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Topic Started: Mar 2 2016, 09:35 PM (36 Views)
Fenix
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Sgt. Thomas had served the U.C.A.S. for well over a decade and yet somehow still landed the shit jobs. Sure it beats getting shot up in a harsh desert or jungle – especially these days when the environment was just as likely to kill you as the guys with guns – but 13 hour drives escorting cargo was hardly his idea of a better alternative. His team consisted of six soldiers, 3 to a vehicle, one on either end of the box truck reportedly carrying classified cargo.

Classified, he thought, bet ya ten to nothing it’s just some new vending machines for the officer’s quarters or some stupid drek.

He kicked back in the passenger seat of the rear vehicle, Ares Alpha slung across his chest. Pvt. Cortez spouted out some drek from behind the wheel about how they didn’t make snack cakes – like the one he was currently stuffing into his face – like they did back home in Aztlan. Apparently the Stuffer Shacks were better stocked the closer you got to the “mother land” or some nonsense. Guy was always full of shit. Thomas thought maybe he’d put in for some cyberears next so he could shut them off every now and then. At least Cpl. Boyd was sitting quietly in the back playing some game on his comm.

They were on the final stretch up the I-5 passing through Olympia, about to cross into U.C.A.S. territory out of Salish-Shidhe Council territory when he started getting a funny feeling like he was being watched. Like they were all being watched. He flipped through the vision spectrums of his cybereyes, and failing that decided the check the icons around him in the Matrix. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Grid Guide was leading them on the right path, all of the vehicles systems were operating properly, and the only other AROs of note around were other vehicles and AR billboards.

He scanned over the box truck they were escorting ahead of them and did notice something out of place with it’s icon…a trio of jolly rogers?

Fuck, MARKs! We’ve got hackers!
Before he could say anything the quiet night air was alive with machine-gun fire as the lead vehicle was blown to oblivion by the troll on the bridge with an MMG. He looked like one of those mechs you see in anime, covered head to toe in heavy mil-spec battle armor, adding considerably to his already impressive frame. It shone bright chromes and emerald greens in the street lights.

The box truck slowed to a halt – whether it was due to the hacker or the fact that the Humvee ahead of him was a slag of metal now was irrelevant – which caused Cortez to throw their Humvee into manual operation with an override command to Grid Guide and swerve to avoid the truck’s rear bumper. Cortez and Thomas grabbed their Alphas and peeled out of the vehicle, sticking close and falling back to the rear to take cover from the incoming fire. Boyd plugged into the turret controls and began scanning for threats.

The troll had stopped firing to reload. The lead Humvee was fragged, but Thomas could see Pvt. Jackson and Pvt. Myers peel out of their vehicle as well. No sign of Cpl. Taylor – he must have taken a hit in the Troll’s barrage. The box truck had a pair of armed guards peeling out as well, rifles in hand.

One of the truck guards was first over comms, “contacts! We’ve got drones, low and fast!” a trio of MCT-Nissan Roto-Drones flew overhead spewing lead. Myers and Jackson took cover behind their Humvee as they sped over and fired on the truck guards. As they came back up to take firing positions to help out the guards, more fire came their way.

Thomas triggered his Wired Reflexes and everything slowed. The world around him moved at half speed and sounds became long and drawn out. The Roto-Drones were firing mounted assault rifles at the guards – who were holding up for now – and his men from the first car were taking fire from what sounded like a large pistol caliber. He looked that direction and saw another individual in the same kind of armor as the troll. Chromes and greens, much smaller frame. Slimmer – probably female – wielding a pair of Ares Predators. She moved swiftly between cars like water through rapids all the while placing rounds on target. She had to be cybered to the gills or a fucking adept.

“Boyd, take down those drones!” The turret swiveled, only to fall off of the Humvee onto the ground next to Thomas. He checked their flanked to see another one retracting the monofilament whip that had just cut their big guns like butter. This one was obviously cybered, as evidenced by his freaky raptor cyber legs and cyber tail.

He broke into a sprint to close the distance – fuck he’s fast! – drawing a katana off of his back as he moved. Thomas and Cortez were able to squeeze off two rounds each before his blade ran Cortez through. The shots that had hit merely plinked off of his armor like pellets. Thomas rolled around to the side of the Humvee, hoping to buy just enough seconds for some support.

The troll on the bridge was gone. The woman who had taken on Jackson and Myers was casually strolling past their corpses and on to clean up the truck guards. They weren’t doing much better, bullet-ridden and beyond salvation, circled by drones who were just watching for further contacts. Another one – much lighter on the armaments – was approaching the truck. With one wave of his hand the asphalt converged into a hulking earth spirit who proceeded to break open the doors of the truck and remove a box. Fucking mage Thomas thought to himself. His thoughts were broken by the sounds of glass shattering, as raptor-boy behind him pulled Boyd through the window, slicing him open with his sword once he was clear.

Thomas looked on in dismay as he felt another presence approach. “g’day, mate!” he heard as he turned, seeing a gaunt elf wearing some stupid leather hat out of an old flatvid. He raised his Alpha, but was met with an old 19th-century revolver in his gut. The round tore through his stomach and his biomonitor lit up his cybereyes with warnings, that he should seek medical attention as soon as possible.

The elf smiled a fanged grin at Thomas as he bit down on his neck, and it all went dark.

==================================================================================

The playback ended there. Sgt. Thomas’s cybereyes lost power as he died, but you had gotten what you needed.

“Mr. Smith, we have done everything in our power to suppress coverage of this event. So far we’ve been able to spin it as a massive equipment malfunction and subsequent multi-vehicular crash, which is a miracle in and of itself.”

Mr. Doe was one of those shady blank-slate types who used cliché nicknames and stayed anonymous. He didn’t go by Smith because he reserved that for his agents. He didn’t go by Johnson because the shadowrunning community had turned that name into something else and saturated the “market” all to hell with it. So John Doe would have to do. He was your handler, and right now he had something that needed handling.

“What these guys stole is classified to the general public. Between you, me, and these four walls Sgt. Thomas and his team were transporting nuclear material from a decommissioned missile silo from back in the days of the United States of America. Seems like someone caught wind of it and hit the transport on the way.

“That elf who killed Thomas, we’ve identified him as Joey ‘The Huntsman.’ Used to be a freelance assassin. He’s been seen working with a group lately. That team who hit them goes by Los Muertes, Spanish for ‘The Dead.’ They answer to Joey, and have been seen aiding a rising gang in Seattle called the Neo-Misfits. They’ve been giving the Mafia and Yakuza families a run for their money, but it looks like the tide is starting to turn back against them.

“Back to these guys, not too much is known about them. They’re a team of shadowrunners who made a name for themselves during the war in Amazonia pulling ops. That was also the first time they’re known to have been working under Joey. Could be a connection there.

“Ferreus seems to be the guy in charge, he’s a mage. Jessie McClure is the gunslinger adept. Timmy Little is the machine-gun toting troll on the bridge. Viper is raptor-boy. Craneo Azul is their hacker, and Geppetto is the rigger. We think those last two are dwarves. That’s all we’ve got on them. They’ve been good at covering themselves and switching up their aliases. Those might not even be current anymore.

“The best way to get to them will be to get flush them out from their current post with the Neo-Misfits. They’ve proven hard to track as well, but we hear there are some rumblings in the mafia community. One of the families has been taken out from within, and this new face is the one that’s been making the most headway in dealing with the Misfits. Infiltrate them, join the fight, and secure that payload.”
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