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Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

punkey posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-18 18:27:36
FTE laughs and figures while Wazir isn't gonna last long once the team gets up there, it can at least do its part by killing the man's sons in front of him first. The Sheen charges into the room firing, hoping it lasts long enough to cause some friendly fire at least.

(FTE Shoot: 2d10 vs. 1d6 (x2): 5 vs. 1 = Dead, 10 vs. 5 = dead)

While Wazir's men in the Turai armor scramble for their beamers, FTE's already closed most of the gap across the room. A sweep of its arm puts accelerator rounds through the heads of both of Wazir's sons before they even get out of their chairs and splatters their brains on the wall behind them and splashes their blood across Wazir's face.

(Guards Shoot: 1d6 vs. 1d6: 4 vs. 2, 4 vs. 5, 3 vs. 2, 5 vs. 1 (No DR/Aspects), 2 vs. 4, 3 vs. 4
Guards Damage: 2d8 vs. 2d10: 6 vs. 7 = 12/18 Shock / 7 vs. 4 = 5/18 Shock, 7/10 Wound / 5 vs. 8 = 0/18 Shock)

And then Wazir's guards finally fumble-fuck their way into holding their chamakanas the right way around and open fire. Half of their shots just hit the walls, but the three that splash into FTE's shell are enough to instantly shock its systems into automatic shutdown. FTE suddenly appears in the dataspace of the local Sheen servers, a timer in its consciousness telling it how soon its shell will be back online.

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

punkey posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-18 18:01:07
FTE slid past Hale as it stepped through the hole in the roll-up door, popped its cloak on, and stepped up the stairs. The weight of the shell made the stairs creak as it climbed its way up, the thudding of each step making it clear that it wasn't really intending this on being a stealth entry. At the top of the stairs, only one door.


Wazir sipped his tea. Honestly, he was disappointed with the traitors and abominations - his tea was starting to get cold, he was expecting to be dead by now. From what his Chinese contacts had said, they were killers of the highest skill that even his best men would be unable to stop. Which, of course, was entirely the point. With three cameras in the well-lit room, all streaming video to a off-site server (fortunately kept off until this moment, or else it would be fried along with his sons' cell phones), their death, unsanctioned by any nation and against unarmed men, would be the rallying cry to force them off of Earth and halt their campaign to eradicate his way of life - all ways of life on this planet. Wazir had recorded a few manifestos in the past, mostly just saber-rattling to keep up appearances, but this one, he believed: the nations of the world would be thanking him for revealing these aliens for what they truly were, invaders.

Finally, he hears steps thudding up the stairs outside the door. Mehtar tries to stand, but Wazir raises his right hand. "Steady, my son. Face them with pride, for they will find their violence returned hundred-fold."

Front Toward Enemy's composite-armored foot makes short work of the door and the Sheen steps into the room, internally wincing as it braces for multiple impacts. It ignores the humans, scanning instead for active recording devices.

"Sarah Connor?" it deadpans.

(FTE Search: 1d8+1d10 vs. 2d6 = 1, 1 vs. 1, 1)

Holy shit that's more dudes than FTE was expecting. Six - not five, six guys in cloaked Turai armor plus Wazir and his two sons sitting at a table sipping on rotting leaves in hot water kinda takes its instincts for a ride, and its sconces only notice the three cameras - one on each wall to either side and one pointed right at him behind Wazir and his sons - because they're literally just screwed onto the wall with no attempt to hide them whatsoever.

Surprise number 2: the barrage of beamer fire, or shit, even AK rounds, doesn't come. Instead, there's kind of an awkward pause as it stands there, cloaked in the middle of the room, while Wazir and his sons just stare at it, eyes wide, waiting for...oooh, waiting for it to kill them.

"Sorry, I think I have the wrong house?" FTE says apologetically before putting rounds into cameras. They're the priority, and whatever happens after that... well, it'd just have to make it up as it went like everything else. It raises its arm and sweeps the room, blowing out all three cameras with a staccato burst from its accelerator. That takes a moment to register with the room before Wazir shouts, "'Kill him!'"

Re: IC 5 - Hamburg - Day 2

Gatac posted in IC 5 - Hamburg - Day 2 on 2018-10-17 18:13:04
Blake pauses in his work to look up at the ceiling, and take a deep breath through his nose. The ex-SEAL wishes he could be surprised by this, but the only surprise here was the speed which led DeSilva(?) to contact him. Which in itself is very telling.

He responds with only slight exasperation, "You may have one moment. If it does not catch my interest, I'm hanging up." Hopefully, this will discourage more dominance head-games. Blake is done with those right now.
"I assume you're surveilling K Group to go after an item of mutual interest in the vault," deSilva(?) says. "We can deliver the item to you."
"Not interested, thank you," Blake says blandly, and hangs up. He lets out another sigh through his nose and gets back to work.

The phone looks like it might threaten to activate again for a minute or so, but finally the screen turns off automatically. No further attempt is made to call in.


Well, Tim's not gonna let anyone else beat him to see his sister. While Mason and Alira do cool spy discussions, Tim rushes after his sis, deftly weaving through the backstage crowd. The door to her dressing room threatens to fall closed behind her, but he manages to get his foot in just before it does so. One lock he won't have to pick tonight, at least.

"Sydney Raincloud Barstow, what have you done to your clothes?" Tim calls out, taking a swig from a bottled water as he weaves through the barely-controlled chaos. Where did he get the water bottle? Only God knows, and he ain't telling.
Sydney's jaw literally drops as she lays eyes on Tim, there in the flesh at her concert in Hamburg AND HOW THE FRACK - "Timmy!" she shouts, grin spreading over her face as she runs over to hug him. "You're supposed to be saving the world!" She drags him into the dressing room, letting the door fall closed behind them.
Tim returns the hug and immediately knows it was a mistake that started when he picked up the brick outside K Group, and the realization renders him speechless for a long moment. He never threw that brick for WILDCARD, and Tim wonders which side of the police line Operations would be standing in, or Mason, or any of them.
"I see you're doing your part, right?" he responds, sidestepping and hoping Syd doesn't call him on it. "I was here for the protests and you were here and when does that ever happen? I am pumped for this show!"
"That's so great you're here!" Sydney says, continuing the hug. "How the hell have you been? I swear, with that that dodgy internet of yours, you must've been somewhere like, fourth world?"
"I have the worst luck with picking carriers, you know that," Tim says. "One of these days I'll find one that actually has service that matches their map on their site, but whatever, how are you doing with these protests and the cops and all that? Nobody's tried to arrest you yet?"
"Pah, me?" Sydney laughs. "I'm a star, baby. The label pays our fines." Noting Tim's genuine concern, she turns down the persona a notch or two. "Seriously, though, nothing to worry about. We're not cool enough for trouble like that. You know I mean what I say on insta but we're a brand, make baklavas not balaclavas, that whole thing. Besides, someone sprung for extra security tonight. Saw the suit-est suit that ever suit-ed with them. I'm pretty sure everything's gonna be alright." She smiles. "Besides, we've been booked for this gig for months, you said you're here for the protests. Pretty sure you should worry about yourself first."
"If I was worried about myself, I wouldn't be protesting. It's good to see you, Syd. I'll see you out there." Tim hugs his sister again.
"Yeah, let's keep it rock and roll," Sydney says. "You...grab yourself a beer or something, and come out when you hear the feedback. We'll talk after, a'ight?" She hugs him again and kisses him on the cheek. "Ciao!"

And just like that, Hurricane Sydney has left the dressing room. Tim finds a smile creeping over his face. Best stay out of her way now while she works.


Mason slowly picks his way backstairs, motherfuckers set to receive as he scans passing technicians, roadies and quote-unquote event managers for signs of danger. Nothing sticks out so far, so he just notes the various routes of ingress and egress as he passes them and checks the classic hiding spots for stashed weapons. Seems like you're the only ones smuggling guns in, though. Mason's search is interrupted by a loud clatter off to his side.

"Fuck!" a young woman groans, trying to keep on her good left foot while steadying herself against the wall. Her right ankle is tightly wrapped and off the ground, but her crutch is very much on the ground and out of her reach. Must be Missy, if Sydney's tumblr posts are anything to go by. She looks at Mason. "Uh, shit...helfen Sie können?" she tries in broken German.
Mason momentarily weighs to pretend to be German or American, but ultimately decides to keep things simple. "Ich werde das für dich aufheben," he says, bending at the knees to pick up her crutch. "Here you go," he says with a smile and a German accent as he hands it back to her.
"Oh, uh...thanks, dude!" Missy says, grabbing the crutch from him. "Sorry, my German sucks." She laughs a bit. "Hey, uh, can you come with me, actually? I need someone to help me set up my pedals and our roadies seem to be MIA."

Mason looks around to make sure someone's covering this area, or failing that, that there's no way in or out. Only one other way out of this hallway, with a burly-looking German dude with a SECURITY t-shirt standing at the ready there. Looks secure enough.

"Of course," Mason replies with the same kind smile, following her out onto the stage.

The stage is, frankly, a fucking mess. Roadies are setting shit up, other roadies are dismantling shit and carrying it outside, while a newly-arrived Sydney Barstow and a woman with a very secure hold on her electric cello - Carla? - are already deep in discussion.

"But do we have enough power outside?" Carla asks.
"The manager said it's fine, they just need to do another drop and not hang everything on the same cable," Sydney says. "And so what if we blow a breaker? That's fucking rock and roll."
"Syd, we're putting on a show," Carla says. "People paid good money to not see us fuck this up."
"They can have their damn money back if they want it," Sydney says. "Less business, more rawk, yeah? We're not gonna fuck it up."
"Looks a bit like you're fucking up," Missy says, limping towards them. "Hey, where's Mon?"
"Still puking," Sydney says. She looks past Missy at Mason. "And hey-o there," she says. "Nice suit. Label flew you in?"
"He's security, silly," Missy says. "This is..." She looks at Mason and laughs. "Ohmygawd, sorry, I didn't get your name."
"Matthäus Maurer, Miss Barstow," Mason replies. "Your brother brought us on."
Sydney looks stunned. "Oh, that bastard," Sydney says. "Fucks off with the Red Cross to God knows where, shows up all casual-like and still wants to big brother me." She sighs. "Well, by all means, stick around, earn your paycheck."
"I asked him to help me with the pedals," Missy says.
"Ohhh, that's a lot of pressure to put on Mr. Maurer," Sydney says. "You know what you're getting into, right? If they're a millimeter off, she'll rip off your head and shit down your neck."
"Syd!" Missy protests. "Come on. Play nice."
Sydney laughs. "Just kidding!" she adds. "Now come on, get your shit outside. We're supposed to be sound-checking already."

Mason keeps up the polite "yes ma'am that's very funny ma'am" play while taking the chance to be up on the stage to survey the whole crowd.

(Mason spends a point of Notice.)

As chaotic as the stage inside looked, the stage outside is like watching Noah and family hammering together the ark as the water comes to their ankles. They may sing no songs about roadies in Valhalla, but these guys are really putting in the work, assembling something band-worthy as fast as humanly possible. Sydney draws the cheers from the crowd as she walks out in front, Carla gladly keeping in her shadow even as Syd throws up the horns and swerves closed to the hastily erected barricades to high-five a few lucky fans. As Mason helps Missy along, he spots a familiar face in the crowd: one of Bogomil's remaining men, Mitko Tsvetanov according to Blake's intel - very much not the fighter of their group, so probably here for reconnaissance or support of something else. Mason sees Mitko turn away from the stage and slowly wind his way through the outside crowd towards the Gallerie. Mason's pretty sure Mitko hasn't made him.

"Ein Verdächtiger nähert sich der Gallerie," Mason says into his sleeve.(edited)
"Got him," one of the "real" security guys replies on the channel. Mason spots another dude with a SECURITY t-shirt and short-cropped blond hair step towards Mitko and stop him. There's a brief discussion before Mitko spreads his arms and gets his shit patted down the slow and thorough way.
"Yo, what's up?" Sydney asks from the side. "You're doing that Secret Service thing."
"Just a rowdy drunk," Mason replies. "He is being helped. So, you need assistance with setting up?" He puts the smile back on.
"Missy!" Sydney calls. "Explain your shit to the gentleman."

As Mason helps Missy get situated at her drum kit, another young woman with a buzzcut and one of those "strategic" loose tops designed to show off her bra staggers from backstage towards the stage.

"Yo, Mon!" Sydney calls to her. "You get all the Schnitzel out?"
"Fuck you," Monique replies. "I'm never doing Jaegerbombs with you again."
"I've heard that one before," Sydney says.
"Suspect searched," the security guy radios. "Nothing suspicious on him. You wanna let him in?"
"Ja, lass ihn rein," Mason replies.
As Mitko is let into the building, Mason finishes up nudging the pedals for the drums into the right position. "Thanks, dude!" Missy calls to him, then Mason follows the other roadies as they get off the stage.

Just then, the amps kick on as Monique delivers the first thrums from her bass.
"Okay, djentledudes, you know how this works, it's a sound check, alright?" Sydney says into the microphone. "We wanna make sure you hear us, so gimme a YEAH! when we're loud enough. Come on, Mon, show us what you got!"
Monique speeds up the bassline as someone dials the amps from 8 to 9.
"I could listen to that all night!" Syd says. "Okay, Carla, say cello to the crowd!"
Carla puts the bow to her electric cello and draws it over the strings for one big distorted note, then settles into a rhythm to accompany Monique.
"Ain't that fucking classy!" Sydney shouts. "Missy, come on, show us what you got on the drums!"
Missy does a quick roll over the cymbals.
"Hold on, hold on!" Sydney shouts, and on cue, everybody stops playing. "I'm not hearing it. Are you hearing it?"

The crowd shouts "No!"

"Well, fuck me!" Sydney says. "That all you got, Missy?"

Missy double-taps the bass drum, sending the crowd into a cheer. Sydney grins, then starts laying down the opening notes of "SpinKick!" on her guitar.

"YEAH!" the crowd shouts back.
"Fucking A!" Sydney shouts. "Djent to the End is what we came here to do, Hamburg! We are A Complete Sentence!"
"NO YOU'RE NOT!" the in-crowd shouts back.
"Well, what is?" Sydney shouts.
"WESLEY SNIPES IS!" everybody shouts.
"You're damn right!" Sydney shouts, raises her arm and then sends it thundering across the strings, starting the shred as the others pick up the tempo.


Just then, Alira gets on the internal team comms. "I got nothing in the crowd, Masie," she says. "How's it looking on your end?"
"Where's our Bulgarian friend?" Mason asks.
"Looks like he headed straight to a restroom inside," Alira says. "Couldn't get too close without getting made."
"Can you take the stage?" he asks.
"Yeah, I got it," Alira responds.
"Then I'll go introduce myself," Mason says.

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

punkey posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-17 18:00:35
"Because if he's waiting to broadcast us killing him to CNN, having explosives flying through his windows might be a bad idea," Garrett says.

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

Admiral Duck Sauce posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-17 17:39:47
"I'd prefer not to blow myself up on purpose," FTE says. "Otherwise you could just spearbomb through the windows."

It pauses.

"Why aren't we spearbombing through the windows again?"

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

e of pi posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-13 20:22:49
Luis nods. "Sounds good to me. He thinks for a second. "Actually, we've had good luck with some bombs of our own. FTE, you feel like having some area of effect if it comes to it? I've got some more explosives."

Re: Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3

punkey posted in Jade Imperium - Afghanistan, Pt. 3 on 2018-10-11 23:19:03
"Fuck," Garrett says at the bottom of the stairs, and pauses.
"Any bright ideas, oh Smiling Beast?" Hale asks from the back of the line.
"I'm thinking," Garrett says.
"Might want to think a bit faster, lahna," Ngawai says.

Garrett stares at the stair in front of him for a few moments longer, then snaps his fingers - well, he tries to through the metal gauntlet of the Turai armor. "FTE, how attached are you to that shell?"
“It’s so last 30 seconds,” it responds, catching on. “I was thinking something in red would go nicer with my pumps.”
Garrett nods. "We back out, FTE goes up the stairs. If it's a bomb, we're behind cover when FTE kicks the door in. If it's a camera or set of cameras, FTE should be able to take them out before getting trashed."