>>37001563

You walk back toward the restaurant as you tuck your red phone away. A quick glance at your motorcycle shows that nobody's messed with it - it's still chained up securely. The neon lightning bolt sandwiched between two glowing buns is still hanging out into the street.

This is going to be a hot extraction, against whoever took out the original transport, you think, resting your hand on Greased Lightning's door. The restaurant's rocking music barely filters through the thick metal.

If it's going to be that dangerous, you might want some extra muscle, and there's a nice dark slab of it waiting for you at a table in there. Of course you'll need to offer him a healthy cut, but with the kind of numbers you're talking, thirty percent's probably good enough. You could even go up to forty.

But do you really want him along for this? A passenger will slow you down, and if it's a big package, there might not be enough room on your bike.

And can you really trust this guy with your life for a thirty percent cut? All you know about him is that he's a hired goon for Dr. Morrison, and you're not sure what side he's on.

Hell, you're not sure what all the sides are at this point. There's more going on here than simple corp against corp stuff, you think as you push open the door.

The smell of burgers and fries hits you like pavement against a failed businessman's face as the music assaults your ears. It's good and loud, the way rock was meant to be played, or so you've heard its aficionados say.

You let it wash over you and stride toward Ryan's table.

He's finishing off last of your fries. Even wore a bulletproof vest on his day off, and probably has half an armory stashed somewhere in his coat.

Dead weight, or your best hope of making it through the next job in one piece?

>Tell him you've got to go, work calls
>Offer him a cut to come along
>Write In

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>>37001573
>META POST

Wait, didn't you already have this vote?

According to my count from the archives, that vote tied, since I'm not so sanguine about counting "disregard my previous vote" when it's done over such a long period of time.

Neither choice automatically leads to a Bad End.

In other news, it's good to be back.

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

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

(Suptg seems to be down right now, so https://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/Cyberpunk%20Motorcycle/tripcode/%21%21njYoOR0XpOO/type/op/filter/text/ should get you the archived main quest threads, and https://archive.moe/tg/search/subject/CMC/tripcode/%21%21njYoOR0XpOO/type/op/filter/text/ should get you the interludes.)

Megacorps & Locations: http://pastebin.com/e0ZjmVJL
(More info pastebins should come eventually. There are too many moving parts to keep track of otherwise.)

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

>LAST SESSION'S STATS:

PROFESSIONAL RANKING: ACCOUNTED!
BONUS OBJECTIVES CLEARED: Asking The Important Questions II; Who You Gonna Call?; The Traditional Question I; Let's Do Lunch; Raging Red; Reinforced Frame; Banked; Calm As A Clam; Deep Thoughts; 500 Spray Cans Of Paint On The Wall; Boiguhs; Rumors Of My Demise II; Common Ground; Vampires?; Lost It To My Bike; In It To Win It I
STYLE POINTS: 2000

OVERALL RANKING: SEQUESTRATE!


TOTAL STYLE POINTS: 11000

>>37001573
>[x] Tell him you've got to go, work calls

Dude knows what we do for a living, so he'll understand if we need to jet. Also as nice as he is, it still feels a bit too early to take sidekicks, especially what happened with that kid earlier.

>>37001683
hey, welcome back

>>37001573
>Tell him you've got to go, work calls
we can do it

>>37001573
>tell him you've got to go, work calls

Its tempting to bring him, but we gotta get back on this iron horse, and go for it. Who knows, maybe we got Jensen grade carbon arm blades now.

>>37001839
Haiku's been pretty clear that we weren't aug'd.

>>37001573
>Tell him you've got to go, work calls

>>37001850
I know we chose not to be aug'd, but we were infected with a nanoplague that turned organic matter into eviscerating carbon blades. I'd say for the sake of danger trading some tissue for a blade could be useful...and awesome.

But you're right, might have missed that from the archives. Besides, haiku has bamboozled us before. Not that I mind.

>>37001902
I believe, though I don't remember exactly where, Haiku mentioned that he wouldn't put it up to a vote, only to disregard our opinions on the issue anyway.

>>37001573
>Tell him you've got to go, work calls
>Ask about meeting up later

>>37001923
That's fair enough. I mean, I'm glad to hear that. Very few rails here. I can't help but think that technically it would still be an organic derivative. But I'm just being autistic and a stickler for details, so carry on.

'Sides, I like guns more than blades.

>>37001573

He looks up as you close in on the table, half a French fry between his fingers.

"Sorry," you tell him, one hand resting on the table, "but I'm going to have to cut this short."

"That's what the rabbi said," he says, grinning, white teeth shining in his dark face, "or so they tell me."

That one kind of flies by you, taking wing into the rock-filled air.

"Got another job," you tell him, picking up your helmet from the table, "maybe we won't get interrupted next time."

"I'd just like there to be a next time, Laura," he says, standing up as you put on the shiny red helmet, "good luck on the job. Am I going to see this one on the news?"

"Hopefully not," you tell him, turning toward the door.

The glossy magazine covers stare down as you make for the exit. You don't have time for a long goodbye, and you don't mean enough to each other to justify one. Some singer's going on about the open road over the blast of an electric guitar as you push through the door.

Greased Lightning, huh.

Interesting place, and the food's good, you think, unchaining your bike. Music's a bit loud, but maybe that's how it should be.

Then it's off to the Nepcor border.

>Take surface streets
>Take the highway
>Write in

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>37002146
>>Take the highway

>>37002146
>Take the highway

>>37002146
>Take the highway

Anyone know what the hell is up with suptg?

>>37002146
>Take the highway

>>37002146
>Write in
Call the Nepcor cop we know.

>>37002188
server issues

>>37002146
>Take the highway

We got places to go, shit to fuck up, FIREWALL THE THROTTLE

>>37002146

It's great to be on your bike again, feeling the exhilaration of speed. Weaving down the avenue, dodging between cars and haulers, this is the life.

The office buildings fly by, nondescript upper windows over the neon signs of the shops and restaurants on the ground floor. Vertical. Efficient, but livable.

Blurring background, whipping past.

You make it up the nearest highway onramp and open up the throttle. You've got places to be and a package to grab.

The location the contact gave you marks out a nice big circle on your helmet display map. He probably didn't want to be too specific - even with the one-time code, someone's going to crack the message soon.

You'll have to message him again for the tracking number and package description - getting that info after you arrive will give you a good lead over anyone who's sniffing and decrypting it.

You're the fastest, and reddest thing on the road today, zipping around other traffic on the highway. You wonder for a second whether those things could be related, then dismiss the notion. The full rebuild and tune-up definitely have more to do with your speed than the new color.

Although the matching crimson bike and riding suit combo is pretty sharp.

>Call somebody on the way
>Ride straight to the destination

Contacts list: R.Q. (???), Concierge (???), Ryan (guard, just lunched with him), Paul (Vulnex info broker's assistant), James (Nepcor cop), Arty (Plutonix grunt), Eliza (old friend, Nepcor Asset, already called today), Thomson (Plutonix info broker, drunk), Alice (Syfer Systems Research Exec), Raynard (Nepcor Exec)

>>37002629
>Ride straight to the destination

>>37002629
>Ride straight to the destination

>>37002629
>Ride straight to the destination

>>37002629
I hope we can have another race with our friend in blue

>>37002629
>>Ride straight to the destination

>>37002629
>>Call somebody on the way
>Paul

>>37002938
>Paulfags finally arrived
you know he's the villain, right?

>>37002962
What?

I just want info on the job going down, and not from a drunk

>>37002629

You could call someone to pass the time, but the trip's short, and you decide to concentrate on making it shorter.

The sun beats down on you as you ride. It's still unseasonably warm today, but the leather riding suit is more breathable then you'd anticipated.

But really, it's the middle of winter. It's not supposed to be hot out.

Gradually, the buildings get grayer, dingier, fewer lighted windows. You pass an unfixed gap in the highway guardrails.

Next stop, Nepcor sector.

Without warning, what little sky you can see between the buildings fills with clouds. A few droplets splatter on your helmet, then you're riding through a full-on rainstorm.

You hate this place. Seems to rain every time you come here.

The water sluices off of the riding suit, better protection than you had last time you had to come to the sector. But it's still cold.

A little refreshing after the day's warmth, but you're still not a fan.

It'll be bone-chilling in half an hour, going by your experience.

You hit the outer radius of the search zone, and a message auto-sends to your client. Within seconds, you have a reply. In a couple of minutes, your phone's decoded it with another one-time code.

There's a set of bars beside your map now, signal strength from the package's transmitter. Of course, only one of them's filled.

You've got two options.

Drive back and forth through the search zone, with the little indicator flashing 'warmer' or 'colder' at you like a children's game, trying to close it by dead reckoning.

Or you could get readings at three spots near the edge of the zone, and triangulate the transmitter's position. Won't help much if its moving very quickly, though.

>Hot-or-cold method
>Triangulation

>>37003177
>Triangulation
We can do blind guessing if this fails.

>>37003177
>Triangulation

>>37003177
>Triangulation

>>37003177
>Triangulation
science, bitch!

>>37003177
>Hot-or-cold method
Lets play this by ear.

>>37003177

>>37003342
what

>>37003342
>this comment redacted by the corps

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>>37003177

If the package was moving fast on its own, they wouldn't need you, now would they?

Triangulation should at least get you close, narrow down the search area some. You cruise down an off ramp, then pull off to the side.

Time to get better acquainted with your new phone. You remember the old one had a triangulation function on it. They wouldn't downgrade you, would they?

You sit there, astride your bike on the curb, menus flickering across the inside of your helmet. Would it be in 'Maps'?

No.

You cycle through two or three menus before happening across 'Courier Tools'. From the UI difference, it looks like a jammed-in addon. But it's got a triangulation function, and a few other fun things. Most of them could have been put in other menus, but you've finally found them, so you're not complaining.

>'Network Sniffer'
>'Bug Finder'
>'Multi-Level Map Manager'
>'Law Enforcement Proximity Detector'
>'Signal Triangulation'

And a few others.

On a whim, you turn on a function that claims to show how close the cops are. You'll have to try the others out later.

Triangulation it is, with this impromptu parking spot as the first point.

Only five minutes or so wasted fiddling with your phone in the cold rain, watching the water run down the stained side of the concrete wall next to you. But now you've got a little dot on your map, the first point of your package-tracking adventure.

>Ride fast for the next point - Gotta make fast work of this
>Take it easy toward the next point - Don't want to attract too much attention

>>37003625
>Take it easy toward the next point - Don't want to attract too much attention

>>37003625
>Ride fast for the next point - Gotta make fast work of this

>>37003625
>Ride fast for the next point - Gotta make fast work of this
Damn the torpedoes and all that jazz, We're a courier, not the USPS.

>>37003625
>Take it easy toward the next point - Don't want to attract too much attention

>>37003625
>Take it easy toward the next point - Don't want to attract too much attention

>>37003625
>Ride fast for the next point - Gotta make fast work of this
FUCK YES.

>>37003625
>Ride fast for the next point - Gotta make fast work of this

Considering the 'Go Fast Red' color of the bike and leathers, i doubt subtlety is possible.

>>37003625

New bike, new outfit, probably new dientifiers too, if you had to guess.

You're a new person, and you don't have a record in Nepcor sector.

Yet.

No use blowing it so early.

You take it easy toward the next point, just another vehicle on the wet cracked pavement. The traffic is mostly haulers, carrying cargo containers to and from the ports, or the sector's many warehouses. This part of the sector seems to be mostly run-down tenements, so traffic is light.

The tracker's signal strength rises and falls bit by bit. You're not sure if it's distance, or the buildings getting in the way of the signal. The cop detector isn't reading very high. There are probably a few around, between you and the horizon the buildings are blocking.

You wonder for a moment about James. He's the most recent anti-auger you've met, although he seems to base it on a gut dislike, rather than some ideology.

But who cares about that? You think to yourself as you sit at a stoplight, rain drizzling from the light's housing. The man can ride and maintain a bike, and that's what really matters.

A few minutes of cold gray riding later, you punch in the second point in front of a dreary and forbidding warehouse that's seen better days. Its front is partially concrete, the remnants of a tenement that used to stand there. The rest is standard steel construction, slightly rusted around the edges. Done back when Nepcor sector still repaired itself, you guess. If that building had collapsed now, it would lie there festering, an unhealed wound in the city.

You wonder what happened that knocked one building down, but spared everything around it.

Not that you really care, as you shove off for the third point. The triangulation algorithm has marked out some possible locations, and it's taking multiple third points as you ride along. The probable search area shrinks second by second.

huehue just realized that our mystery employer only chose red for us is because he plays orks

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>>37004476

>>37004476
Genius!

>>37004476
how didn't i see that coming?

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>>37004464

Of course, it's only going to be so accurate. The buildings reflect and distort the signals, after all. That's why there are so many antennas in the city - any decent communication network needs a thousand relays.

You glance up into the lead sky and see a small cluster of them, nestled on a building, as you round a corner.

The search area's managably small now, about a sixth of the original rectangle. Even with the delay getting the triangulation set up, it still saved a ton of time.

As you get closer to the marked area, the cop detector starts ramping up. That can't be a good sign, you think, and then you see flashing blue and red lights through the curtain of rain.

It's a police barricade of some sort. Yellow tape between portable bollards, probably re-usable.

A shadowy figure in a long coat is standing in back of it.

>Approach the figure
>Ram through
>Find another way in

>>37004704
>Approach the figure

>>37004704
>Approach the figure

>>37004704
>Approach the figure

>>37004704
>Approach the figure

>>37004704
>That filename

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>>37004704

You hit the brakes and slack off speed as you roll toward the figure. The cop detector is reading 'High Traffic'. Lots of data flying on those bands, you'd guess.

The reason becomes clear once you get close to the figure. It's a drone, wearing a coat and equipped with a headpiece to give it a human silhouette. The head hardly moves, but you can see the mechanical eyes track you slightly.

"KEEP OUT," you hear as you coast to a stop, slightly distorted words barked through a speaker, "RESTRICTED AREA."

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a few other drones, stationed on standby, and a van parked behind the yellow line. Probably their transport vehicle.

Maybe their operator's inside it, but who knows? They might be remotely operated from anywhere.

If you had a jammer, you could force them autonomous, but, well, you don't.

And the drone's still looking at you through the rain with that all-too-glassy stare.

>I'll just be on my way (Find another route in)
>Ram your way in
>Write In

>>37005020
>Ram your way in
Time to use our newly strengthened bike

>>37005020
>Ram your way in

welp.

>>37005020
>I'll just be on my way (Find another route in)

>>37005020
>I'll just be on my way (Find another route in)

>>37005020
>>I'll just be on my way (Find another route in)

>>37005020
>>Ram your way in

>>37005309
Well... now we're tied again

>>37005020

"I'll just be on my way then," you tell the drone, and turn your motorcycle around, muttering about being late for something. Hopefully the operator will buy your act.

Driving away from the zone marked on your map leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you tell yourself you'll be back, just from a direction they don't expect.

As you make the circuit around, scanning your map for back alleys, you decide to look over the package description.

'Low average height, blonde, last seen wearing a suit, probably damaged,' it tells you, 'picture not provided for security reasons.'

That's not a lot to go on, but it's enough to sound ominous. Did you get sent in to retrieve an injured Asset?

Well, at least you negotiated for a ton of bonuses, and you're not having to split with anyone.

But there's still the issue of the route.

>Back alleys
>Enter on foot, through a building
>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing
>Write In

>META POST

Started writing before the last tie.

Anyway, something's coming up. Hopefully won't be gone for more than an hour.

>>37005458
>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing

>>37005458
>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing

>>37005458
>Enter on your bike, through a building

We're not dragging the Asset out by ourselves.

>>37005458
>>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing

>>37005458
>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing

>>37005458
>>Try this 'Multi-Level Map' thing

I wonder whether Eliza is low average height and blond

>>37005458

There's more to the message though, an afterthought addendum: 'fast delivery preferable to undamaged delivery'.

That's odd, but you've got other thing to think about, like how you're going to get into the cordoned-off area. The 'Multi-Level Map' sounds like it might be useful, so you punch through a few menus, faster this time, and enable it.

A crazy spiderweb of lines, colored areas, notes, and dashed lines erupts across your display.

Alright, you think, pulling over onto a sidewalk to figure this thing out, you understand why it wasn't enabled by default. It's superimposing multiple layers of data onto your map - sewers, utility ducts, rooftops, and even notes about potential inaccuracies and other irregularities.

Sure, it's all pretty useful, but the default layout is a cluttered mess, and switching between layers is hard to get used to. It takes you a few minutes to get it set up in a way you can comprehend.

But once you do, it only takes a few seconds to spot a defunct subway line, now pressed into service as a storm sewer, leading into the restricted area. Looks like there's an old station in there, far enough in to not attract the drones' notice, and a maintenance access only a few blocks away from you.

Of course, it's a storm sewer in the middle of a rainstorm, but the rain isn't coming down that hard, and it probably won't flood.

>Write In

I've listed routes/approaches several times already.

>>37007174
Let's go for that subway/drain.

>>37007174
>Where ever there is a package it's a couriers duty take the fastest way there! RAM THOUGH!

>>37007174
Go for it, I'm sure nothing bad could happen in the sewers during a rainstorm

>>37007174
take the back alleys to the maintenance access and be fast about it, we want to be out of the tunnels before the storm really hits

>>37007174
RAM THROUGH!

>>37007395
My brother! if you where any later I'd have changed my vote to backing back ally

>>37007419
Brother, I am glad to have helped you through your time of darkness.

>>37007174
We could go either fast or safe. We don't know who the asset is yet and if she's injured time be even more important.

>RAM THAT SHIT

>>37007174
Use the maintenance entrance.

>>37006843
Eliza's got pink hair IIRC.

I think HD's using Megurine Luka pics for her.

>>37007713
Strawberry Blonde perhaps?

>>37001573
Can we find a jump to get over the drones instead of ramming through?

>>37008062
Woops meant to link to >>37007174 stupid phone

>>37008062
If you want to be BORING!

>>37008062
>Not using a drone as a ramp

>>37008062
Comrade we are in no time for makings of plan

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>>37007174

You aren't entirely comfortable with going into a storm drain during a rainstorm. There's a lot of risk there. You know Matt reinforced your bike's frame, but he sure didn't add a flotation system.

Part of you wants to go back and ram through the drone blockade, show the buckets of bolts who's boss.

But that'd alert everyone in the perimeter, and you can use every second of surprise you get.

In the end, you turn toward the maintenance entrance. The blocks flash by, a river of wet concrete, and soon you're rolling to a stop in front of a chain-link gate set into the side of an alley. It's probably to bring heavy equipment into the storm sewer, but the chain and padlock are rusted.

The sector's weather isn't kind to metal nobody cares about.

It looks like part of the first floor of the building is simply the top of a ramp into the underground. Saves space instead of having it freestanding, probably.

Chain link's a bit too springy for your usual ramming strategy, you think, eyeing it and the unhidden darkness behind the metal diamonds.

>Bolt cutters on the lock
>Wire cutters on the chain link gate itself
>Write In

>>37008291
>Bolt cutters on the lock

>>37008291
>Wire cutters on the chain link gate itself

>>37008291
>>Bolt cutters on the lock
Breaking and entering.

>>37008291
>Bolt cutters on the lock

>>37008291
>Bolt cutters on the lock

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>>37008291

They're in your hands before you're finished thinking about what could be lurking back there behind the fence - a pair of bolt cutters, pulled from their holder inside the new red fairing.

It's an interesting choice of essential gear to stock the bike with, but you're not complaining. You know how to use them - cut the body of the lock, not the hardened hasp. Only idiots would try cutting something with 'hardened' stamped right on the side, instead of the thin-walled box filled with tumblers.

You set the sharp jaws on the lock's body, just like the old Asset showed you. You can remember sweat beading down his bald head as he squeezed the handles together in the summer heat.

You're not nearly as strong as he was, even in his decline, but after some grunting, the bolt cutters' jaws penetrate the lock's case, biting into its delicate internals and splitting it in half.

It only takes a few seconds to work the broken lock free and open the gate.

He did always wear leather gloves, claimed they deadened sounds. Of course, they also protected his hands from the crushed internals of cut locks.

He didn't make a point of talking about that.

You walk your bike through the open gate, then shut it behind you, winding the rusted chain through its links. Only a careful observer would notice it wasn't secured anymore.

Leave no trace. He'd be proud of that gate, wouldn't he?

Those gloves were too big for you, you remember as you flick your bike's headlight on with a sharp jerk of your wrist. Even when you finally got the chance to try them on.

One more thing you lost in your now-legendary flight from Plutonix.

The amazing Biohazard Rider, wondering how much of her life she left behind in that apartment.

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>>37009067
>The amazing Biohazard Rider, wondering how much of her life she left behind in that apartment.

>>37009067
I'm not sure I have an appropriate reaction image for this.

>>37009213
Poor Tomoko ;_;

>>37009067

But there's no time for regrets, even if the dank air of this dark hole seems to beg for them. It's the damp in the air that wets your eyelashes.

Only the damp in the air.

The beam from your headlight stabs through the darkness, lighting a slope down into the earth. There are caged lights at intervals, connected by conduit, but there's no hope Nepcor still has them connected.

Off at the switchboard to save power.

At least there's no water falling on you anymore, even if you can hear a young river echoing in the distance. It gets louder the farther down you go.

There's moss on the walls down here, green algae stains too. Hopefully it's just the damp air sustaining them, and not regularly high water levels.

Finally, you reach the bottom, the tunnel where the subway used to run. Now water runs here, maybe a foot and a half deep of so, flowing along on its muddy way.

You're not picking up the tracking signal anymore, or even a baseline level of police transmissions. Cut off from the surface world.

Cautiously, you ride out into the running water, and then your front wheel hits something. A rail, probably. They didn't even bother to salvage them when they were converting this into a storm sewer, then.

You turn to ride alongside it toward the restricted zone.

Maybe it still could be powered, with the flip of a master switch. That would be the end for anyone unlucky enough to be in the tunnels, with all this water around.

Well, you should only be down here for a few minutes, at worst. It's not going to be a long ride.

>Go in fast and noisy
>Go in slow and carefully

Roll 1d100

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>37009395
>Go in fast and noisy

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>37009395
>Go in fast and noisy

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>37009395
>Go in fast and noisy

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>37009395
>>Go in fast and noisy

>>37009395
>>Go in slow and carefully

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>37009395
>Go in slow and carefully

>>37009514
>ZAP!

>>37009395

At best, you can make it very short indeed.

Your motorcycle's roar echoes into the concrete maze as you rocket down the subway tunnel. Anyone standing near a storm can hear your passage, although distorted and muffled by distance.

Water splashes up, a full-fledged bow wave from your front wheel. It mists over the moss on the walls, droplets spraying onto your helmet's tinted lens.

Nobody flips the big switch before you get to the station. That's good - you weren't planning on getting electrofried today.

The station's a sudden yawning darkness to both sides, a ceiling even higher than the subway tunnel's. There's a raised platform to your right, its side forming a half-wall along the tracks.

You turn your bike out of the water, up a maintenance ramp to the station's platform. A couple of spartan benches stand out in your headlight's beam, skeletal steel casting strange shadows. The ruins of what might have been lighted displays cling to the walls like limpets.

And then there are the stairs, a semicircular opening in the far wall, a stack of steps ascending beyond.

You've not sure whether your eyes are playing tricks, but it looks like there might be light filtering down the stairs. And the cop detector's giving moderate readings.

This far underground, that's troubling.

If the Nepcor goons are smart, they've got the station entrance covered, at least by a drone. But who would be crazy enough to come in through the storm drain, during a storm?

And who would be crazy enough to anticipate it?

>Ride full-on up the stairs
>Leave the bike here, go up and take a peek around
>Try to find another way out of the station
>Write In

>>37010469
>Ride full-on up the stairs

>>37010469
>>Ride full-on up the stairs
Reinforced Bike>drone rent a cop

>>37010469
>Ride full-on up the stairs

>>37010469

>Ride full-on up the stairs

>>37010469
>>Ride full-on up the stairs

>>37010469

You've come this far pedal to the metaphorical metal, there's no reason to stop now. The roar of your engine fills the abandoned platform, and your bike leaps up the stairs, each bump throwing the headlight's beam in a different direction.

Your eyes weren't playing tricks. There is a light at the end of the violently sloped tunnel.

A flickering, reddish light, slashing down the rounded concrete roof of the stair ramp.

Cop detector's readings are jumping as you ride up the stairs, but the tracker's signal is stone dead. Sharp, loud noises, maybe gunshots.

Maybe more than you bargained for.

Then the arched entrance looms ahead of you, and you pour on even more speed. There's definitely a fire somewhere out there, and the cop detector's flashing red, but anyone who cares already knows you're coming.

You fly out into the station's main concourse, arcing through the air, into a long undergound concrete box. This must have been a hub of several lines, since you glimpse several more sets of stairs like the one you came from.

Burning van to your left. A gust of air from the right, fanning the flames.

Three drones, dark figures against the fire, advancing on the totalled vehicle. They're between you and it, stalking toward the flames.

But they're just beaters for the real hunter. To your right, there's a figure who screams DANGER at you with every line of their body.

Luckily, they're standing back a good thirty meters, letting the drones get to work.

But you really don't like the look of this...

>Gray-haired man with metal fists, his coat whipping in the breeze
>Red armored figure astride a matching motorcycle, pink hair blowing in the breeze
>Man with red eyes, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette

Second Option Set:

>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van
>Ram the drones from behind
>Charge the dangerous figure to your right
>Write In

Roll 1d100

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>37011771
>Gray-haired man with metal fists, his coat whipping in the breeze
>Red armored figure astride a matching motorcycle, pink hair blowing in the breeze
>Man with red eyes, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette
+
>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van

>>37011837
>let's fight all of dagon core at once

There is no way this can backfire.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>37011771
>>Gray-haired man with metal fists, his coat whipping in the breeze
>>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>37011771
>>Red armored figure astride a matching motorcycle, pink hair blowing in the breeze
>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van
Motorcycle fight!

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>37011837
Oh fuck. This.

Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>37011771
>Gray-haired man with metal fists, his coat whipping in the breeze
>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van
Hey Raynard, bye Raynard

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>37011837
THIS THIS THIS

>>37011837
This but give them a big middle finger as your sailing by

>>37011771
>Gray-haired man with metal fists, his coat whipping in the breeze
>Red armored figure astride a matching motorcycle, pink hair blowing in the breeze
>Man with red eyes, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette

>Ignore them all, ride for the burning van

File: 1384686526562.jpg (37 KB, 500x280)

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>>37011837
If the dice are anything to go by, this is clearly the best option.

File: Elizabeth-4.png (1.19 MB, 2000x1200)

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>>37011771

There's a red armored figure astride a motorcycle, sitting dead in the center of the tunnel to your right. The pink hair blowing in the breeze is oddly familiar.

But the breeze is ominous. If you're any judge of things, it's coming from outside.

And that means you're going to have to make it past the other cyclist to get out.

Difficult, especially with an injured asset on your bike.

Then you notice two more figures. One's leaning back against the wall to the cyclist's left, his face lit by a cigarette hanging from his lips, the burning end reflecting in his eyes. He looks almost bored.

The other is standing near the opposite wall, one hand, obviously artificial, propping him up against the concrete surface. Gray hair, a long coat flapping in the breeze.

A psychotic smile erasing traces of surprise from his face.

"Oh," you hear him yell, as you slew the bike around in a sharp left turn, "here comes the cavalry!"

You give him the finger with one hand as the other cranks the throttle. You bump over a sparking drone, defunt on the floor. Somebody's been putting up a fight. The powerful motorcycle blasts past the drones, sweeping around them toward the burning van.

Probably the ambushed transport.

It should give a little cover against whatever the drones are gonna throw at you.

>>37012503

You haul the motorcycle around, getting the burning hulk between you and the drones. The heat of the flames washes against your riding suit.

You sweep your eyes across the lee side of the wreck, and see what might be a burnt corpse inside, and a bedraggled blonde huddled as close to the burning chunk of cover as the heat allows.

There's a gun pointed at your face, a heavy revolver. Probably loaded armor piercing, for the drones.

Punch a hole straight through your helmet.

Behind it, the blonde's green eyes stare fiercely at yours, one almost swollen shut. The wreckage of what might once have been a black three-piece suit still clings doggedly to her.

You can see a bloody rent through the layers of cloth into the abdomen, and the muzzle of the gun's wobbling all over the place.

Great, even the package wants to shoot you, and she's dying at point A

>Write In

>>37012883
Get on if you want to live

File: AHNOLD.jpg (13 KB, 360x270)

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>>37012883
"Come with me if you want to live."

>>37012883
"Somebody still loves you, because I'm your ticket out of this shit."

>>37012883
"You're the package? Come with me if you want to live"

>>37012883
>Oh fuck I'll back >>37012958 because that is fucking genius.

>>37012883
>>37012958
Oh yeah, backing this.

>>37012883

"You're the package?" you ask, "come with me if you want to live."

She seems to collapse a bit, as if opposition to you was the puppeteer's string holding her up. As your eyes follow the movement down, you see a smashed transponder bracelet. lying on the ground.

A tracker's a two-edged sword, isn't it?

"Great," you barely hear the word escaping from her lips over the fire's roar, "but I'm done," she finishes, and the wavering gun falls.

That's a little dramatic, but she's not getting anywhere in one piece with that wound, let alone past everyone who's still waiting on the other side of the car.

>Throw her on the bike anyway
>First aid
>HARDCORE FIRST AID

>Write in anything you want to say to her / yell at the others

1d100

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>37013226
>First aid

Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>37013226
>First aid
"we gotta stop meeting like this.

File: THIS THREAD.jpg (30 KB, 500x333)

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Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>37013226
>HARDCORE FIRST AID

Normal first aid ain't gonna cut it.

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>37013226
>>HARDCORE FIRST AID
Just because I want to know what that entails.

>>37013226
>HARDCORE FIRST AID
Prepare yourself

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>37013226
>First aid
Laura doesn't know its beth right?

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>37013226
Huh forgot dice
>>37013346

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>37013226
>First aid

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>37013226
>>HARDCORE FIRST AID

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>37013226
>HARDCORE FIRST AID

>>37013226
>>First aid

>>37013226

"You're not done yet," you tell her, pushing the gun away with your foot as you dismount from the bike. It rattles slightly on the concrete floor.

"Someone still loves you," you say, kneeling down in front of her, "because I'm your ticket out of this shit."

That almost gets a smile, but it's replaced with a grimace of pain as you pull off her jacket and rip off what's left of her shirt.

Those intestines aren't going to hold themselves in place, and you need the clothes clear.

You grab the big revolver and straighten up, peering through the flames at the attackers.

There's a whimper of pain behind you. Yeah, you shouldn't have left off halfway through, but the drones are closing in.

The other three seem to still be hanging back. Probably trying the seal off the inevitable escape attempt.

You plug one drone, close enough for even you to hit with the heavy armor-piercing rounds. It helps that they're just ambling along. The slugs rip through metal and composites alike -within thirty seconds, you've hit something vital on all of them.

Knees, hips, sensor suites. It doesn't really matter, as long as it puts them on the floor.

Now you've made an opening. They'll hunker down and expect you to come to them.

Well, you've got other plans.

Plans that need that bolt cutter.

After you grab it, you drop back down to the injured asset, with a smile she can't see through your tinted visor. But the smile will help your voice.

You cradle her in your arms.

"Now relax," you say, in that tone every nurse knows, even the one in the run-down clinic your mentor visited, "this won't hurt at all."

She actually does relax. You can feel her let go of some of the tension.

Or maybe she's just slipping farther away, you think, laying her gently on the concrete floor.

That'd probably be best, because this is going to hurt.

A lot.

File: happyface.jpg (353 KB, 1280x2884)

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>>37014040
This gun be gud.

>>37014040

You grab a piece of hot metal in the bolt cutters' jaws. This'll be the burning van's last service to its passenger.

Then you pull the lips of the wound together with one gloved hand, as gently as you can. The Asset's breath hisses through her teeth.

It's nothing like the scream she lets out when you push the metal down, a cauterizing brand on the wound. It's the work of a grisly eternity to seal the damn thing, searing the flesh together as best you can, the blonde's screams echoing in your ears as you tend to her gash.

Finally it's over, and you toss the piece of wreckage back into the fire. After that, it's relatively simple work to bind it up in what's left of her shirt.

Simple enough that your mind races as you do it. You took out the drones, sure, but the three others probably heard the scream and saw through your ploy.

Two men you've never seen before, although the old man's voice sounds familiar, and a motorcyclist with pink hair.

A biker with pink hair, and Nepcor ties.

"You said it wouldn't hurt," the blonde asset manages to get out, yanking you out of your dilemma for a moment. Her voice hovers barely above a whisper, eyes the only strong thing about her, staring accusingly at you as you cinch the ersatz dressing up.

Damn infection, you're trying to keep her guts in.

>Write In

Second Choice [Biker Dilemma]:

>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core
>Nah, there's more than one pink-haired rider in the city
>Write In

>>37014198
>"Yeah, and I feel fine."
>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014198
>I lied.

>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014198
>It didn't hurt me, at least.

>>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014198
I lied, at least you're alive to feel pain

>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014198
>"If you didn't relax your muscles I wouldn't have been able to properly seal the wound."

>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014198
"I lied. Now grow a pair, I need to you to hold that gun when we ride."

>Shit, that's Eliza, and that means they're Dagon core

>>37014287
This

File: happy ending.jpg (453 KB, 1364x768)

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> Eliza
This shit's gonna keep happening until one blows the others's head off right?

>>37014326
Now I really wanna know what she thinks of Laura after watching her perform that brutal first aid surgery on her package.

>>37014357
She doesn't know it is us yet. Our suit and bike are too different.

>>37014198

"I lied," you tell the asset, as you stuff her coat on over everything, "but if you hadn't relaxed your muscles, I wouldn't have been able to properly seal the wound."

There's no response, and her eyes are shut. "At least you're alive enough to feel pain," you tell her as you hoist her onto the bike, "are you alive enough to hold on to me?" you ask, mounting the machine yourself.

"Maybe," she says weakly,arms encircling you, muscles tense, hands locked around opposite elbows. Well, that's probably all you can hope for. You're lucky she's still going, after that treatment.

You're not lucky about anything else, though. That pink hair can't belong to anyone except Eliza.

You're up against one of your oldest friends, and two other members of Dagon Core.

And they've all got a great reason to hate your guts.

A quick peek shows that they're all still waiting, watching like they've been the whole time.

Disturbing.

Paranoia creeps up on you. What game are they playing?

You're probably not going to be able to break through three of them, and even if you did, you'd have to race Eliza.

Her new bike looks mean, and she doesn't have a casualty to take care of.

But if you try leaving the way you came, all they have to do is flip a switch, and the third rail fries you.

It doesn't look like there's going to be a happy ending for you today.

>Write In

1d100

>>37014726
We probably need something to distract them while we run the other way. Any suggestions?

>>37014726
>they're still waiting
>What game are they playing?

There are two Hounds. One of the is sneaking up behind us.

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>37014726
Alright, here's an idea. When we were entering the passage, the QM specifically stated that there were several tunnels *exactly* like ours from the same rail area. Let's fake into the tunnel, exit from the furthest staircase/tunnel upwards we can reach, and take the main road while they're fucking around in the rail area/tunnels.

It's the best I can come up with on the fly. Anyone objections?

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>37014726
Cat and mouse trough the storm drains?

>>37014840
Is there another way to run than the way we came?

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>37014726
Grab a flash bang through it in the air and then gtfo!

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>37014848
Sounds good to me

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>37014848
I can agree to this. Rolling

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>37014726
>Yell "Alright, just what game are you playing?"

...I got nothing.

Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>37014860
Fucking hell. I hope this is a roll-under quest.

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>37014848
this is a pretty good idea combined with the flashbang

i can't remember do we want high or low rolls?

>>37014726
"There's one good thing to fighting three Dagon Core at the same time while carrying an injured Asset on your bike...

they might shoot each other?

Hey, I'm reaching here."

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>37014848
I can dig it. This is part of the reason I voted to take the sewer, so we could have a more convenient escape route they wouldn't know about.

File: 1276245901292.jpg (45 KB, 594x383)

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https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge/status/549077920547762176

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>>37014969
I love this quest.

File: its happening.jpg (54 KB, 512x342)

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>>37014969

File: Happening-Con 3.gif (24 KB, 310x760)

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>>37015098
No, not yet. But soon.

File: so cute it nearly killed me.jpg (48 KB, 720x540)

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Rolled 97 (1d100)

Soooo...this is best of five, right? Please tell this is best of five. I've an adorable puppy next to me and you'll make him oh so very sad if you say it's not.

What happened?

>>37014726

Hot extraction, you'd thought this was going to be.

Well, you're sitting next to a burning van. That's pretty hot.

You cauterized a wound on your package. That was at least using heat, even if it wasn't hot.

There are three assets blocking the direct route to the surface, and the water in the subway tunnels can be turned into a death trap at the flick of a switch.

That's not so hot.

You almost wish Eliza and her friends would just come for you and get it over with. You're beginning to wonder if they're waiting for someone to jump you from behind.

Or are they just that confident that they have you penned in?

You're got a timer clinging to your back. Even with your rough and ready first aid, the blonde Asset has to get to a doctor.

They've got all fucking day.

And there's no other way out.

The flames in front of you cast a dim reddish light across the abandoned station's concourse. The light loses its fight against the darkness in the highest reaches of the vaulted ceiling, about halfway down the long room. Each wall is studded with stairway openings, just like the one you came out of.

They probably all lead to different platforms, each a jumping-off point for a different strand of the unholy spider's web that covers the lower levels of your map.

Your eyes flit past the unimportant mouldering ruins of lighted poster displays, relics of a better time.

A time when you weren't trapped like a rat.

>>37015719

But are you really trapped when there are so many ways out?

Fuck it.

You jerk the bike around, revving the engine, and speed off toward one of the stairs at random. At least down there, you'd have options.

Of course, that's assuming the blonde asset can hang on during the ride down the bumpy steps. You're almost surprised when you reach the platform with her still clinging to you.

Maybe it's because this one's shallower than where you came in - not as many steps to bounce her off.

The water's not as deep in this tunnel, or so the fitful light of your headlamp seems to say, shining on the power conduits running along the side. Insulated power conduits, well above the water level.

You don't have long until Dagon Core comes after you, and the engine noise will give your position away in the echoing station.

But if you turn the bike off, and hide it, there'll be nothing to give you away. Then you can wait while they hunt, or hunt them in turn.

Hunt them while they're split up hunting you - as if you could take any of them in a fair fight.

>Turn off the bike and hide - and hope
>Stash the bike somewhere and hunt them as they hunt for you - it'd make your mentor proud
>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea
>Write In

1d100s, please.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>37015787
>>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea

Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>37015787
>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea

File: 911 with robots.gif (1.49 MB, 320x180)

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Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>37015787
>>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea

Mystery box? Me likey.

>>37014326
Hopefully not, personally I want to bury the hatchet with dagon core and do a job alongside eliza

>>37015787
>META POST

The third option, "Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea" automatically succeeds if you can tell me what that idea is.

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>37015787
>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea

Are we supposed to be hoping for high rolls or low?

File: Fabulous.gif (1.47 MB, 480x240)

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Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>37015852
>>37015847

Ha. Does that roll answer your question boss?

>>37015852
High rolls are better in the quest, unless otherwise notified. Doubles are cool too.

Ones suck.

Congrats on your roll.

>>37015847
Use our phone to look for alternate paths out of this rabbit warren of a sewer.

File: mah drills.gif (130 KB, 344x472)

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>>37015852

>>37015847
Shooting out the gate locks and or causing a fucking traffic jam/ accident in the tunnel as you pass by?

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>37015787
>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea
(as if)

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>37015787

>Ride down the tunnel - it's risky, but you might have an idea

Use previously unknown weapon and or feature built into the bike.

Also, first time rolling. If I fucked it up I'm very sorry.

>>37015847
Drive until we're too paranoid to drive anymore, then climb on the insulated conduits until they stop electrifying the water?

A cash-strapped crop won't be able to afford electrifying the whole system for very long for one drowned rat.

>>37015847
Go fast enough that we hydroplane and then surf the water through the tunnel?

>>37016334
>Intentionally hydroplaning
>ever
You must have never hydroplaned. As someone who has, just don't. No traction generally means a crash. I can only imagine how bad it would be on a bike.

>>37015787

Yeah, that's not happening.

Not today, definitely.

Today you're leaving with the fucking package.

The splashdown into the track bed of the abandoned tunnel isn't as jarring as you'd feared. The blonde Asset is still hanging onto you.

She manages to keep clinging even when you crank the throttle up and rocket down the tunnel, right next to the potentially deadly tracks.

One turn, the bend coated in green algae slime. A second turn, spraying your bike's bow wave onto the wall moss.

You ride until you're sure they must be about to flip the switch, and then you stop, under the conduits. Perching on them yourself won't be too hard, even with the pockets of fuzzy moss hanging here and there.

Holding the weak blonde Asset up there with you, well, that's going to be more of a problem. Somehow you manage to hoist her up there, and clamber after. Everything after that is a teeth-gritted nightmare, an eternity of keeping the blonde Asset, and yourself, up on the thin pipes.

There's nothing to do but wait. Wait for them to flick the power, then leave after they think they've killed you with the electric discharge.

There's nothing to listen to but the Asset's pained sobs, half choked through gritted teeth.

>>37016440
I have, in a Ford Transit doing 110kph downhill on a 70kph road, it was not fun.

>>37016456

There's nothing to do but think. About anything other than the intermittent dripping noise, the eternal wait for the water to spark, the old friend and her new co-workers out for your blood.

>What do you think about?

>>37016487
Making love to our Bike

>>37016487
>Your sex life

>>37016487
>>37016456
This. What else do you think about in times like this?

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>37016487
Good times with Eliza. Racing your bikes together for the first time and listening to silly music and talking about the latest pistons and shit. Something to make us want to hold on.

>>37016487

If the package is intact at the end you are taking her out for drinks.

>>37016487
How we're going to get Eliza to come out and have lunch with us after this is all over and hug her like we wanted to when we called her.

>>37016487
Using some rope or chains to hold ourselves up to the pipes.

>>37016509
Sorry, meant to link to >>37016497

>>37016487
About getting yourself a better line of work, or at least a shit ton more pay.

>>37016500
>>37016497
Second

>>37016511
>>37016520
I want a good BFF relationship between Laura and Eliza so yeah figuring out how we're going to mend the friendship and keep being friends would help, though I'm fully expecting HD to go all feelz on us.

>>37016497
Fucking hell. Haiku said he's not gonna do anymore bike smut. Formal vote against.

>>37016487
>>37016511
I'd like this one. I want to know more about Eliza and why she made us react emotionally during that phone call. What does she mean to us?

>>37016487
Friendship w/ Eliza.

>>37016520
>>37016511
A combination of these two seems like a good idea. It seems kinda random to think about sex.

>>37016497
>>37016500
Second.

>>37016569
>. It seems kinda random to think about sex.
We're likely going to die. Thinking about sex before death is reallllly common

>>37016487
i'd say about how things are with Eliza now

and maybe about the boy too

>>37016456
Backing this >>37016511

and voting against this>>37016497

>>37016497
Backing this.

Voting against >>37016511

>>37016589
>>37016603
Don't be faggots, you can't veto

>>37016487
>>37016511
>>37016520
Yeah, figuring out how to fix things with Eliza, or at least start working towards that would be good, I kind of really want to do a job with her and Erik now

>>37016500
>>37016497
>>37016487
Make sense, considering our position.

Although, just make it one or two passing thoughts and get on with important things

>>37016637
>>37016487
I can second that

>>37016487
>Your sex life

>>37016658
>>37016497
>>37016500
these

File: High definition absurdity.gif (4.88 MB, 410x296)

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>>37016487
Das Samefag Herr Haiku. Kan you schmell ett?

>>37016695
Get back to ERPing in the QMC slut

>>37016708
wat

File: Sig HEIL!.gif (3.04 MB, 320x240)

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>>37016695
Ladies. Gentlemen. Changes of Questing have occurred frequently throughout their runs, and in the history of our quest. It is certain, however, that never was a change of Questing attended with such far-reaching impacts as this one today.

For today, we purge the Smut-Anons! They are rats! Indecent, ignoble parasitical rodents who seek to undermine our great Quest and dilute the purity of our faggotry with their perverse schemes and collaboration with our enemies. Today, we shall drown them like animals! We shall strike them down! Light them ablaze with flames of justice and purity! Stack their bodies in great stinking piles for as far as the eye can see in a monument to their sins and the greatness of our regime!

DEATH to the Smut-Anons! Heil Haiku! Heil Haiku! Heil Haiku!

>>37016805
This is not /b/ or /pol/, fuck off.

>>37016805
go back in your church, priest, you're drunk

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>>37016805
I want to hate this message for the way it's presented, but I want to support it at the same time.

>>37016805
But anon, if your purge the smut anons, you must purge yourself, because you too, in your heart, love the bike.

Though the samefags, you can purge them

File: felicity.webm (1.2 MB, 630x342)

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>>37016871
It's a funny thing you said that because I'm completely sozzled. Perhaps a little less when I wrote that spiel. I ain't mad at ya'all. Maybe a bit miffed that you can't keep you keep it in your pants. But we're all here in the spirit of good fun and good fun was the spirit that led me to shitposte that speech. I love ya'all. Really. I fucking love you guys.

>>37016487

You glance down at your bike. It's too bad you haven't been able to fully experience it since the rebuild. You wonder if it feels any different, especially the reinforced frame.

Even the ride over here was a little bit circumspect, keeping it a little below the line to not become a target for the corp cops.

Maybe the City Circuit would give you the opportunity to truly push it to the limits the new mechanic's given it.

Didn't Eliza always want to race the City Circuit, but never had enough of a bike for it?

Well, that armored monster you saw her mounting earlier is enough of a bike for damn near anything. There's no way she'd miss the race with a machine like that under her.

Maybe by then she'll have cooled off a bit, or figured things out.

Maybe by then you'll have figured things out.

Hopefully things like what happened to Phillip. If he died on your account, you should at least know. But you survived, so he might have too.

Unless someone decided he'd seen too much.

Well, at least he didn't do anything to get someone really mad at him, like kill an Asset. No, that's your special hell.

And the damndest thing about it is that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. What else were you supposed to do, let him kill you?

It was the right thing to do. But you're not sure if she'll ever see it that way.

Another glance at your bike. You're not quite sure if you'll ever be able to see it the same way.

After having someone like Matt tend to it, take it to pieces, and rebuild it with skilled hands and oil-covered pecs, dominating its metal frame with his flesh, you just don't know.

You don't know if you can ever quite see your bike as the same hard, fast, and long companion it's always been.

Maybe it's just a machine.

>>37016931
>You don't know if you can ever quite see your bike as the same hard, fast, and long companion it's always been.
>
>Maybe it's just a machine.
Oh no you don't, we love our bike, even if it has a new coat of paint and another has tended to it while we've been out of it.

>>37016931
our poor bike was soiled by this big bulky guy, it'll get better after a good cleaning

>>37016953
>>37016981
Indeed, once we finish this job we need to take some time off work to spend with our bike, to make up for lost time and to care for him, let him know we still love him.

>>37016931
You did gud.

>>37016931

Then the lightning strikes. White flashing sparks, the tang of ozone in your nostrils, and the noise of high-powered electrons thrusting themselves through the air.

Suddenly the waiting doesn't seem so bad. The hell of sparks continues, burning worms of energy writhing over the water, and your bike.

It ends a swiftly as it began. The sudden silence is as disquieting as the burst of noise was.

So much power, to switch destruction on and off at a whim like that.

Just as you're about to get down, it happens again, a second burst to catch anyone that escaped the first by accident. By the time it finishes assaulting your senses, your arm feels like it's going to fall off.

But at least it hasn't let the package fall yet.

Damn, you need a drink.

File: Questing In A Nutshell.jpg (52 KB, 400x400)

52 KB JPG

>META POST

I can't go any longer. I'll draw up the score when this entire mission is over.

Far too tired now.

Thank for playing, it was fun to run as usual.

>LINKS

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

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

Megacorps & Locations: http://pastebin.com/e0ZjmVJL
(More info pastebins should come eventually. There are too many moving parts to keep track of otherwise.)

Questions: http://ask.fm/haikudeluge

>>37017306
thanks for running

>>37017306
Thanks for the thread HD

>>37017306
Thanks for the run dude.

>>37017317
>>37017326
>>37017331

You're welcome!

Unfortunately, due to life conspiring to kill my questing, it might be two weeks until the next thread.

>>37017372
That is a crying shame. I hope you can find the time to run at some point in the next couple of weeks.

>>37017306
Thanks for running.

>>37017306
A bit late to the party, but thanks for running