucking clue what kind of fire he's playing with here.
I hope so too, but I get the feeling he doesn't, and that worries me something fierce.

>>36603020
Man I miss Vedibere's quests, they were damn good. Even when the waifu faggotry started with that elf it was still awesome fun.

I'm still sad Void Quest just got a note dump and abandoned and never concluded

>>36603049
Omnipotence didn't even get that, as far as I recall. It just abruptly ended on a cliffhanger. Was the first quest I participated in.

>>36603077
Yeah it was a sad fate, though everynow and then I go and reread it just for the bits with the elf waifu, they warm my cold dead heart. My first quest was Sororitas Quest, another that suffered such a fate.

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>>36602774

"Is it the courier who killed Qui?" you ask, shipping containers flying past in a grayed-out rainbow of commerce as the expert rider weaves her way along the quay.

After that, you ride in silence through the Telchine harbor. Eliza's almost out of the harbor's titanic main gate before she finally gives an answer.

"Yeah," she says, in a soft voice you struggle to catch, even through your earpiece, "she's my oldest friend, and I sold her out to the Hounds," then in a half-scream that almost makes you clamp a hand over your ear, "do you know what they're going to do to her?"

"I can imagine," you say, in a low, carefully measured voice as you blast through the gates, clinging to your best rider, "I'm not happy with them either," you tell her, trying to sound sympathetic. Of course, you're not happy with them because they messed up the harbor job, but that's not what she wants to hear.

The bike sweeps across a main road, slicing through the thick traffic like an old-style torpedo boat breaking through the waves, massed ranks of raindrops throwing themselves to ritual suicide on it, on her, on you. Fallen from the sky, just to sacrifice themselves to juggernaut.

You think about contacting the Hounds, but you know it would be useless. The have a nasty habit of ignoring any inconvenient communications from on high. Reminds you a bit of yourself, if you're being honest.

>That's why we're going after them. She's more fun alive than spread across a room.
>I'm proud of what you did
>I understand why it was hard for you to tell me
>We've all had to do something like that
>Thanks for telling me
>You're riding well today
>Write In

>>36603159
>>I understand why it was hard for you to tell me
>That's why we're going after them. She's worth more to us alive than spread across a room.

>>36603159
>We've all had to do something like that
It's never easy, but when someone undermines our authority we have to stand firm and crush them like the meaningless bugs they are.

>>36603159
>>36603175
I'll second this.

Qui was a valuable Asset, and he left a hole in the team, and what better way to say you don't fuck with us than making you work for us and do our dirty work, against those you care about. An odd kind of poetic justice that.

>>36603183
>like the meaningless bugs they are.
Well if they were meaningless then Erik wouldn't be thinking so strongly of them all the time. It's pretty damn clear they've a hell of a lot of meaning to him.

>>36603159
>I understand why it was hard for you to tell me
>Thanks for telling me
>Write In
"You personal opinion, off the record, if you were the one calling the shots right now, what would your call be on this situation?"

>>36603159
>We've all had to do something like that
>>36603175
>>36603191
>because putting the woman who killed Qui on a team with the Hounds won't end badly

I'm thinking friendly fire incident, are you thinking friendly fire incident?

>>36603159
>>Thanks for telling me
>That's why we're going after them. She's more fun alive than spread across a room.
>I'm proud of what you did

>>36603159
"If I asked you to pull the trigger, would you do it?"

>>36603220
I'm thinking we keel-haul them with the Thetis for fucking things up so goddamned much, they need to learn to follow orders and respect us as their boss and do what the fuck we tell them to.

So if we need to humble them by putting the person who killed their friend in the same team as them, then they can suck it up.

>>36603250
Sounds like a great way to have "friendly fire"

>>36603250
>Eliza hides shit from us
>we comfort her and bitch out Ed, who called up to feed us good info
>this courier kills one of our assets
>the Hounds go after her to preserve our reputation
>we should keelhaul the Hounds

Please.

>>36603322
It's been pretty clearly established that Erik doesn't have his head screwed on straight. Probably from all those friends he hung out to dry as he climbed through the corp. I can easily imagine him seeing Eliza as a protege and someone to guide and mentor, so she doesn't make the same mistakes he did, so she doesn't fuck up her life like he did. It's actually a pretty common thing among high power directors and executives.

>>36603322
The playerbase just went full retard with this character, nothing has to make any sense anymore. Just do stuff for the lulz.

>>36603373
nah, i can see it making sense like >>36603358 said, though the fits of violence and crazy anger towards the accountant and Ed were kind of odd but funny

>>36603373
>playerbase went full retard
>implying HD wasn't asking for it

>>36590075
>have fun and go completely nuts

I'm disappointed that our solution to men having issues is beating the tar out of them, but we go to pieces over a crying girl.

>>36603408
>I'm disappointed that our solution to men having issues is beating the tar out of them, but we go to pieces over a crying girl.
Like a real manly man

>>36603322
>Eliza hides shit from us. It's cool, we understand. No one wants to sell out his friend to a Megacorp's death squad

>we comfort her and bitch out Ed because he said we were railing our subordinate righ after we finished comforting her because she was this close to an emotional breakdown. Also, she's so young she could be our granddaughter. You don't fuck your granddaughter.

>We should keelhaul the Hounds because they fucked up their jobs. Both of them. The courier wasn't even hiding herself and they still needed help from her best friend just to find the damn girl.

>>36603388
The accountant was the first estableshed character trait. Tough love and school of hard knocks. Then he got sentimental and mourned Qui, become a kind supporting grandfather for Eliza, before turning into a hardass who chewed out Ed for doing his job.

>>36603420
>Like a real manly man
You mean like a pussy whipped bitch?

>>36603408
>I'm disappointed that our solution to men having issues is beating the tar out of them, but we go to pieces over a crying girl.
Beating the tar out of women only works on a few types of woman who are suffering very specific kinds of problem.
This wasn't something we could punch out, and that's why we are out of our depth.

>>36603446
Yeah, like a manly man, exactly.

>yfw you know execs who are a mirror image of this guy, except without the license to cause mayhem and destruction and the black budget

>>36603456
Though that would work against that Lady in white with the sword.

>>36603431
It's like a second midlife crisis.

>>36603456
>>This wasn't something we could punch out, and that's why we are out of our depth.
>Implying giving her the treatment we gave the accountant wouldn't have been the best solution

>>36603480
I'm half expecting him to receive a vision from the souls of Rock stars who sold their souls to the devil.

>>36603596
Will they tell him to make tender and sweet love to his protege on his desk after securing her friends employment as punishment?

>>36603488
>Implying giving her the treatment we gave the accountant wouldn't have been the best solution
>Implying that wouldn't motivate her to betray us as soon as possible to save her best friend.

>>36603613
>Implying the rush of adrenaline wouldn't awaken a newfound love for the work she does
>Implying it wouldn't make her a better asset

>>36603612
Some of them. Others would tell him to make sweet and tender love to his protégé while you both take turns Dominating the courier until she can't walk straight for a week.

>>36603628
the only thing that would make her a better asset is positive reinforcement and not murdering her friend, that would just make her bitter and hateful towards us, and ruin her productivity

>>36603650
I like these rockstars.

>>36603659
Yeah, carrot and stick only works if there is a carrot. Endless stick just makes them turn on you and bury you in a shallow grave.

>>36603628
>Implying the rush of adrenaline wouldn't make her question her life until then in high speed.
>Implying this Light speed Navel-gazing session wouldn't make her realize how much she regrets betraying her best friend, making her vow to save her no matter what.

>>36603659
>>36603692
If she is going to betray us over some "friend" she is not worth her sallary. She has to learn that she belongs the the company now. She is a grown woman and it is demeaning to mollycoddle her like this.

>>36603159

"That's why we're going after them," you tell her, wondering whether you're doing it to pull them off their quarry before they can savage it out of a kind impulse, or because you want to get her in your clutches unspoiled, so you can break her yourself.

Unanswering, she pours on more speed as the rain sheets down on you. Taillights blur into red smears as the bike stabs through the gaps between vehicles. Seems like your comment was motivational, if half-assuredly duplicitous.

You're getting better at this social interaction thing as your headache finally vanishes. Maybe the cold rain has something to do with it.

"I understand why it was hard to do it, and even harder for you to tell me," you say, your tight hug giving no warmth, and probably no comfort. Not that your artificial arms would give any warmth even if she wasn't wearing the armor, "we've all had to do something like that," or several somethings, "thanks for telling me, even though it hurt."

Still no response, as she throws the bike around a curve in a nearly-lethal demonstration of the bleeding edge of bike technology. You head misses a speeding hauler by inches, and you catch a whiff of something chemical, probably its cargo, before Eliza's blasting down another straightaway.

"If you were the one calling the shots right now," you ask lightly, "what would you do?"

"I'm not," you hear in your ear, words escaped between clenched teeth, "you are."

"And would you pull the trigger if I asked you to?" you ask, teeth clenched as the cold rain pours down on you, a thousand icy needles splashing on you, soaking your hair, your coat, everything.

The question hangs in the air, hovering over the speeding bike like an angel of death waiting to snag souls from the inevitable crash. Your earpiece begins beeping, an incoming call.

>Take it, it's probably the Hounds
>Take it, it's probably Ed with more information
>Ignore it, this is important
>Write In

>>36603710
>Take it, it's probably the Hounds

>>36603707
That's just looking at things the wrong way.

>>36603710
>Write In
"Knowing my life and what I've done, if I had a second chance, I wouldn't."
then
>Take it, it's probably the Hounds

>>36603710
>>Write In
"If theres one thing I can teach you, it should be to not make the same mistakes I have."
>Take it, it's probably the Hounds

>>36603710
>Take it, it's probably Ed with more information

We need all the info we can get.

>>36603710
>Take it, it's probably the Hounds
You have one chance to tell me why you haven't fucked this up.

>>36603710
>Take it, it's probably the Hounds
Before taking the call tell her.
>The answer to that question is what separates people like me, who climb to the top of the ladder, and all the rest. The real question is if you can live with yourself after you pull the trigger. Some days, even I'm not sure if I can.

>>36603826
>But on those days, I remember I live on the top of the city with bar full of booze

>>36603860
>But unfortunately the booze can only do so much.

>>36603860
Well from what we've seen of him in those moments, he does not think its all that worthwhile.

>>36603710
>Take it, it's probably Ed with more information

I'd like it to be the Hounds, I just don't think that's plausible.

Well I've got to head off to work now, don't fuck everything up anons, I expect to see us making sweet love to Eliza while she's on top of Laura who is strapped down to our desk by the time I get back and catch up. Thanks for the thread so far Haiku.

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>>36603710

"One answer to that question gets you further up the ladder," you mumble at her, "but who knows if it's the right one, or a silly mistake. Anyway, I asked what call YOU would make," you say, fumbling with your phone inside a jacket pocket, "think about it while I take this."

The connection comes to life in your ear, a scratchy, probably monitored channel. Even wind blowing over the mike. "Boss," you hear, in Sim's unmistakable tones, colored as the whine of a dog who's pretty sure it's done something to offend its master.

"You have one chance to tell me why you haven't fucked this up," you say, cutting him off at the knees, "is Andy on the line too?"

"Right here, Ray," he answers, more confident than his brother, "we found the courier's room, but the bird's flown. Big things going down here in Plutonix, a theft at the Old City Digsite, full-on biohazard alert."

"God fucking dammit," you throw over the wire at the bastard's smile, "so you didn't even catch her, even after throwing the harbor job away? What kind of dog are you?"

"We're locked down here," he says, yelling over the wind, "unless we want to swallow seeds or have all Plutonix come down on us like a wasp's nest. Their choppers are swarming the sector. Got a great view of the show from this rooftop, though."

"Looks like they're chasing someone running for Vulnex," Sim chimes back in, "if that's any use."

That's probably who you're after. If Plutonix is locking down, the fastest way is definitely cutting through Juptek sector, but rushing into another mega's sector on a machine like this might be seen as hostile, and they're not busy.

On the other hand, you could try to blast through Plutonix sector while they're distracted by the lockdown, although they're already mobilizing.

And there's always the risk of the nanoplague.

Neither option sounds that good, especially not in this damp cold.

>>36604158

>I thought you were hounds, not bitches. Get down there and get me something good.
>Stay where you are and observe. Try not to get caught.
>Write In

Second Choice Set:

>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, via Juptek
>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, straight through Plutonix

>>36604177
>Keep eyes on her, but don't take any unnecessary risks

>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, via Juptek

>>36604177
>Stay where you are and observe. Try not to get caught.
>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, straight through Plutonix

>>36604177
>>Stay where you are and observe. Try not to get caught.
>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, via Juptek

>>36604177
>Get me something good
They're hounds, they should bring us back something.

Nice dubs.

>>36604177
>Stay where you are and observe. Try not to get caught.
>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, via Juptek

>>36604177
>>Stay where you are and observe. Try not to get caught.
>Eliza, we're headed for Vulnex, via Juptek

>>36604158
>>36604221
I support this, they are hounds, they can observe one courier.

>>36604158

"Sit tight," you tell them, in clipped, clear tones, "and try not to get caught."

"Yes Boss" Sim tells you, signing off.

"We'll keep ya posted," Andy says cheerfully, and cuts the connection.

God, you wish they'd stayed on the harbor case, and not tried to rush it. They're not bad investigators when they try.

"Eliza," you say, nestling into her hard armor shell to hide from the rain, "head for Vulnex. Cut through Juptek. The Hounds missed your friend, but it looks like she's on the run from Plutonix too."

The motorcycle screams through a wide turn, cutting through lane after lane of traffic, drawing long honks and slack-jawed stares from hauler drivers, wheels spraying up a thick sheet of water from the road.

Again, you're awed by Eliza's complete control of her bike, as if it's truly an extension of her self. You could understand if she was wired, plugged straight into the machine, but she's an all-natural girl.

And you can respect that, even if it's not the choice you made.

Well, that was a choice between these anvil-hard fists or no arms at all, you think, staring idly at the blurred taillights through the raindrops bleeding down your sunglasses.

Not much of a choice, really.

>So, about that question I asked earlier
>Happy to hear the Hounds didn't get to your friend?
>Stay silent
>Write in

>>36604483
>Did you figure out your answer yet?

>>36604483
>Stay silent

>>36604483
>What can you tell me about your friend? She must be hardcore if she managed to kill Qui.

>>36604509
>>36604483
Seconding

>>36604483
I second >>36604530

>>36604483
>Stay silent
She'll talk when she has an answer.

Also, interlude MC is now cyberpunk Abaddon in my mind

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>>36604483

"You figure out an answer yet?" you ask the slick wet helmet in front of you, as the motorcycle rockets up an onramp.

The dour rain sluices down, running over the haulers, the few cars, splashing on the crumbling concrete highway walls. Christ, why'd we ever think it was a good idea to grab what we could of Kronocorp's territory? We're spread too thin - can barely keep our roads repaired.

"I'd," Eliza begins, then you hear her take a deep breath as she guides the bike unerringly into the stream of highway traffic flowing toward Juptek sector, "I'd chase her down. She killed Qui, and she wasn't even bothered by it, all cheerful on the phone when I talked to her. What are we if we can't even avenge our own?"

You wonder if Eliza's telling you the truth, or just spouting her most palatable rationalizations. They're not bad points, but is her heart in them? There's no way to really know.

There's no way to get inside her head.

"We're nothing," you respond, with a hard edge to your voice as she lanesplits ruthlessly, placing your knees at the mercy of a hauler driver's nervous twitches, "if we can't do it for our own, how could we hope to do it anyone else? I'm sorry about your friend, Eliza," you say, more gently, "you don't have to watch."

"That'll make it difficult to pull the trigger," she tells you, her voice level, the bike thrusting up to even higher speeds as you burst into Juptek sector.

You can see the difference immediately. The highway's in better repair, the buildings are glowing with light, and the rain's even starting to clear up.

That last one has to be your imagination. The sector lines shouldn't have any effect on the weather.

>Write In

Secondary Choice:

>Stay on the highway - conspicuous but quick
>Take the surface streets - a little slower, but less obvious

>>36605023
>>Stay on the highway - conspicuous but quick
Gotta go fast

>>36605023
Write-in what?

>Stay on the highway - conspicuous but quick

>>36605091
>write-in what?

Any response to Eliza's statement.

>>36605023
>Keep quiet for now
>Stay on the highway - conspicuous but quick

>>36605116
On second thought, give her a slight chuckle.

>>36605023
>Write in
> give a small smile
>Stay on highway

>>36605023

You chuckle slightly, then lapse back into silence as Eliza pushes her machine even farther, the powerful turbine shoving it past other traffic as if the haulers were standing still. The droplets fly from your glasses, and the harsh wind rapidly dries your soaked clothes.

Glancing toward Vulnex sector, you can see the sun dropping toward a bank of red clouds, in a series of short blinking slices seen between office buildings. Juptek does have an active startup culture doesn't it?

There are some people who just don't function well within the confines of megacorp structure, or who want to do research too risky for any of the megas to touch directly. However, you think with a grin, and the wind blasts through your teeth, those are the people with the ideas worth pursuing, and the drive to complete them. The endless cycle of the startup system was born to harvest those ideas.

And Juptek is the only one of the megas that actively embraces it, evidenced by the 'business district' being something more than Juptek's HQ. The others do engage in it from time to time, you admit, squinting your eyes down the highway, as Eliza weaves the motorcyle through a small legion of tight-packed haulers, but Juptek's the only one with a carefully tended garden of startups.

An innovator, usually already an employee of an existing mega, gathers backing for their idea, quits, and rents out a floor in some dilapidated old building with a corner store in the first floor. Then they, and whatever team their genius manages to attract, whip the idea into shape, and pitch it to the megas, one of which buys the startup, absorbing its employees until they're tired of corp life again.

The the cycle starts anew.

That all assumes, you think with a wry smile, that the project doesn't flop, get stolen, blow up & take the upper half of the office building with it, or eat its creators. You've seen all of those, some up close and far too personal, others from a safe distance.

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>>36605709

Jaunting through Juptek sector toward Vulnex is the work of a silent ten minutes, a testament to Eliza's speed and skill. No pursuit even comes close to catching you, although a couple of motorcycle cops try. Traffic thins as you near the edge of Juptek sector, even though haulers should be doing a brisk business in the fruits of Vulnex's factories.

The high office buildings gradually turn to squat manufacturing facilities and brick tenements as you cross the Juptek/Vulnex border, still without meeting any real opposition. You're slightly disappointed.

A fight would have been interesting, at least.

You haven't visited Vulnex sector in years, but you don't remember it being quite this boring. The streets are eerily empty, yawning avenues flanked by frowning buildings, windows staring accusatorily at each other.

Biohazard lockdown.

>You seeing anything strange, Eliza?
>Contact the Hounds
>Contact Ed
>Contact a local info broker
>Write In

>>36605906
>Contact Ed
>"Do you have any info on what's happening in Vulnex right now?"
If we are snowed out, we should probably talk to Eliza

>>36605906
>You seeing anything strange, Eliza?

>Contact the Hounds

>>36605906
>Contact the Hounds

>>36605906
>Contact a local info broker

>>36605906
>>Contact a local info broker

>>36605906
>Contact a local info broker

>META POST

Things have come up, and we're nearing the bump limit already, so I'm going to call the thread here.

It was fun to run, as usual, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

The next interlude thread should be the last one.

>SESSION STATS:

PROFESSIONAL RANKING: COMPLICIT!
BONUS OBJECTIVES CLEARED: Drowning Your Sorrow; Fists Of Fury; Cheap Sunglasses; A Sympathetic Ear; Not Your Thing I; Reach Out And Touch Somebody; Heavily Ed-ited; Out Of The Water; Not Your Thing II; I Can Almost Hear; Freely Given; Not Your Thing III
STYLE POINTS: 1300

OVERALL RANKING: BANKED!


TOTAL STYLE POINTS: 2400


>STUFF

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

Archive (for figuring out how we got here): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle%20Courier%20Quest

Questions (they make me happy): http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

>OTHER STUFF

>>36602850
>>36602858
>>36602939
>>36603043

Raynard didn't appear in Laura's version of these events (threads 9 & 10), so it's safe to assume you're not going to encounter her.

>>36606859
Thanks for the thread.

>>36606859
> Hitting every bonus objective
Wooo!

...when do we level up?

>>36606859
We're only going to find her burnt corpse, and rebuild her into Laura 2.0 so we can exact vengeance on her. And then recruit her because anybody who can take down Qui surely has some potential.

>>36606859
Thanks for running.
Are we returning to Laura the thread after next?

>>36606915
>implying Raynard isn't a max-level character

Also, I stopped counting missed objectives when I went to the DMC style scoring system.

You missed a ton of ryona-based cheevos.

>>36607009
LAURA I implies a LAURA II, doesn't it?

>>36607043
Wil we get chances to fight in CURAHZEE combat After Laura gets the sweet cyborg upgrades that she will doubtlessly need to survive?
Will we finally get to use a Motorcycle as a weapon after DMC3 teased us with it in that one cutscene?

>>36607137
>sweet cyborg upgrades
Goddamn it. I wanted all natural.

>>36607394
Kinda hard to be All Natural when half your flesh became mononuclear edged blades of carbon.
And then cleansed in flames.

>>36607507
We don't know the full extent of the damages yet, but I guess that hospital bill will be a lot more than she can handle if the employer do not cover for the damages.

>>36607137
>>36607394
>>36607507
You'll get a choice, of course. And, as some of the characters you've already met show, it's certainly possible to survive as an all-natural.

>>36608010
For me I guess that depends how extensive her injuries are. If Laura lost an eye or an arm she'd need cybernetics to continue her job.

>>36608010
I don't care if we are a full cyborg or an all natural girl, as long as we get to pull crazy combos with a Motorcycle.

Hey just saw this quest for the first time. Since this seems to be a non-standard thread, could a friendly anon give me a quick rundown on what the quest is usually like?

Is it kinda similar to DAQ?

>>36608847
>>36608913
I thougth I was in another thread, nvm.

>>36608847
A good mix of Rule-of-cool, GOTTAGOFAST, OHSHITOHSHITOHSHIT, shadowruns and mechanophilia. Set in a grim future city controlled by various mega corporations.

>>36608935
what were you talking about?

>>36609010
See >>36608521

>>36608847
Couriering with a motorcycle in a cyberpunk dystopia. The previous threads covered three jobs, some info-brokerage, stiffing the aforementioned Qui person and a run-in with Dagon Core, with the last courier job getting the MC infected with deadly nanomachines. This interlude is giving us a view from skyscrapers instead of street level.