Vancouver oh my god

<Antioch|GM> "Up and at 'em, newbie."
<Antioch|GM> "It's your first big job."
<Antioch|GM> SOMA's hideout is a repurposed harbor warehouse, partitioned by rusted sheets of corrugated metal.
<Antioch|GM> Sprocket's standing outside the entrance of your own little corner of the world, mangled jet engines mid-assembly, mounted on tables, the wall, dangling from the ceiling.
<Antioch|GM> "Suit up."
<Antioch|GM> "We don't wanna keep the Legionnaires waiting." ||
<Herger|Jericho> "When did I change my name to Newbie? Pretty sure it was Jericho.
<Herger|Jericho> Whose to say though, the hazing thing your doing is cute though. Just eh, if your gonna top the Army then step it up a bit, yeah?
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<Herger|Jericho> I stop what I'm doing as I speak. Piecing together the scrap pieces of metal and strapping them into a cohesive unit of my Junkyard armor. "Well, Fuck it. Lead the way boss." ||
<Antioch|GM> Hostage and Sidewinder flank her as you exit, already geared in their Tinker suits.
<Antioch|GM> Hostage's expression is visibly nasty beneath the dark-visored helmet, grin showing mangled teeth in poor repair.
<Antioch|GM> Sidewinder's Tinker gear is a bodybuilder's facsimile, hundreds of micromissiles ready to launch from absurdly huge shoulders, forearms.
<Antioch|GM> "Up and at 'em, kiddos. Time's a'wastin'."
<Antioch|GM> Past the scrapyard south of your harborside base, up the ramp to the higher tier of Vancouver.
<Antioch|GM> Heh. You haven't seen metal burnished to this sheen in weeks - your suit feels distinctly out of place, a hulking, rusted wreck.
<Antioch|GM> You're rather quickly aware that you're not meeting at the Legionnaires' building - rather, as you travel, a vehicle drives past, a white unmarked van.
<Antioch|GM> The rear door opens, a man in dark fabric, flak jacket, military-issue weaponry gestures to you. "Get in." ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Oh shit boys, I'm having flashbacks." I throw the man a sarcastic salute. "Hooah." I say under my breath as I crawl in. ||
<Antioch|GM> Hostage and Sidewinder seat themselves completely quietly. Sprocket, in a simple outfit save for the intricate, ticking clockwork mask, sets two briefcases on the floor of the van.
<Antioch|GM> "Soooo, what's the job, bossman?"
<Antioch|GM> Inside, two Legionnaires sit - Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi, Tinkertech sword not only evident but a work of mechanical masterpiece, is idle, barely interested in the newcomers, while Siegfried, is not is his traditional warrior garb, stylized dragonscale armor.
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<Antioch|GM> "Save it for when we get out of town. We're dropping off the grid, first."
<Antioch|GM> "Righty-ho." ||
<Herger|Jericho> I glance to either side. In my life I've learned enough that even if I didn't know these two by name, I'd know they were big dogs. So, what they doing with bottom feeders like us?
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<Herger|Jericho> "Shit" I mumble under my breath. Well, not like I have much choice now. "Hey man, is it chill to smoke in here?" ||
<Antioch|GM> "No," Kusanagi replies. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Figures" nothing left to do but sit and way. ||
<Antioch|GM> You take 99 north out of Vancouver, seeing the bridge over English Bay and Vancouver Harbor as you pass over it.
<Antioch|GM> "The fuck, man, my UI just shorted out," Hostage snaps.
<Antioch|GM> "That's supposed to happen," Siegfried responds. ||
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<Herger|Jericho> "Oh Joy" ||
<Antioch|GM> "We'll speak shortly."
<Antioch|GM> Shortly turns to be more than twenty minutes later, taking a winding, circuitous route along the shoreway.
<Antioch|GM> A small craft floats in the bay.
<Antioch|GM> "We're changing vehicles," Siegfried announces. ||
<Herger|Jericho> I cast a sideways glance at Sprocket||
<Antioch|GM> Sprocket shrugs, grabs her two briefcases, and heads towards the boat, before Siegfried blocks her with an arm.
<Antioch|GM> Twenty seconds later, the driver calls back, "We're clear."
<Antioch|GM> The arm drops.
<Antioch|GM> Sprocket makes her way onto the small craft, Seigfried and Kusanagi leading the way.
<Antioch|GM> Sidewinder follows, Hostage trailing the group sulkily. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Man Hostage, you look SOOO happy to be here." I whisper as I march behind him, head held high. Keeping my place at the bottom of the pole. ||
<Antioch|GM> You're ignored.
<Antioch|GM> Just like every time you've tried to interact with him.
<Antioch|GM> Everyone, sans the driver, is aboard the ship now, and it skips off into the bay.
<Antioch|GM> "So, wha-"
<Antioch|GM> Sidewinder's cut off.
<Antioch|GM> "Save your questions." ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Where do babies come from?" I chuckle softly, eyes scanning around me the entire time. ||
<Antioch|GM> "Shut up, metal man," Kusanagi replies, drawing his sword.
<Antioch|GM> A far larger boat draws closer, in the distance. ||
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<Herger|Jericho> "Aight Boss, just some humor." I eye the Boat wearily, sizing it up as I approach. ||
<Antioch|GM> "Listen up."
<Antioch|GM> "We're intercepting this shipment."
<Antioch|GM> "Payment in cash and anything you can steal - I don't give a damn what you take, my job is seeing that every scrap of metal and equipment on this boat gets sent to the bottom of the bay, or gets put in your hands."
<Antioch|GM> "No questions? Good." ||
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<Herger|Jericho> I lean over to Sprocket's ear. "Somehow I don't feel these guys are gonna tell us much more. Mighta mentioned I'm ex-military and in my experience a mission where we have no map, no layout, no plan, and absolutely no idea what kind of opposing force we're up against is what we Jarheads called a Suicide Mission." I glance around, "End of the day you
<Herger|Jericho> r the boss I signed up with. But them's my two bits." ||
<Antioch|GM> Sprocket nods, taking in your words.
<Antioch|GM> "Any idea what we're getting into here, boys?"
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<Antioch|GM> "Shipment of rare crystals, fabricated crystals, tinker-grade metamaterials, megawatt-output electrical discharge devices, prototype forcefield generators."
<Antioch|GM> Sidewinder's head jerks up, at full attention. ||
<Herger|Jericho> My ears prick up to. God, I'd kill for some better materials. But... "So that means it just a bunch of minimum wage rent-a-cops right? And totally not paramilitary or with a group of capes. Total cakewalk. No possible problems at all. Sunshine and Rainbows." ||
<Antioch|GM> "Not a damn clue. If it turns out to be too much for you to handle, feel free to bitch out with whatever shit you manage to grab. With or without you, we're blowing this shit to kingdom come," Kusanagi says. ||
* Now talking on #WD_Vancouver
* Topic for #WD_Vancouver is: Weaver's Dice: Vancouver || City Info: http://goo.gl/Iff1t3 || Public Session Logs: http://goo.gl/3XHQMD || IC Light: ON - Showtime
* Topic for #WD_Vancouver set by Antioch|GM (Sat Aug 22 14:06:11 2015)
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<Herger|Jericho> "Oh Holy Shit, I think the first impressions are falling down and I'm starting to like this guy. Some of us have the limit of Mortality, hence why we aren't legionnaires." I laugh and stretch my arms a bit. Looking over to Sprocket, "Well what's the order Boss. They're in Range, should I give it a Fly-by?" ||
<Antioch> The craft gets close enough, the one normal accompanying the Legionnaires reveals a cache of grapnel launchers.
<Antioch> Sprocket nods, giving you the okay. ||
<Herger|Jericho> That's all I need. "Aight kids, break of fucking leg." I cackle as I launch myself into the air. Time to get a view, I've made a thousand surveillance flights. It's just a little more personal of a flight this time.||
<Antioch> You leap off the boat before flicking your thrusters on, so as not to capsize it - like every time, your vision dims - G-force induced hypoxia, greyout. You know the terms, you know the manual.
<Antioch> Your vision returns, the width of the bay stretching out before you, the sound of your thrusters alerting the transport craft to your presence.
<Antioch> The deck of the ship is loaded with container after container, crewmen walking up and down the deck, calling out as you rocket over the horizon. ||
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<Antioch> You leap off the boat before flicking your thrusters on, so as not to capsize it - like every time, your vision dims - G-force induced hypoxia, greyout. You know the terms, you know the manual.
<Antioch> Your vision returns, the width of the bay stretching out before you, the sound of your thrusters alerting the transport craft to your presence.
<Antioch> The deck of the ship is loaded with container after container, crewmen walking up and down the deck, calling out as you rocket over the horizon. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Doing passes, when the gang get's on board I'll land and give sprock a report ||
<Antioch> Whatever quality materials are loaded on this transport, the crewmen of the ship are at least utilizing it in part.
<Antioch> As you accelerate, the wind rushing through and into your suit, two electrified javelins are launched at you from the deck of the ship.
<Antioch> One misses wildly, one strikes you in the chest, shorting your armor, sending you plummeting downward, crashing into the deck, denting the metal with a clang that reverberates in your ears. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Fuck. FuckFuckFuck. Fuuuuuuuuckkk." I try to climb to my feet, taking a defensive stance ||
<Antioch> Your armor is similarly dented, having taken the majority of the punishment for you. You can feel the telltale signs of a collarbone fracture, possibly a dislocated left shoulder, and very certainly a torn left rotator cuff.
<Antioch> You painfully crawl to your feet, as Sidewinder's salvo of micromissiles arc lazily into the air, targeting all the crewmembers within range.
<Antioch> Some of them take cover behind the shipping crates, missiles punching into them with an echoing explosion, while the less fortunate take the full brunt of the detonations.
<Antioch> You can hear the unison ticking of Sprocket's activated briefcases, clockwork golems slowly assembling themselves, you imagine. ||
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<Antioch> You can hear the unison ticking of Sprocket's activated briefcases, clockwork golems slowly assembling themselves, you imagine. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Great job champ. First day on the job, shot down in about 30 fucking seconds. Fucking Champion"
<Herger|Jericho> Well, let's get back into combat mode. Where's my team? Where are the enemy? Gotta regroup. ||
<Antioch> Somewhere amidst the shipping crates, you presume, barely able to get your bearings.
<Antioch> You're not under fire at the moment, that being said - a few precious seconds leaning against a container, to regain your balance, clear your head - Sidewinder's missiles have stopped firing en masse, which is generally the signal for the ceasing of hostile activity. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Great well, gotta grab some cover. Check on the state of my gear, If I can't fly I'm just another highly trained, combat professional, with years of combat experience. Gotta get that gear together. ||
<Antioch> You rev the engines. Everything functional, left arm operating at 40%. You're flight capable, but you can't run full throttle without tearing your already battered left arm off.
<Antioch> Short of punching your way into a shipping crate and hiding within, you're sort of short, as far as cover goes. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Alright well, that's some shit. Need to get my back to something mildly solid. Wait for the group to make a move maybe? Gotta get rid of the anti-air
<Herger|Jericho> ||
<Antioch> After several moments of waiting under cover, a lo-fi recording blasts from aboard the ship, Hostage playing the Imperial March, deckhands toting top-quality gear, co-opted by his 'neural hijack drones'.
<Antioch> "Who's LEFT, SHITHEADS?"
<Antioch> "You're all getting CONSCRIPTED!" ||
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<Herger|Jericho> Oh. Well. Um, so glad I'm on his side. I think. I try to get a better view of what's happening. And locate the other members of the gang
<Herger|Jericho> ||
<Antioch> Sidewinder is plundering one of the container's he's cracked wide open, while Hostage is plundering the human resources upon the ship. Sprocket's clockwork golems are puttering away, cracking open containers and searching for better metamaterials. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Hey boss, gotta band-aid? Rookie got a booboo." I start walking towards an unclaimed container, knowing full well I won't get shit for my arm until the hospital tonight, and crack it open.
<Herger|Jericho> ||
<Antioch> Inside the container you busy open, you find a variance of goods - mostly blast plating, high-density ceramics built to withstand extreme heat and stress.
<Antioch> There are some lighter sheets of high-grade metal, a mundane titanium alloy, but your power processes it, immediately envisioning a repurposed set of armor, sleeker, lighter, more aerodynamic.
<Antioch> A heat sink design in the thrusters made of the ceramic, increasing efficiency, increasing the upper threshold of power output.
<Antioch> Defensive armor plates on the forearms, the knuckles, absorbing partial recoil from your necessarily violent strikes. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Plating sounds fantastic. Broken bones fucking blow. Let's see now, how much can I stuff under an arm? ||
<Antioch> You manage to haul two ceramic plates and five titanium sheets out of the crate. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Great, where are they hauling this shit. Follow the crowd. ||
<Antioch> Sprocket's already headed off the ship, tossing a perfectly spherical object from hand to hand, prismatically shifting color as it tumbles through the air.
<Antioch> Hostage is snatching up miscellaneous components native to the electrified javelin-launcher, his goons lowering down their own motorized lifeboat loaded to the brim with stolen tech.
<Antioch> Sidewinder's still aboard, in some container or another, presumably having a field day. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Well, fuck it. Let's toss this shit in a boat and get some more. Reminding myself to never leave home again without fucking illicit level painkillers.
<Herger|Jericho> ||
<Antioch> The next shipping container you open has 'flammable' warning signs posted all over it, so you open it with more caution.
<Antioch> Jet A-1. 70892-11-4 and kerosene. The good stuff.
<Antioch> In even rarer supply, due to Behemoth's tom-fuckery with the world's various oil fields.
<Antioch> You haven't seen fuel of this purity in /years/. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Merry Fucking Christmas! Come here beautiful." I get this shit on that boat as quickly as fucking possible
<Herger|Jericho> "Merry Fucking Christmas! Come here beautiful." I get this shit on that boat as quickly as fucking possible\\
<Herger|Jericho> ||
<Antioch> One of Sprocket's clockwork golems assists you, hooking the volatile canister to the lowering winch.
<Antioch> You assist, up until you hear the telltale thrum of subsonic flight rapidly approaching your location. ||
<Antioch> -||
<Antioch> From your three o'clock - your orientation's a little futzed due to the crash landing, but you're suspecting the south. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Heads up guys. Fast movers inbound, 3 o'clock!" If they got movers, it's safer to stay on the ground atm ||
<Antioch> It's one craft.
<Antioch> You can see the silhouette, rapidly approaching.
<Antioch> A fighter jet, at first glance, but as your vision focuses, you see the stylings - a serpentine tail, scales, a menacing 'head'.
<Antioch> Dragon's rapid-response craft.
<Antioch> Cawthorne.
<Antioch> You don't remember the Mark number. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Uh boss. . . I'm debating that whole Bitch out thing right about now. Professional opinion? We might be a bit Fucked." Legionnaires saw this shit coming. Probably in their heads laughing their asses off. ||
<Antioch> "Goodbye goodbye goodbye we are /leaving/," Sprocket babbles, already aboard the ship.
<Antioch> Sidewinder is in a panic, shucking his armor and diving into the ocean, greasy T-shirt and sweats.
<Antioch> Hostage is gone, likely descended in his lifeboat. ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Yup yup, that sounds like the right plan. Somebody fish out Sidewinder." ||
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* Now talking on #WD_Vancouver
* Topic for #WD_Vancouver is: Weaver's Dice: Vancouver || City Info: http://goo.gl/Iff1t3 || Public Session Logs: http://goo.gl/3XHQMD || IC Light: ON - Showtime
* Topic for #WD_Vancouver set by Antioch|GM (Sat Aug 22 14:06:11 2015)
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<Antioch> "Change of plans! We're blowing this ship in T-minus-thirty!" ||
<Herger|Jericho> "Uh well how about 30...29....3....1! Blast that shit asap!" I scan the water for Sidewinder. ||
<Antioch> He's underwater, out of your line of sight, the water barely rippling where he dove in, seventy-odd yards from where you're standing. ||
<Herger|Jericho> I lift off, but stay low. Skirting the waterline. Taking it slow and keeping an eye out for the craft. ||
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<Antioch> Your suit sputters, chokes - you're unable to stay too low, as the thrusters cough and you drop altitude, you can't stick too close to the water.
<Antioch> Sidewinder'll have to fend for himself. If water gets in your engines, you're a goner, this suit is atrociously heavy.
<Antioch> The Cawthorne barrages the deck of the ship with continuous bombardments of containment foam canisters, smaller drones deploying from within, hovering closer. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck. If that thing targets me, I'm fucking gone. And the one annoying fly buzzing around is sure to get noticed eventually. Let's see, gotta get on the Legion boat if I can. ||
<Antioch> The Legionnaires vessel is already floating off.
<Antioch> As you approach, you can hear Sprocket - "Dude! We gotta split up!" - gesturing frantically for you to take a different course. ||
<Herger|Jericho> . . . Fuck. That means distraction. . . Well I hope that bang is loud. Or maybe it'll chase Hostage. Or maybe I'll just die. SHIT.
<Antioch> The craft itself seems to be approaching Hostage, while the spherical drones are making a beeline towards you. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Well, let's throttle up. God I wish I could go top speed. Gotta outrun these drones. ||
<Antioch> The drones are now that you see them, connected, power visibly arcing between them, forming a sort of octahedral configuration.
<Antioch> They're flying towards you, quickly but not supersonically, occasionally breaking configuration and reforming.
<Antioch> As it stands right now, you're forced to choose from one of three options.
<Antioch> Sufficient maneuverability, maximum speed, or your arm. ||
<Herger|Jericho> Shit. ShitShitShit... Speed it is. If I stick around, something else will go wrong. I grit my teeth, and say a quite prayer as I open up to full. High altitude, where the air will be a bit easier. Maybe I can lose these shits in the clouds. Straight to shore. ||
<Antioch> You stick your right arm out, half-Superman, accelerating too quickly, blacking out from the pain and the G-forces combined, your vision going completely dark for an uncomfortable too-long moment.
<Antioch> Then your worthless left arm thruster becomes utter dead weight, cutting out, tearing off the junkyard suit completely, taking your arm with it, the pain bringing you back to the brink of consciousness, teeth grit, tearing into the inside of your cheeks.
<Antioch> You're swerving upwards, vision grey and fading, hypoxia iminent, both from G-forces and blood loss, but the drones aren't able to compensate their trajectory, succumbing to inertia before they can begin their ascent, chasing you. ||
<Herger|Jericho> All the training goes through my mind. Muscle exercises to maintain consciousness. Gotta get to land before the blood loss kills me. ||
<Antioch> Not only do you have to get to land, but you have to get medical attention as well.
<Antioch> And you sure as hell don't know where to find that, above the clouds.
<Antioch> Make that three things - hypoxia from blood loss, g-forces, and high-altitude oxygen deprivation.
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<Antioch> Your vision goes greyer and greyer, control lost, spiraling through the cloudtops, frost forming on your armor and jets, no longer able to move your body and armor to angle it in a fashion that grants you upwards thrust.
<Antioch> The drones rush towards you as you plummet down, down, down into English Bay, blood pouring out of your arm, vision narrowing into pinholes, fading to black...
<Antioch> ||||