Biker Gangs, seedy motels and other reasons why I hate road trips

A Rotordrone. Freddie's are now less prone to exploding

Despite the Ares Johnson's ominous sendoff, things have been pretty quirt around here. About the biggest activity for a while was Freddie, Benny and Dave (a mechanic they know) doing some modifications to add more armor to his Rotordrones so they wouldn't explode as soon as somebody looked at them funny. Along the way we gained a Garage Couch (you know the type; covered in a drop sheet and then cluttered up with parts) which I am earnestly shocked we didn't have before.

And then things got awkward when Aphonso called David to ask Freddie for a favour. A friend of his, a Dwarf Rigger called Offroad, had apparently gotten into some trouble during a smuggling run and desperately needed to be bailed out. After a lot of me not talking to Alphonso stuff (including when I was finally actually speaking to him my deliberately not speaking to him; can't he just get the picture already?) we agreed to go help him out as a favour to Dave and, of course, the possible benefits down the road.

We know what you want. We know what you need. We know where you live.

With Wraith gone, something strange has happened. I seem to have become leader of the team somehow. It's odd, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. On the upside, it does appear that everyone recognizes how just plain awesome I am and is willing to listen to me and let me call the shots. On the downside, there's a lot of responsibility and crap that comes with it, which is not helpful when really all I want to do is just run off to do my own thing.

The last little job we had pretty much covered the pros and cons of it, while also leaving me with a bad taste in my mouth, a sort of 'I don't like the way this is going' thing.

It started off with me out at the Skeleton having a good time and, amazingly enough, being recognized for who I am and what I do. An Elf Runner called Blidside approached me in the club, saying he remembered me from Penubra when everything went bad with the Azzie Johnson. I played innocent, saying that I was just there for a good time and had nothing to do with what went on and Jaguar Guards storming the place and all that crap in the spirit of covering my ass, and he seemed to buy that.

Crimson Dawn (part 5)

The boardroom window exploded into a million shards, sending those inside ducking for cover. A moment later, a hail of gunfire poured in from a series of drones, shredding any unfortunate enough to be in their way. Cries of alarm went out form those inside, but were not matched by alerts from the building’s own systems; instead, the ARO displays remained focused on yearly profit graphs as if nothing was happening, while the soothing lighting was entirely at odds with the violence unfolding.

A single figure leaped in through the shattered window, moving with a blinding speed faster than any human being could even hope to follow, No sooner were they down then they were in motion, a black and red blur that darted across the room, weapons at the ready and primed to unleash hell upon anyone foolish enough to get in their way.

And somebody did; a single man, his eyes crackling with unearthly power as he stood, sun-like disks of energy building around his hands as he prepared to unleash the arcane mysteries he commanded upon the target. But already, the intruder was wise to him, spinning around and sending a single blade flying towards him. It hit the mage in the throat, the man issuing a single, sudden gurgle before reeling back, the lights in his eyes and hands flickering and burning out like a dying sun.

Home is where the weapons locker is

I've mentioned the Firehouse enough times; I think it's time I actually wrote a bit about it.

Before I met the team, I lived in my own little apartment in Seattle. It wasn't the best place, yeah, but it was good enough and had reliable services and was comfortable, and that was enough to work. My main concern was slipping in and out while carrying my weapons and other runner gear, something that residents of nice, middle-class neighborhoods aren't supposed to do. After all, you can only do so much to conceal an Ares Alpha or a Katana.

Wraith had floated the idea of getting together and setting up a team base. It had a few immediately obvious advantages; we would all know where we were and be able to grab each other for a run or in emergencies; we would have a central storage of weapons and gear that we could all access; we could equip it with whatever amenities and facilities we needed and, if the worst came to the worst, if somebody was after one of us, then they’d need to take on the rest of us as well.

How to make things worse for yourself

One thing about Captain Cancer is that he has an amazing inability to quit while he's ahead. He can get into a good place with his manipulation and disguise spells, but then he’ll manage to screw it up and get in way over his head. It eventually reaches a point where he's actively making it worse for himself and then he'll just keep digging himself in deeper while trying to fix it.

(and remember, this is the guy who screwed up his own magic because his nicotine addiction required him to get new lungs)

When this is your wake-up call, things have gone very wrong

The last run we were on is a good example of that, especially given that half of it wasn't even a run. Seem Captain Cancer had taken in Twitch, who had in turn taken to barricading himself inside CC's apartment and waving his shotgun at anyone who tried to enter the place, its owner included. The good (?) Captain had decided to get to the bottom of what had happened, if only to try to get him out of his house and not having to wake up every morning to a shotgun being waved in his face.