>>5972521
>1: Corporate Netrunner. Raised in a training facility, the net's a second home to you, and you know your way around it better than meatspace

>>5972521
>4: [Write-in!]

>Wannabe rocker boy/girl: Your sound is unique, your style is preem, and this isn't just a phase!

>>5972521
>
2: MedTek Dropout. You used to be trauma team, now you're... whoever pays best. Couldn't keep up with the constantly raising deadlines and demands. Burnt you out.

>>5972521

>Classic solo, out to make his name. No job too big, even if we bite off more than we can chew. Loud is nice, quiet is nicer, and name is everything.

>>5972521
>3: Classic Solo. You were born out on the streets, grew up fighting. You were good enough to make a living out of it.

Lets go!!

>>5972521
>Console Cowboy: Born on the streets, now you do jobs on the Net for the highest bidder. You don't ask questions, and that's the way they like it.
Come on, we gotta do a Neuromancer run.

>>5972521
>3: Classic Solo. You were born out on the streets, grew up fighting. You were good enough to make a living out of it.

>>5972521
>2: MedTek Dropout. You used to be trauma team, now you're... whoever pays best. Couldn't keep up with the constantly raising deadlines and demands. Burnt you out.
I was just thinking about a ripperdoc quest

>>5972521
>2: MedTek Dropout. You used to be trauma team, now you're... whoever pays best. Couldn't keep up with the constantly raising deadlines and demands. Burnt you out.

Nice quest potential!

>>5972521

2: MedTek Dropout. You used to be trauma team, now you're... whoever pays best. Couldn't keep up with the constantly raising deadlines and demands. Burnt you out.

This would be fun just for the meming

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>>5972645
>>5972727
>>5972801

Cranial bruising, muscle damage. Concussion... A thousand aches across your body remind you of your training. You force-reboot your optics and biomon, hoping to get more information.

>ERROR: Kang Tao 525-AB Biomonitor is DAMAGED and unable to boot.
>ERROR: Kiroshi Optical Drivers are out of date! This may seriously impair vision, cognative function, insurance rates...
>ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.
None of your chrome seems to be working at fully capacity. The red warnings flash on your peripherals. Fuck. You could try to run more diagnostics, sitting in this feotid trash... or take a lay of the land and figure it out later.

>1: Try to climb out of the garbage and see where you are, try to get a clearer picture of what happened.
>2: Check your pockets to see if you're still carrying iron... or anything else, for that matter.
>3: Run an indepth diagnostic, and try to force your chrome to work at 100%
>4: [Write-in]

>>5972866
>think about how preem it'd be to have a platinum trauma team package
And then
>run a diagnostic, but don't try and force our chrome on, you've seen one too many cases of a choom frying their nervous system trying to overclock their own Augs to not fuck around with yours without a ripper on standby

>>5972866

>3: Run an indepth diagnostic, and try to force your chrome to work at 100%

Curse those bastards at TT management once more while we’re at it

>>5972866
>1: Try to climb out of the garbage and see where you are, try to get a clearer picture of what happened.
Unsanitary. How long have we been in this shitheap? Scav behaviour.

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>>5972869
You used to have one - back when you worked there. Nice bonus for the few moment you were off duty. Oh well. Gone now.

>BOOTING DIAGNOSV4 - UNLICENSED VERSION! UPGRADE TO PAID VERSION FOR MORE FEATURES!

The company behind the soft' went bust a year ago. Everyone with the paid version got fried a couple days later. Good thing you didn't upgrade.

-RUN DIAGNOSTIC
>Are you sure you want to do this?
>DIAGNOSTICS CAN RESULT IN REDUCED COGNITION, SHORTNESS OF BREATH, REDUC-
-I agree to the EULA and all risks.
>RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC.
>SCANNING.
>SCANNING.
>SCANNING.
>Kiroshi Optics Drivers - One version behind. Download update from net? Select here for risks of net downloa-
-Next.
>KT525-AB has severe power failure, overheating, failure to connect. Cause unknown. Disconnect?
>Renal Filters running at reduced efficiency - 15%. Cause: Shattered housing. Percussive damage 90% likely to be cause. Seek medical attention.

Well, fuck. That's not good. Heavy damage.

>>5972934

Yeah. You probably should climb out of this foetid heap, if you're as bad as it seems. Looking down at yourself as you haul yourself, slowly and painfully, out of the garbage can and into a heap on the floor.
Your clothes - nothing notable. Some light armour, regular civvies - are bloodsoaked and torn. A couple gunshot wounds. What the fuck happened?

The alleyway is empty, strewn with trash. It's shadowy from the megablocks nearby, but it seems to be midday. A few cars drive past the alley's mouth, and someone honks.

..now what?

>1: Check your pockets.
>2: Visually assess the damage you've taken.
>3: Wander out into the street.
>4: [Writein]
>5: Try to download that driver update for your optics. You'd assume your ICE is fried though, so it'd be risky.

>>5972949
>1: Check your pockets.
>2: Visually assess the damage you've taken.
Gunshot wounds? Check for entry/exit wounds, try and recall how we got dumpstered. Failing kidneys... we're on limited time here boys

>>5972974

seconded.

>>5972974
Support.

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>>5972974
>>5973007
>>5973098

Deep breath. You're fine. It hurts, a dull ache all over, but now you've got nearly fresh air in your lungs, your faculties are starting to come back under control.

Your shirt - an old tanktop with "Visit the Sunny Pacific Coast" with an unrecognizable mascot beneath - is torn apart. A militech ballistic harness sits over the top, a couple patches sewn on. In it's main pouch, you can see the outline of a pistol - something you intrinsically know to be an Armali - no, *your* Armalite-44. A weapon you're familiar with. Adeptly unholstering it, the weight tells you it's fully loaded. You put it back.

Another pouch has a shattered inhaler in it. The coded label on the top is meaningless to anyone else, but a trauma team 'medic - like you - would know that it indicates it's a 50% speedheal and 50% Syncomp mix. A general use medical 'hypo, popular among mercenaries.
Shaking it a little, you figure that whatever wasn't drained must've evaporated.

Last pouch is empty - but your pocket, a regular jean pocket - has a burner cell. It's a bit damaged, but still works.

You stow it back away and heave the rest off, checking yourself over. Bruising on what seems like most of your body, a slice on your upper shoulder and worst of all, two gunshot wounds. Abdominal wounds. Medium calibre, it seems. Must've been from a rifle or something. A mix of bloodclot and badly applied synthskin stops them from bleeding, but as you probe it with your fingers a thin trickle of blood leaks out. Ouch.

The diagnostic told you those bullets did hit your kidneys. Not good. Plus... You run your hands across your head, not finding any noticable damage... something's clearly wrong with your head. You're struggling to remember how you got here. Not a heavy drinker... so... must've been dumped here? Left for dead?

>1: Check the phone to jog your memory.
>2: Shoot a couple of empty bottles down the alleyway, test your hand-eye coordination.
>3: Wander out into the street.
>4: Call 911 for help.
>5: Write-in.

>>5973121
>1: Check the phone to jog your memory.
We need eddies. Hopefully we have some.

>>5973121
>>1: Check the phone to jog your memory.

>>5973121
>1: Check the phone to jog your memory.

>>5973146
>>5973182
>>5973185

The passphrase on the cellphone pops into your mind instantly, like a light at sea. 5626. 20 new messages from someone called... Danny Diode. Of course! Your fixer.

>WHERE ARE YOU
>scanners are lit up choom!!!
>are you literally fckn dead wtf
>stop ignoring me u fucking gonk.
>did u get zeroed man
...and so on. Last one...
>say when you see something. if ur not flatlined. wont wire u the edds til then k?
...Was 18 hours ago. So you probably haven't been here that long.

Scrolling back through the messages, memories flood back. You were on a job. You, two solos. Some media-journo type doing a story about the true solo life. Hitting.. - you scratch your head, eyes scanning over old messages... - a gang? It was part of some gang war. We were out to aven-

>u good choom? if ur still nearby gtfo. nixxes looking for you. make an example.

The message pops up, from Danny - he must've seen that you'd logged in.

[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.

[ Actions:]
>1: Respond to the text.
>2: Leave the alleyway, look around.
>3: Try to contact the others from your crew.
>4: Use something from your inventory.
>5: [Write-in. ]

>>5973265

>1: Respond to the text.

“Danny, where’s my exfil?!”

>>5973265
>2: Leave the alleyway, look around.
When a man says to GTFO it's best to GTFO.

>>5973265
>1: Respond to the text.
"I just woke up in a dumpster with lead in my renals. No clue what the fuck happened, but I need a ripper that won't snitch."

>>5973379
+1

>>5973379
+1

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>>5973589
>>5973457
>>5973379
>>5973280

You sent the text. "I just woke up in a dumpster with lead in my renals. No clue what the fuck happened, but I need a ripper that won't snitch."

Instantly, Diode's reply appears.
"dude we've worked 2gthr since before u were at tt. ofc ill sort u out. in little europe. near the library."

So you've got somewhere to go.
Another message pops up.

"the nixxes still looking 4 you. like i say, want to make an example. others are flatlined. u must've really riled them up. cant help til ur out of the area. good luck choom"

So, you're alone. At least he can help you once you're out, but you've got an angry gang to deal with. The nixxes... you must be in South NC, right? You seem to remember that they're a, posergang, right? The nixxes... Shit.
You shake your head hard, trying to clear the brainfog. It works, a little. You went into their bar, the Watergate... if you're close, it's about 10 blocks to Little Europe. If you're close.

You feel... well, not bad, really. Considering you're almost certainly going to die in the next few days, without help. A dull ache all over, and a bit of pain when you move.


[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.

[ Actions:]
>1: Call 911. Hopefully Trauma Team can help. Even if you can't afford it.
>2: Search the alleyway for... something.
>3: Leave the alleyway, look around.
>4: Try to contact the others from your crew.
>5: Use something from your inventory.
>6: [Write-in. ]

>>5973808
2 let's see whats laying around

>>5973808
>4: Try to contact the others from your crew.
>6: [Write-in. ]
Check our balance, maybe we can afford a cab.

>>5973808

>Call CombatCab to make sure we get to the library.

>>5973808
>3: Leave the alleyway, look around.
Others are flatlined. Might as well find out where we are before we go looking for their corpses.

>>5973808
Support >>5973920

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>>5973825
>>5973858
>>5973920

The world comes into focus around you, a plan of action tentatively forming.

Check if any of your buddies ended up here, check if you can call a cab, relax and cruise to the end point. Pray the Nixxes don't catch you. Easy.

Okay then, step one. 26 eddies, and 43 ennies. 27 eurodollars, being generous. Piss, you've enough to get to the end of the road, maybe.

Step two... The alleyway's mostly trash. Rotting black bags. But your eyes pick out a man-shape in the rot, slumped against the garbage can you woke up in. Someone in fatigues, mostly stained a dark bloody brown.
It is - was - one of the Solos you hit the Nixxes with. You never caught his name.

Tentatively poking your head out of the alley, the road's busy. A couple pedestrians walking on the opposite side of the street. Traffic's at a standstill - 20 metres down the road, a large truck's parked across both lanes. Five men in ill-fitting suits are gathered around the front car, shouting and arguing with the occupants. Gangoons - the NIxxes. You duck back in before they see you.

So... no cab, then. And if meathead over there's dead, chances are the others are too.


[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.

[Actions:]
>Write-in.
>Use an item.
>Write-in...
>Go out onto the street, quiet-like.
>Start shooting. Fuck those gangoons! [Watch your ammo, choom.]
>Search him for something useful.

>>5973981
>Search him for something useful.
We still got our stuff. Let's hoping he has something on him too.

>Search him, drag him out of view if need be
>Look for a window, fire-escape, door, or low wall we can get out of the alley from

>>5973981
>>5974053
support

>>5974053
+1

>>5974053

Supporting this is a good plan of action.

>>5973981
Supporting >>5974053

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>>5974053
>>5974077
>>5974202
>>5974373

You crouch behind the dumpster, shoving your hand into one of his pockets.
Perfect timing. A suited man walks past, an enormous gun slung over his shoulder. He's looking out at the street, doesn't glance in your direction.

Your hand closes around something large, metal. Heavy. Fishing it out, it's a shiny metal cylinder with a lasercut Araska logo on it. White Phosphorus grenade - a nice find.

There's little else on him - some ruined banknotes, about 50 eddies. But nobody's gonna accept them with that many bulletholes in them - it goes in your pocket anyway.

At the mouth of the alley, there's a fire escape leading up the side of Apartment block - a story or so up, the drop-ladder's probably rusted in place, likely never used.
Waiting for it to be clear, you walk down under it and try to clamber up the walls.

> [Roll - 12 Failure.]

You can't reach it. What were you expecting? To clamber up a flat brick wall with no appropriate augs? Big surprise.

You hear more shouting from the street. A single gunshot, then the revving of engines and screaming.


[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.
>White Phosphorus Grenade
>50 bucks of wrecked notes.

[Actions:]
>Try to clamber up the wall again. Maybe you'll learn to fly.
>See what's going on outside.
>Try to get the fire escape ladder down somehow. (Describe how.)
>Use an item.
>Write-in.

50 torn-up eddies & 26 in good condition?

>Look for a window to break into OR
>Bite the bullet & shoot down the fire escape

>>5974557
>See what's going on outside.
Someone's getting shot, and it's not us. Best keep our head low and see what's happening.

>>5974557
>See what's going on outside.
Might be our lucky day. Yesterday certainly wasn't.

>>5974557
Supporting >>5974567

>>5974557

>See what's going on outside.

We should be ready to toss our war crimes grenade

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>>5974567

50 in torn up currency, 26 in your account. Easily accessible.

>>5974680
>>5974732
>>5974774
>>5974778

You walk out onto the street. The street's backed up with traffic, a couple brave people have got out and are shouting towards the obstruction - the truck's still there, and a bystander's dead infront of it. A group - three or four - gangoons are stood around, laughing.

"Yeah? Still want us to move, choom? Hahaha!"
"I told you I wan't no crook, gonk!"

On your right, the Nixx that walked past. He's leant up against a railing that divides the road from the sidewalk 'suggesting' that one of the disgruntled commuters gets back into his car before his head paints the street.

The closer look awakens some more memories - He's wearing an ill fitted suit, a frankenstein assault rifle hanging from a sling across his torso. No visible chrome. The goon's face is the most notable element: He, like every Nixx, has modelled themselves on President Richard Nixon, their faces altered to match his. The perimeter of his face, and the back of his head, are a mess of surgical scars, making up the only evidence that he wasn't born with incredible jowls and a weirdly wide nose.
The memories settle in your head. The Elvises - another posergang - were your clients. You walked into their bar, shot their master-of-arms in the face and... well, now you're here. The sole survivor.

You've probably got a few seconds before the Nixx notices you, and if he shoots or shouts - the others will notice too.

Tick tock, choom.


[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.
>White Phosphorus Grenade
>50 bucks of wrecked notes.

[Actions:]
>Flight - try to backup back into the alley, hope he won't notice.
>Freeze - maybe he'll think you're a hobo?
>Flatline these bastards. (What're you doing, exactly?)

>>5974927
>toss the phospherous grenade at the crowd of three/four gangoons
if its a smoke grenade theyll be too confused to try and flatline us, if its an incendiary grenade even better
>back away down the opposite side of the street, hand on gun and looking for any sort of cover on the street if things backfire
am thinking the distraction from the grenade should be enough to fully slip by them down the street, if not then we take cover and start blasting (god help us)

>>5974927
Turn the other direction, walk fast, get something between you and the gang, preferably a building.

>>5974927
>Draw our Armalite, aim carefully, pop him in the head.

>Sprint behind a car and hope they don't immediately identify that it was us that popped their buddy (or took a shot at him, if we missed). Toss the warcrime grenade into the midst of the group of 4 gangoons.

>>5974971
>>5975057
+1 to either of these

>>5974927
>Just walk away with confidence & purpose, putting anything solid between you & them, but keep the grenade ready to throw.

>>5974971
>>5975049
>>5975057
>>5975090
>>5975110

You take a step away, ready to slink back into the shadows when a pang of renal pain stops you... Fuck it, better to end up in the Afterlife than bleed out in a slightly different alleyway.

You're a Medtek, of course. Saving lives is what you're good at - but that doesn't mean you're not good at taking them too. The Armalite-44's in your hand near instantly, the well-practiced draw making you smirk slightly.

The argumentative civilian your target was debating with sees you, his sudden silence tipping the Nixx off. But too late.

The crack of the Heavy Pistol echoed off the walls. In a shocking cliche, the world seemed to slow as the action cycled. You saw the Nixx turning, slowly, with the round catching him nearly exactly on the squamosal suture, by your reckoning. His eyes widened, the only reaction he was capable of... Time caught up, the entire farside of his head blew out, splattering the street. A fist-size chunk of skull shattered a window, and he dropped before the echoes even stopped.

No time to waste, you pivot towards the group, left leg sliding back - matching arm already clutching the grenade. You're in something of a boxer's stance, but with your left arm dropped to waist height.

The feet stay planted as you rotate your torso clockwise, grenade-arm swinging outward from centrifugal force. At the apex of it's swing, you let your hand loose - the cylinder flies out on a flat arc towards the group. Not a perfect throw by any means, but having never played 'ball, you just threw in a way that felt right

[Roll - 9. ???.]

You don't see where it lands - the moment it leaves your hand, you're moving again. Over the dividing barrier, leaping behind a car. Your peripheral lights up bright white, someone begins to scream. The car's rear window shatters, spraying reinforced glass over you. It doesn't cut.

"Let us move from the era of confrontation, to the era of blowing your fuckin' head wide open!" you hear one bellow. Any following words are drowned out by gunfire; that you're thankfully protected from; that shreds a few cars behind you; that might tell you how many are left, if you even got any.


[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.
>White Phosphorus Grenade
>50 bucks of wrecked notes.

[Actions:]
>Wait behind the evidently armoured car, try to gain intel. (What are you trying to learn?)
>Return fire, blind.
>Take up a decent firing position to return fire.
>Try to parlay.
>Write-in.

>>5975236
>Listen and watch carefully. We won't be able to discern their movements from footsteps with the civilians no doubt scrambling about. Instead, listen for them communicating their movements or where each burst of gunfire comes from. Watch to see if they shoot at random fleeing civilians.

>If they don't shoot at the civvies, then holster our gun and wrap up, try and look like a panicked hobo. Flee with the rest of the civvies down some other alley or through a building that leads to a parallel street. Then head to the library. If they do shoot civvies, shoot at the Nixxes whose location we've got a good bead on from our listening.

>>5975236
>Take up a decent firing position to return fire.

>>5975236
Very well written description here, & I love the concept of Richard Nixon devotees as a cyborg cult-gang.

>Crawl under cars backwards away from the shooters; if any come into view, Allah forgive me for uttering this - give them a taste of our big iron; aim for the head & knees

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>>5975481
Thanks, anon! I'm trying my best with the writing. It's my first quest, so I wanna do it right.
>>5975236
Mistake - inventory is wrong. You used the phosphorus grenade.

>>5975304
>>5975458
>>5975481

Engines are revving, someone is still screaming in agony, and their guns are loud - you can't hear them, if they're talking.

The stuck traffic is now trying to get the fuck out with shit hitting the fan. A lot of them have gleft their cars entirely, running down the street away from the Nixxes. The gangoons seem to be moving up on both sides, judging from the arc of fire - a few rounds are flying over your head now, rather than hitting the cabin.

You know there's at least two enemies, then. One on each side. It could be three - you can only hear one person screaming. But you might've got more than one. Or maybe it's a bystander... Fuck.

"There could be two but could be four" - nice deduction. You're basically blind, perfect situation for planning. They're not shooting civilians, but they know you're behind this car. No chance to pretend you're a random. Fight or flee.

You scrabble across the floor to get under the previous car. It's a civvie-model Militech-HMMWV Hummer. Heavily armoured, quad-directional tear gas dispenser, 20 minute internal air supply. Yes, the civilian model - and the driver's sat inside. Nearly under this truck, a gunshot sounds close behind you. Asphalt sprays up and you roll onto your back, kicking against the road to push you further under the vehicle. The Nixx drops into a crouch, bracing their gun and dialing in their aim - but you shoot first.

[Roll - 16. Success.]

Bang, bang. Two shots - the first blows his lower left arm clean off, and the barrel drops as it's no longer suported. The second hits his clavicle, throwing him backwards without most of his upper torso.
Gunfire comes from the right side, hitting the Hummer's tire, but you continue to scrabble back, emerging from under the rear of the car. It's tall enough that you could stand up and return fire.
You've fired three shots. 5 left.

[Inventory:]
>Phone.
>Armalite-44.
>A crushed inhaler.
>50 bucks of wrecked notes.

[Actions:]
>Continue to scrabble backwards, under the next car and the next until you're at an advantagious position. Or they catch up and simply shoot you as you're rolling around on the floor.
>Stand up, hope the Hummer doesn't reverse over you and start firing.
>Write-in.

[Picrel is a badly drawn map - you don't know where the enemies are, so they're not on there. If they would be on there. Hope it's helpful in visualizing the area.]

>>5976049
>yell "GRENADE!", toss the broken inhaler at the nearest group of nixxies and use the distraction to back away
will make for a good story if we get out of this alive

>>5976049
>Stand up, hope the Hummer doesn't reverse over you and start firing.

>>5976049

>Continue to scrabble backwards, under the next car and the next until you're at an advantagious position. Or they catch up and simply shoot you as you're rolling around on the floor.

Our least bad option I think

>>5976049
>Stand up, hope the Hummer doesn't reverse over you and start firing.

>>5976062
This but instead of running away, start shooting.

>>5976068
>>5976098

[Roll - 3. Failure.]

Preparing to reposition, you fish out the inhaler and toss it over the Hummer with a shout of "GRENADE!" - you stand up and turn the corner to the long-side of the vehicle as you throw, seeing two gangoons through the car window. One hurls himself behind a piece of street furnature - a phone booth. The other, unfortunately, decides to take cover by leaping over the Hummer's hood - putting him directly infront of you.

He's faster. You're raising your gun, but his was already there.
Whrump! - like lightning, his pistol cracks. Hot agony, too bad to know where it came from. As you drop, your finger tightens around the trigger. An instinct.

[Roll - 18.]

His bloodied eyes fly towards you as the rest of his face is ejected backwards through the back of his skull. A lucky shot. You're slumped against the hummer, barely able to keep your eyes open. Fresh blood's covering your chest, and slight movement is agony. Shattered bone scraping on shattered bone reminds you of nails on a chalkboard, but infinitely more awful. The iron taste is overwhelming.

Not dead yet. Your Armalite's still in your hand, clutched in a death grip. Your heart beat is louder than anything you've ever heard.

[Actions:]
>Write-in.
>Let the light take you.

>>5976555
>rip a big piece of cloth from gangoons clothing, apply it to wound area, keep pressing down on it as you make an exit
we're good as dead, this is the only thing thatll give us a marginal chance of surviving

>>5976555
>Write-in.
Stagger to the nearest corpse, search it for any kind of hypo to keep you on your feet

>>5976555
>Call Trauma Team. We'll sell our soul for our life. Eternal debt just for another tomorrow.

Nice trips.

+1 to all 3^; tourniquet/bandage, then hypo, then trauma team

another + on the bandage, but screw Trauma Team, death is more financially sound

>>5976572
>>5976633
+1 to both of these, but do the hypo AFTER we kill the last guy.

>>5976572
>>5976633
>>5976642
>>5976733
>>5976941
>>5977007

You crawl. On your hands and knees. Inch by agonizing inch, heartbeat like a drum. Your vision's swimming, the shock to your body causing everything to glitch out. Error messages flash in your eyes as tears-and-blood well up on the surface.

Your hands, blindly grasping, feel cloth and blood and chrome. You blink away the tears, the blood, the error messages to see his body under you - headless. Pockets are full of shit, you toss it to the side - then his chest shatters. Explodes into meat chunks. You don't even hear the gunshots, but just fall back onto your ass. Awkwardly rolling and crawling away. It goes dark as a shadow is cast over you. His silhouette looms over you.

Error messages clear, systems-go-green pops in your peripheral.
>Kiroshi Optics Emergency Usage Activated - €$50,000 fee added to your account.You're welcome!

It identifies his gun, the ammo used. His name - Kenny Midelejko - and a thousand other bits of useless information appears and vanishes.

(Cont.)

>>5977055

He has his gun squarely on you. One twitch and you're dead. All the information isn't helpful.
A single second ticks by. Your grip slackens, and the gun starts to slip from your hand...

[Roll - 16. Very marginal success.]

His finger tightens and he steps forward - you feel the cold barrel press against your head.
"Not ba-" The final, final hurrah. You squeeze your hand into a fist, pulling the trigger flat against the frame.

CRAK! He crumples ontop of you, half-grunting and half squealing, fist-sized hole in his leg. The barrel slips off your head and fires a burst inches from your ear. It's the last thing you hear clearly - ringing drowns out even the thudding of your heart.
He's ontop of your legs, still alive. Desperately trying to wrestle his rifle into a position to end this. You fire your pistol again, missing - he lunges for it, but you fire again and catch his arm; blowing it clean off; sending him tumbling to your right, between you and the Hummer.

[Roll - 15. Success.]

The Nixx tries to kick you, but can't muster up the energy, so he tries to stop the blood. You watch his surgically-altered face twist into panic, then fear. He looks tired, blinking longer. The tension leaves his body, his remaining arm goes limp and his head bows sideward, resting on the concrete. Dead.

You can't move, you can't hear. Lacking the energy to move your head, you stare at his body through a mist of blood, sweat and tears. The text from your optics is too blurry to make out...

[Actions:]
>Refuse to die...
>Rest your eyes...

>>5977079
>Refuse to die...

>>5977079
>Refuse to die...

Death doesn't pay the bills, and we all know default is worse than death.

>>5977079
>Refuse to die...

>>5977079
>Refuse to die...

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>>5977092
>>5977148
>>5977344
>>5977367

You refuse to close your eyes. You will not die here, at the hands of some fucking Richard Nixon cosplayers. Not today. Everything is screaming, every cell in your body begging you to rest. Your abdomen feels like it's on fire, your upper chest feels like it's made of sandpaper rubbing on raw flesh.

Cell. Your cell. Your gun drops from your hand, and you reach - so slowly, so agonizingly slowly - for the cell phone. It felt like hours, but you have it in your hand. Bloody and slippery, it takes all you've got not to drop it.

9...
You try wiping some of the blood off...
1...
Your hand spasms, but you don't drop it.
1...
It slips out of your hand. The tinny voice of the dispatcher is audible, but you can't make anything out over the ringing.

The edges of your vision start to go black...
Suddenly, the triumphant the roar of an AV engine cuts through the ringing in your ears... Armoured men you can percieve make out surround you. You hear shouting, alarms, maybe even a few gunshots... It all sounds so distant now.

You fall unconscious - finally - as you're hoisted into the AV, stimulants and chemical cocktails pump into you - not that you're aware. Your heart is restarted several times. It's a tough fight to keep you going.

Whether you ultimately flatline or not, you made it out of that street and left those bastards dead behind you. A phyrric victory, but a victory anyway.

[Quest complete.]

Thanks anons for playing. This was my first quest, and I hope it decent. Any constructive criticism or pointers are appreciated!

That was badass, really well written & the endpoint is appropriate (maybe we died, or maybe we're indebted/impoverished for the rest of our lives in this dystopia of greed). Were the Nixxies an original gang? Have you lurked for awhile or did an ad catch your interest for this board? Looking forward to whatever you run next. Be sure to archive this with Suptg

>>5977536
Thanks, anon! Really appreciate it.
I hang around on /tg/ but never looked at this board. Popped on the day I started this quest, looked at a couple others to get the idea, then immediately made my own - hence why it's kinda rules-lite and sorta arbitrarily rolling (I did genuinely roll a dice though! Just irl.)

Nixxes are an original gang, although similar kinds of gangs exist in the universe. Just none modelled on Nixon!

>>5977520
very nice. im imagining a proper cp2020 quests with character sheets and dice rolls and the likes.

>>5977520

Very well done for a first quest, thanks for your efforts! A finished quest is a great quest around these parts, I salute you

>>5977596
i will probably do that fairly soon!

>>5977788
if you cant think of much for an adventure you can just take one of the adventurebooks from 2020 and use those