Chapter One: Results Oriented Magic

[Wraith]

Location: Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex
Condition: Ok
Broadcasted SIN: <hidden mode, teammates have authorization to see her>

Wraith glances back towards Bushwack and the elf, not bothering to hide her glare; after an aggravated shake of her head she shifts her attention back, in time to catch the scuffing sound. Holding her breath for a moment, the foxelf eyes the cell and Mulpa's prone body, hoping to see some sort of movement.

>>Hey, foxy. Are you and Trogdor over there WITH the guys peeling people off the street and imprisoning them in hellpits or AGAINST the guys peeling people off the street and imprisoning them in hellpits? Asking for a friend. - l'outre de la morte<<

Receiving a message from an unknown/unfamiliar name causes a chill to run through the young shadowrunner. After a long moment of hesitation and consideration, Wraith decides to respond.

>>Am unfamiliar with who you are referring to but I would be against them regardless - Who are you? If you are in the cell where the dwarf is I suggest you show yourself. Slowly. <Onegaishimasu><<

Once that is sent, Wraith lowers her weapon so that it's not pointing at the cell, hoping to display a willingness to avoid violence.

[Shrike]

Location: Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex
Condition: Ok
Broadcasted SIN: <hidden mode, teammates have authorization to see him>

A fraction of a second after Shrike swaps out his ammo, there's a SPAK...SPACK on the wall three centimeters from his face. There is a single impact point. Paint is punched in like a hammer blow, but the concrete wall seems barely damaged. Two shots, one impact point, no lead. One could interpret that many ways...

What the frack Shrike reacts instantly, his wired reflexes slowing down the world, immediately ducking down and rolling under the trailer for cover. He shifts underneath and holds his rifle ready. scanning for where the shot came from.



Somebody either is sending me a warning or is a lousy shot. Either way, that cyborg has backup or we have a fourth party.

Attention, we have a sniper on deck. Unknown location and unknown allegiance." he messages the others to alert them.

[Death Otter]

Death Otter messaged an animated image of her cyber-otter laughing, holding its side.

Then she spoke aloud, in a high pitched tonal singsongy voice, "Yoroshiku onegai shimasu!"

For a moment nothing else happened, then there was a shimmer in the air. A wavering area the shape of a human figure. It pixelated and darkened, filling in colors and shading. The visual effect was of someone coalescing out of shadows. A young woman, human, with a slim and athletic figure clad in a form-fitting garment that covered her from head to foot. She undid the 'hood' of it where it covered her face and pulled it back, showing a pale-skinned face and short cut brown hair.

She was armed, a pistol in her right hand, held slightly back...but not held up to aim at Wraith. In her other hand was a wad of cloth rolled into a tight ball.

"You're not here for ME," the girl surmised. "...whiiiiiiich means you've got no reason NOT to step aside while I waltz on out of here. Hey. If you figure out who blipped the power a few minutes ago, tell 'em thanks from Death Otter."

With that, she moved towards the cell door, giving Wraith as much space as she conveniently could and stepping over the fallen dwarf.

She added, "The dwarf's alive, if you're concerned about that kind of thing. No idea what happened to him."

[Wraith]

Location: Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex
Condition: Ok
Broadcasted SIN: <hidden mode, teammates have authorization to see her>

"<<Yoroshiku onegai shimasu!>>"

For a moment nothing else happened, then there was a shimmer in the air. A wavering area the shape of a human figure. It pixelated and darkened, filling in colors and shading. The visual effect was of someone coalescing out of shadows. A young woman, human, with a slim and athletic figure clad in a form-fitting garment that covered her from head to foot. She undid the 'hood' of it where it covered her face and pulled it back, showing a pale-skinned face and short cut brown hair.

Keeping her weapon down for the moment, Wraith watches as the camouflage of the chameleon suit disengages, brows furrowing once more. The lack of aggressive or hostile movements has the foxelf relaxing a little bit, though not so much as to totally let her guard down. Once the figure is fully revealed, her expression goes from cautious/suspicious to curious. Wraith gives an abbreviated half-bow. "<<Aete ureshiidesu,>>" she finally replies.

"I do believe you are correct, we are not here for you," the foxelf continues, shifting to the side to give the other woman more space to move through the portal out. "<<Suimasen>>, Do you know what happened to the dwarf, <<wakarimasu>>?"

While waiting for a response, she sends a message to Bushwack: >>Non-hostile coming your way, female, similar size to me. Not expecting trouble from her<<

When Death Otter passes, Wraith offers another nod. "<<Shi-kawauso>>. There are two more of our team outside, Shrike and Stygge. If they ask, let them know Wraith gave you a nod, and that our comms have been cut-off from the outside. <<Onegaishimasu>>."

If/once Death Otter departs, the foxelf makes her way over to Mulpa, kneeling down to check his vitals - via biomonitor if he has one, or by checking for pulse and breathing.

[Death Otter]

Wraith's question to her brought Death Otter to a stop, and she grimaced as a surge of irritation shivered over her.

She glanced back. "I just said I had no idea what happened to him," she growled. Then, because otherwise it seemed like a waste of socialization tolerance, Otter decided to elaborate.

"But, if I had to GUESS, I'd say he's probably in the same basic situation I was in. Drugged and kidnapped and stuffed in faraday cage. No idea who's running this operation, no idea why they took HIS gear but not MINE. In fact, since you and your gigantic friend out there came in from OUTSIDE you probably know more about all that than me."

Though even as she spoke she was drawing some inferences. Her kind getting snatched and grabbed wasn't unheard of, but this didn't feel like a megacorp operation to her, not even a plausibly deniable one. It was too shoestring, too many mistakes being made. It stank of understaffing, under-resourcing. Small-timer looking to curry favor maybe, or a new player trying to punch above their weight class. Once she got back on the grids, she'd find out more.

After a second, against her better judgement and despite the clawing need for connectivity, Death Otter added, "Do you know that guy?" while nodding at the dwarf.

[Muppet Man]

//Location: Downtown Puyallup/Seattle Metroplex/UCAS
//Time: <1152:00/2075-01-18> Combat round OVER
//Weather: <Heavy Overcast, Light Snow, 1C, Wind N 8kph, feels like -6C>
//Air Quality: <Monthly Average: Moderate (Yellow), Precipitation pH 2.6>

• Exterior:
  • Factory parking lot: two pairs of "chipheads" approaching trailers, the intention appears to be unhooking the trailers, Shrike and Stygge are in position here
  • City streets: large tractors (as in the tractor in a tractor-trailer rig) are approaching the trailers, but are currently in the street
  • Trucks: two trucks were approaching the entry to the parking lot/loading bay, but are slowing to a stop still on the street
• Interior:
  • Office Elevator shaft: Bushwack and Wraith are currently breaching the elevator.
  • Hidden basement: four of five Tir operators are visible, all unconscious. The fifth and Mulpa are no where to be seen from this vantage
  • Cell: in the hidden basement are a series of cells, the bomb knocked out the locks, some of them have been pushed open. Approximately 150m from elevator to cell area. The fifth Tir operative and Mulpa are in the cell room. Bomb/EMP fragments are in the hall by the fire door.
  • Factory: suspect five Tir operatives in this building as well.
• Trailers:
  • Trailer 1: riddled with bullet holes and other damage, full of yelling and other signs of conflict. The other is not active.
  • Trailer 2: no sign of movement inside

INSIDE OF A SUSPICIOUS SCONE FACTORY WITH DANGER WRITTEN ALL OVER IT OR IN THE DARK
Interior Scone Factory Secret Sub-Basement:

As Wraith and Death Otter cautiously banter, the wall at the end of the room dissolves -- as if by magic! With the concealment spell gone, the escape route is clearly visible. There is a sliding door that opens onto a broad stair. There are no lights on the stairway, so only the first few steps are visible. However, a body is clearly visible crumbled just inside the door. The more forensic minded might deduce that the body had been pulled away from the door and then left in a jumble.

There is no sound or light or additional air movement from the newly reveal passage.

However, if someone were to approach the body, they would recognize that it is one of the people Mulpa was talking to inside the building.

Before heading to visit Mulpa's unconscious body, Bushwack and the elf continue their conversation.

With a sense of brevity the elf describes his version of the events: they were supposed to hit this compound in two teams. One team was to secure a challenging heavy cyborg. The other team was to locate a group of prisoners. The target area was occupied, according to the bad intel, by a group of rogue hackers working on mind control using invasive AR/VR techniques. The prisoners were guinea pigs, the cyborg a potential success. Dead or alive for him. Alive for the others, but the elven team were taking them as a group somewhere. The elf gave him the "somewhere" the intonation that any runner knew meant somewhere was being confined by a new set of captors. He did see them dragging the already unconscious Mulpa away during the opposing forces retreat into a seemingly exitless room. The opposing force was supposedly just hackers and mundane security types, there was absolutely no indication that heavy hitter awakened types would be involved.

"So, we haven't even had time to call for help, and this damned area is so cut off from the Matrix that we've had trouble with contacting the other team. So no, we have no response team inbound. I'll sure as hell call them when we get out though. We revise of course when we get a report from the other team. But if we get my people out okay, there's really no need for us to do anything but exfil. Some guy in a chair is going to get a...lesson...about the importance of accurate threat assessment." The elf is weary, but as he recovers more he seems to regain some level of what probably is a lethal edge. "We will remember you and your...professionalism, it is rare in this world."

Recovered enough to move, the elf commando goes about waking his comrades with slap patches, but with more respectful placements. The gibber at each other softly in a delicate sounding language and gather up their gear.

OUTSIDE OF A SUSPICIOUS SCONE FACTORY WITH DANGER WRITTEN ALL OVER IT
General Area of Scone Factory

Interior of Semi-Trailer

Combat for Stygge and Shrike: No need for more initiative passes, you guys have knocked out everyone worth knocking out.
The sniper's bullets may not have been meant to murder Shrike, not immediately, but their noise might still cause his untimely death. The cyborg currently munching on an elf commando looks up at the sound. Clearly from Shrike's point of view, he can see the various sensors on the 'borg's head swivel in his direction.

It lets out a weird noise, like a turbo prop engine scrambled with a old dial up modem and then amplified to a scream. With unpleasant and oddly purposeful slowness, the borg sets the body down and unfolds to standing height. It's at least 3m tall and hunched over inside the container. It starts to move towards Shrike.

Stygge is close enough to hear the scream as swell, but the industrial noise around her masks some of the more chilling qualities. More importantly though, she has a harder time pinpointing its direction. Focusing on the task at hand though, she finds it easy to just meander into the row of parked trucks like she's meant to be there.

She selects a corporate owned truck (as opposed to an owner-operator) parked near the end of the row. She is able to bypass the rudimentary security. An operator's own truck would have idiosyncratic security, along with other customization that could cause problems, literally, down the road. The truck starts up and Stygge rolls away, the truck lumbering past the remaining vehicles. As she breeches 10kph an alarm starts to go off requesting additional access codes.

Apparently the alarm also triggered the driver's comm. In the rear view cameras, Stygge can see a trucker stand up quickly looking very confused then start to run towards his truck. There is no indication at the moment that the alarm has triggered a cut of switch of any kind.


SEVERAL HUNDRED METERS AWAY INSIDE AN ANONYMOUS BUILDING WITH GOOD SIGHTLINE TO A TRAILER SITTING OUTSIDE OF A SCONE FACTORY
Even as far away as he is, the scream from inside the trailer reaches Arthur's ears. It's not loud, but it is inhuman and somehow still disturbing. Through the scope he can see the trailer rock back and forth, something heavy is moving towards the elf commando.

---

INFO:

Truck Routes

Watching the major roads, Stygge notices a pilot car followed by a

, it appears to be following the same route to the factory.

Weather Game Effects

• Triple travel time anywhere in the Sprawl, with minimum of 1 hour.
• Getting anywhere requires a piloting/driving check Difficulty 2, if you're from Seattle or Portland, increase difficulty to 3
• Motorcycles are worse: difficulty 5
• Visibility: -1 (exterior); Dim Light (-3 visual)

Scone Factory Aerial View

Run Details

Phase 1:

• Overview: Human Resources Acquisition: Willing Subject:
  • Legal Name: Charla Ann Dalrymple Media Handle: @CharlDarlBaby Occupation: Media Personality/Influencer
  • Description: Age: 19 Metavariant: Human Skin: Brown Hair: Bald Known Affiliations: Humanis Policlub
• When: by 1/18/2075, delivery no later than 21:30.
• Where: Fairground Scone Factory, Puyallup, extract and deliver to Paine Field, Hangar 17, Everett
• Security: Site secured by mercenary guards, exact provider unknown. Thought to be a very veiled Ares team. Surveillance indicates between 12 and 16 mobile guards. One active Matrix cyberdeck has been noted emanating from the compound, our decker was brainfried in the exchange. Two magical active persons are on site periodically, never both at the same time. No indication of paranormal animals or warding.
• Pay: 32,000¥ +6,000¥ total, with 6,000¥ upfront
• Target: Information withheld until finalized contract agreement

Phase 2:

• Overview: Resource Management/Logistics
• When: 1/18/2075, 21:30
• Where: Paine Field, Hangar 17, Everett to 3000 NE 4th St, Renton, WA 98056
• Security: Unknown. If Phase 1 was executed quietly, opposition should be limited. Threat level will increase in relation to the amount of disruption caused during phase 1.
• Pay: 18,000¥ + 4,000¥ total, with 4,000¥ upfront (paid at delivery of phase 1)
• Target: (1) 1m x 1m x 2m container
• Note: Delivery vehicle will be provided for Phase 2

• Details:
  • Design:
  • Bakery: 4 stories tall, concrete first floor, metal siding upper floors, metal butterfly roof, significant HVAC and other roof penetrations
  • Warehouse: 3 stories stall, concrete walls, flat membrane roof with 2/3rd green roof (as in it's a garden), 2m parapet around roof
  • Office: 3 stories, flat membrane roof w/ 3/4 green roof, 1.5m parapet around roof
  • Parking lot: Asphalt paving, no planters, wheels stops at stalls adjacent to buildings only, 16 streetlights, each with a electric vehicle charging station
  • Landscaping: dirt or lava rock, xeriscape friendly plants around entrance to office. A large above ground concrete utility vault is connected to the office portion. A 1m deep, .5m wide trench follows the north side of the bakery. Covered walkways (metal roofing) connect the buildings
  • Ingress/Egress:
  • Bakery: 4 man doors at street level, 2 upper level door accessed by fire escapes/catwalks, catwalk connects to center portion of roof
  • Warehouse: 2 man doors at street level, 3 lading docks, 1 loading door at ground level, access to roof from interior stairway
  • Office: double entry door on ground floor, two emergency exits, access to roof from interior stairway
  • Fenestration:
  • Bakery: three small windows next to main entry door, clerestory windows on long side at about 30m above the finished grade of the parking lot
  • Warehouse: Main entry door has two sidelites and a transom window, remaining doors have transoms, three square windows at 1.5m above finish grade of the parking lot evenly spaced on each side of the building, six 1.5m x 3m skylights evenly spaced on roof
  • Office: Each floor has floor to ceiling glazing on all sides, glazing is "opaque", several portions of the windows system are operable egress windows

What the frag are you going to do now?

[Milk Toast]

Tucked behind his custom M1A rifle, Arthur saw his shots performing as intended...so far. That is: the massive cyborg was goose-stepping his way toward the door, the elf commando had NOT been ripped into hero kibbles, and said elf was also NOT peppering the building with automatic fire in an attempt to forcibly aerate Arthur's person.

Changing the magnification setting in his augmented natural eyes, he briefly scanned the larger area over the top of his iron sights but did not spot that huge troll and his fox-elf friend nor that tall redhead chick that drove off a minute ago. Thermographic coming off those radiators and the noise from the fans was lousy, but the heat bleeding through the metal in several rapidly cooling splatters told him the fireteam that went in was in bad shape. That or the massive blade rent and multiple bulletholes.

Feeling by memory inside his armor jacket, Arthur did a cathartic check for his towel and found it folded and ready for quickdraw.
Allas good to know whur mah towel ez., he thought.

Seeing the burly elf duck for cover brought a slight crinkle to his eyes.
He spoke to himself: Ain't yer day teh die, Bo.

Arthur timed the massive tread and estimated Time To Target at 6.7 seconds. A countdown sprang into life among the various AR feeds he was using to shoot. His smartlink fed a HUD of the data being sampled. Wind holding N 8kph. Light 37%. Elevation to target -16.3m. Distance to target 497.6m. Azimuth 2374 mils.
The virtual crosshairs shifted 1 mil left.
Arthur repeated his mantra learned from ten thousand repetitions of calming: "Don't Panic".

He focused his attention on a tennis ball sized spot at the edge of the trailer door where that head would appear. Then a pingpong ball target. Finally, a marble sized spot came into razor focus. There was nothing else. No burly elf mucking up his target area. No band of rascals on another job. No commandos getting butchered. Noise faded, the lights, the fans, the people walking by, even that horrible screeching...nothing else. Just the target. As the massive mechanical head ducked out of the confining crate, he unknowingly dipped his head for the proverbial headsman's axe. His head crossed directly into Arthur's sights.

The rifle coughed and Arthur sent 12¥ of death into the cerebellum of his target. The slap of the armor piercing round came almost a full second later (0.937s according to the smartlink).

First: Two Aim actions (smartgun enabled +2 Acc and dice)
IP#1 12+3d6: [3 3 4] =21
Free~Called Shot: Vitals (+2 DV)
Complex~ Doubletap (+1 DV, 2 rounds)
Spending 1 Edge to reroll misses
18d6, 15P ap-5 Acc 11 No Defense Test (I think)
18d6>4:  [2 5 6 2 3 3 2 1 4 3 2 5 6 4 4 5 2 5 ] = 6
12d6>4:  [3 3 5 3 4 3 5 2 4 3 1 2] = 2
23P ap -5

IF the monster is dead:
Arthur smiled to himself and said the sniper's eulogy: “Target down”.
He quickly gathered his shooting mat, put his rifle lovingly back into its case along with his sand sock and camp chair. He then swapped his tac vest and helmet for the lined coat and synthskin mask made up like a young Elvis Presley(may he live forever), stuffed the gear in a cheap duffel bag and briskly walked downstairs to his car. The Metalink didn't have the optics to capture a good picture of the target and his eyes didnt have recording capability.
A moment of excess seized control of his tongue. “Drek! Thet keeb gonna be jumpy now and Ah cain't wait fer him teh bugger off. Gotta run a close pass and play nice wit em. Ah hope teh Elvis Almighty he's feelin' reasonable-like an' lets me get a pic.”
He sighed. Thet fireteam gonna need a medic too. No man lef' behin'.

He pulls his “Boom Stick” from its mount in the trunk: a fully accessorized Enfield AS-7 combat shotgun in menacing matte black. Attaching the sling and dropping the business end unceremoniously into the passenger footwell, Arthur gets the defrost going, sets the wipers, and carefully urges the Americar around the corner driving hesitantly up to the trailer. He nervously approached the scene with sweaty palms.

IF: The monster is not dead, shoot again!
16d6 14P ap -5 Acc 9 (2 SA shots, Called Shot:Vitals) IP#2 and IP#3
16d6>4 = 5, 16d6>4 = 5, 16d6>4 = 5, 16d6>4 = 4
19P, 19P, 19P, 18P all at ap -5

IF: Shrike fires on him while engaging the monster: Ignore Shrike and continue to fire at the cyborg until dead.
Good cover, R+I 12+4, B+Ar 3+19
Dodge: 16d6>4 = 4 Resist: ?

IF: Shrike fires on him afterward, Arthur will duck into cover and flash his commlink Active/Passive three times. Then when the firing stops, take another peek and flash his flashlight in white light at the burly elf three times as well.

[Stygge]

I thought things seemed a bit too easy.

When Stygge hears that scream, she silently hopes that it has nothing to do with her mission.

She has a much more pressing concern when the truck decides it doesn't like her driving it after all. Sure, it might have just alerted its true owner, but if she ignores its protests, it might decide to shut down. Or worse. She brings the truck to a halt and disconnects in order to deal with the approaching trucker.

Stygge considers her options and quickly rules out both violence and hacking - one is too messy and doesn't solve anything, the other is beyond her abilities. She needs the truck to consider her an ally, and for that, she needs access codes. This trucker no doubt has them, so the best bet is to get them out of him.

However, an ordinary trucker probably won't appreciate the nuances and complexities of Stygge's mission, especially not when it could bite him in the hoop in the form of docked pay, so honesty won't be the best policy this time. Threats might work, or they might backfire horribly, so the elf rigger considers them a last resort. That leaves deception. Fortunately, Stygge has learned a little lesson in trickery.

Once the trucker is just on the other side of the door, it's time to

.

"Your truck? I'm sorry but I was assigned to this truck today. At least, that's what the memo from this morning said. You didn't see it? Basically, the clowns in admin fragged up the rota. Again. That's what, the fifth time this month? I swear my right buttcheek could organise better than them! Anyway, I can't drive this thing without the passcodes, so ..."

If that works, Stygge thanks the trucker and gets going, making sure to wait until his back is turned before going too far or too fast. Wouldn't do any good to trick him into giving her the passcodes only to give away her true intentions a split second later. Leave that to the cartoon villains.

If it doesn't work, Stygge pulls a gun on the trucker as she puts

Intimidation:

into action. "Look, I'm leaving here with a truck, no matter what. You can either still be alive when I do, or not."

[Wraith]

Location: Puyallup, Seattle Metroplex
Condition: Ok
Broadcasted SIN: <hidden mode, teammates have authorization to see her>

"But, if I had to GUESS, I'd say he's probably in the same basic situation I was in. Drugged and kidnapped and stuffed in faraday cage. No idea who's running this operation, no idea why they took HIS gear but not MINE. In fact, since you and your gigantic friend out there came in from OUTSIDE you probably know more about all that than me."

Wraith sighs inwardly, cursing her distraction, remembering far too late that this other person had indeed said that previously. "At one point I thought so, but things have gone far beyond clusterfuck at this point," the foxelf grumbles, glancing back out through the door to where Bushwack continues to abuse Tir elves. "What was supposed to be a 'simple' extraction turned pear-shaped the moment those guys dropped in. Maybe even before that."

After a second, against her better judgement and despite the clawing need for connectivity, Death Otter added, "Do you know that guy?" while nodding at the dwarf.

A moment of hesitation, then a brief nod. "One of our team. Was supposed to make contact and provide some inside-eyes. As you can see... something went wrong, and we are still not certain what." Still eyeing the unknown woman carefully, Wraith made her way over to Mulpa, kneeling and doing what she can check his vitals, pulse and breathing most particularly.


First Aid 5 dice (sadly no first aid kit on hand)

[Death Otter]

Death Otter nodded at Wraith, acknowledging her answers. Most of her attention was on the Tir commandos though.

"Hey," she said to the elves. "You said you were going to move the 'guinea pigs' to some other location. Considering whoever sent you out here clearly didn't mind throwing you into a MOUNTAIN of shit, maybe you wouldn't mind doing the same for them."

"Where were you going to take me? Or, if you don't know, WHO were you going to deliver me to?"

She smiled a thin, humorless smile.

"I promise I'll only use the info to make trouble for them."

Then Otter glanced back at Wraith and added, "Out of morbid curiosity, who were you going to extract? Seems like everyone's wants something out of this place. Including me. I want me out too."

"In fact? Lets talk while we walk, huh? Once we get out of the faraday cage we can hook back up with our respective teams of mercenary killsquads, get our comm-messages, download the latest MEMES and WEATHER REPORTS. You know! The whole DEAL."

She motioned with shooing gestures towards the exit, though the troll was still standing in the doorway there, and she seemed reluctant to get too close before she was sure it wouldn't end poorly for her.