SDMB Shadowrun campaign Chapter 3 - Prey To The Dark: Players only!

The Game Room
341

As the bats fly off Geothe shouts after them.

“Fly away you cowards! Fly back to your masters. Let them know they’re next!”

He then walks up to Rescigno.

"We take the fight to them. The sooner the better. They’ve been underestimating us, but they won’t be making that mistake anymore. We need to strike before they can recover. Because cults won’t stop until they achieve their goal or are destroyed.

"And take good care of the cyborg. This fight might have gone much different if not for his sacrifice. I don’t think the vamp and his bats were meant to be late to the party. His goal was no doubt to have a grand sweeping entrance while we were struggling against the dragon so he could offer us a Hobson’s choice. I think he was kind of surprised to find his ally defeated and himself left with little to bargain with.

"Plus, we’re going to need the cyborg if we’re going to take these bastards down.

“See you at the corp.”

Goethe gets on his bike and drives off into the night. While driving he calls McManus.

“Hey, it’s Goethe. Were you ever able to find out anything about that talisman? By the way, just a personal request. Next job you set me up with, can we make sure it isn’t for a company that’s a front for a coterie of vampires with delusions of achieving cyber-grandeur and their brainwashed cultists and associates, at least one of whom was a dragon we just defeated?”

342

Nail replies to Goethe from inside the sedan. “Yeah, like I said, a helluva way to negotiate.” He glances over to check on 4509. Still conked out. “Goethe, you say sacrifice like he might actually have a bit of humanity in him after all.”

After Goethe replies to Nail’s comment, everyone drives off. In the car, Nail can’t help but go over the events of the battle. Good thing my gut was right about Sinthia. Still, why was her refusal of them so pained? Maybe she’s still a few bats short of a belfry herself. Aw, who understands mages?.

Once the adrenaline rush wears off, Nail promptly falls asleep, as sprawled out as he can comfortably be.

343

"Certainly it could have been merely to save his own skin since he probably had a better chance to survive the grenade than being crushed by the dragon, but in the end, his actions were a great part of why we made short work of this fight, so the specific motives really don’t matter.

“Besides, he’s a hell of lot more human than these rejected extras from a Lugosi film are.”

344

Sinthia collapses to the ground. Her face is to the ground and she is not moving.

If approached, her allies will find that she is alive, appears to be conscious, but does not respond to any attempt to communicate with her. She will need to be carried for the time being, at least until she can focus and master her current state of mind.

345

The game will be updated later this evening. I sincerely apologize for the delays! Work is kicking my ass (not literally, but close) but I have the evening off today. Expect an update in approximately 4-5 hours.

346

Synthcorp is nothing like what it was before, when Goethe first walked in with the finest crew anyone could ask for. What a waste. Two dead. One still alive, but fading into memory. Only he and Nail remain.

Where businessmen, scientists, engineers, and support staff once roamed like free-gazing cattle, now they are overseen by men with rifles around every corner. Sure, it’s safer this way. But it 'aint exactly comforting. Goethe can’t rest. He’s leaning in the corner with the widest angle of view in the Synthcorp board room. Seven UO soldiers with guns are spread around the expansive room, covering every window and entrance. Goethe doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust anyone in the room, except maybe Nail. Maybe.

4509 stands wordlessly, close enough to Rescigno to make the Director deeply uncomfortable. The cyborg has been brought back online with the help of Synthcorp engineers, but there’s something off about him. Even for a psychopath, he seems cold and calculating.

Nightshade has one suspicious eye on the cyborg, her hands on her hips. Goethe knows that stance. Apparently, she can feel the tension, too. She’s ready to fight.

Sinthia is useless. She’s sitting on the floor in the corner opposite Goethe. She barely speaks anymore. Goethe’s dumbstruck by her meltdown. Who cares what some stupid spirit thinks about you? The spirit certainly doesn’t give a shit what you think about him, right? Where was this damned Raven when the going was tough? Nowhere.

Nobody’s gonna look out for you, kid. That includes your god. Suck it up. People are counting on you. But instead of saying the words, Goethe stays silent. No use trying to convince crazy people. Hard lesson taught by none other than Seneth himself.

“We’re at a crossroads, ladies and gentlemen,” Rescigno says, interrupting Goethe’s thoughts. “I brought you all here to share some important news, and to get your thoughts for how to proceed. A team of scientists and engineers led by Butch has managed to build a device that can overload the receiver at the other end of the tracking device you recovered. It’s not exactly elegant, but it’ll get the job done. When we’re ready, Butch will activate the device, sending a signal that will cause the receiver to overload. The receiver should self destruct. It won’t be a particularly large explosion, but it ought to be enough to pinpoint its location using aerial spy drones. You lot will be in a UO copter, ready to fly in and infiltrate wherever this receiver is. It has to be timed perfectly, so the man behind The Dark cult doesn’t have a chance to escape. I know it’s vague, but it’s the best idea I’ve got. Any questions?”

347

Nail can’t relax either in the tense lobby. And he is very good at relaxing. He tries at first, but everywhere he looks he sees his motley crew, half of which looks like it’s about to light the place up and the other half not in their right mind. He smokes even more than usual, occasionally shadow-boxing frustratedly.

After Rescigno gives his speech, Nail replies sarcastically, “Wouldn’t a crossroad imply there being more than one option?”

348

"How exactly do we stop the big bad evil guy from getting away before we get there? We’re going to need a good amount of luck on our side to be close enough to the location. Do we have even the remotest idea of where these guys are located?

"The good news is, I don’t think they’re really expecting us to infiltrate them, not that we really have any other choice. They’re a cult which means until we cut off the head, it doesn’t matter how many of them we take out. They’ll just keep recruiting more and this will never end.

“At least we can approach this largely with a scorched Earth strategy. Vamps and ghouls are bastardizations of nature and should be destroyed out of principal, doing the world a favor with the former, and doing the target a favor with the latter. We’ve also seen that the non-infected cultists really aren’t much for surrendering, preferring to die for the cause, no matter how useless the sacrifice is.”

“Yeah, we could keep hiding like rats. But I’m ready to take these bastards out. The time for hiding is over, even if I wasn’t sick of it by now.”

349

“Put me and my rifle in the bird. Nothing will be escaping.”

350

“Hard to say that for sure until we see the actual layout,” Nightshade responds to the cyborg. “But it sounds like a good plan ‘A’. I don’t really like going in with this little intel, but it looks like that’s the best we can hope for under the circumstances.”

She glances at Sinthia’s pathetic form in the corner. “I have a huge concern, though, with going in without mage support against an enemy like this. She’s obviously not going to be helpful in her current condition. Do we have any alternative mystic assets?”

351

Nail’s first thought flashes through his head, Lighten up, Goethe.

He then replies, standing up and raising his hands slightly, “Hey, I’m not disagreeing.” He then takes a deep breath, leans over, and lights a cig. “Alright,” he says, taking a puff. He then twirls the cig up in the air and catches it again in his mouth. “Let’s take the fight to them.”

He walks over to his quarters. “I’ll be packing my bags,” he says, before wherever he loses sight of the crew. He doesn’t have any bags to pack, but it’s a good excuse as any to get away from the tension and inevitable jibber-jabber of planning. Who needs planning?

352

Sinthia slightly raises her head, not making eye contact with anyone, but still at least looking…you know, alive.

“I can fight. No Spirits, even Water, though.”

She looks back down at her knees.

353

*You’ve had a pretty good life, far as any decent ork’s concerned. *Goethe knows he’s not a decent ork, though. The fighting and partying and sex and drugs and noisy music so enjoyed by his people never really had much appeal to Goethe. Goddamned orks just love running the shadows, don’t they. *So did you, but not for the same reasons. You did it to make something of yourself. Prove yourself.

See where it got you?*

Goethe can’t help but think of himself in the past-tense. It doesn’t exactly take a lot of introspection to figure out why, either. Runners have an expiration date, and he’s well past his. He can feel fate creeping up on him. He’s dodged so many bullets he can’t even count 'em. It’s got to be a record. Luck won’t last forever, though.

“Look sharp,” Rescigno says via comlink. Easy for him to say. The Executive Director of Operations is safely tucked away in a command bunker. He’s gonna get the televised version of the evil voodoo monster. “Butch is about to paint you a picture. Weapons hot, kids. This is it.”

*Yeah, yeah. We get it. *

Goethe glances up at Nail. Nail’s head is somewhere else. Probably thinkin’ of that lady of his. Nail can feel it too, though. It’s written all over him. Something’s different about this run. It’s not just another paycheck, or revenge, or even just simple survival. Something is seriously fucked up with the world, and it’s up to them to fix it. This must be what old-world soldiers felt like; fighting for a cause, righting wrongs, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility and duty. All bullshit, of course, but the feeling is real enough.

While the others are inspecting their weapons and equipment, 4509 sits calmly. He’s the only one who doesn’t really care what happens next. Goethe’s good at reading people, but he just can’t figure out what 4509’s about. What does he want? Why is he even here?

Goethe can’t help but notice that Nightshade always puts herself in a position where she would have tactical superiority over the cyborg in a fight. She might not even consciously realize she’s doing it. She knows just what the most dangerous thing around is, though. And it ain’t vampires. Maybe it used to be Sinthia, but not anymore. Crazy witch in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Might as well have left her behind, for all the good she’ll do.

The rotors of Universal Omnitech’s extremely advanced helicopter spin with an eerie buzz, like an eternally cresting wave. Everything’s ready. A couple of combat drones are circling the copter, ready to intervene if there’s any trouble. Goethe looks down at the Seattle skyline, and marvels at the view despite himself. *It almost looks like a nice place to be, from here. *What a difference perspective makes.

“Two minutes,” Rescigno says via comlink. “If anyone has any last words, now’s the time.”

354

4509 remains silent throughout the duration of the trip, his rifle resting upright on his knee, barrel leaned against his shoulder. He’s been blown halfway to hell and bolted back together but you wouldn’t know it from looking at him. He seems unchanged by the experience.

When Rescigno’s voice comes over the commlink he lowers his weapon and swivels it out the helicopter’s open side and flips up its scope’s cap.

355

Last Words. The phrase makes Goethe shudder a bit in spite of himself. Sure Rescigno no doubt meant that phrase in the “before the mission gets going and all Hell breaks loose so finalize your strategies now” sort of way, but seeing as how the team’s about to try a blind infiltration of an unknown nerve center of a Doomsday cult of unknown strength and size, the phrase carries a slightly darker air with it.

Not that it really matters. No one’s going to likely say much anyway. There’s not much use to devising strategy when your intel is sorely lacking. And it’s not as if anyone’s going to be giving any inspirational speeches tonight. Even if it was Goethe’s style, it’s not as if anyone’s going to be all that receptive to it. A mage with a crisis of identity and faith? A cyborg who thinks saying “Good day.” is being talkative and views human interaction as a chore? Certainly not them. Nail isn’t in his typical spirits either, not even getting in some last-minute snarky digs at the world in general or Geothe in particular. Nightshade might be up for it if anyone would be. After all, she’s like a more personable and less cynical version of himself. But really, what inspirational things is anyone going to say here and who’s going to even listen? It’s quite possible that this team is about to execute a mission of worldwide significance, stopping a cult determined to take over the world and mold it in its own image. It’s also equally possible that the team is about to enter an undertaking of beating up a bunch of bratty emo adolescents who would eventually self-destruct anyway as egos conflicted and everyone decided it was easier to take his ball and go home. Doesn’t really matter. Succeed or fail, it’s unlikely anyone outside of this little circle of hunted who became the hunters will even give two shits in the end. The universe will carry on regardless.

So last words? There’s really not much to say. But Goethe, never being one to shutup, figure’s he’ll say something anyway. If for nothing else than to break the tension.

“I just want to say you all better make it out of this alive so you can pay me back for all the liquor you drank. That goes for you as well, Rescigno.”

356

Goethe’s right. Nail’s head is in another place. But he’s not only thinking about his wife. He misses her more than life itself, but he is confident she is safe. He knows all he has to do is survive this and he can see her again. Once this is all over. But when’s that going to be? What in the world is the crew getting into? Even for somebody as skilled at going with the flow at Nail, his mind cannot resist letting in a sense of unease. He stares intently at the skyline thinking, Here we go again…

But his attention is soon taken away by the wind rustling against his gun. Horrible mental images flash back into his mind, the mental pathways speedened by years of unwilling practice. It’s been years since he came home to find his mother brutally murdered. It’s been years since that day he came home to see his father shooting a strange gunman, the last customer of a house turned into a wrecked carnival of bodies and debris. It’s been years but he can still remember every curl of smoke from his father’s pistol, and the smell of the gunpowder and blood.

He didn’t see his father much after that day. For his protection, his father said, Nail was shipped off to various boarding schools. On days where most boys would either go home or have visiting relatives, Nail would only get the occasional care package. Not that he really wanted to see his father. He blamed his father entirely for his mother’s death. His father had lied to everyone, not telling anyone about his running career. It was his dirty secret life, his fault his mom had been targeted. He never once tried to deny it.

Which is what made it even more shocking on the day of his 21st birthday, the dorm receptionist said he had a visitor in his room. It was his father. Silently holding a box, all he said was, “It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this.” As soon as he took the package, his father left. Thanks old man, he thought sarcastically, and threw it in a corner of his closet. He didn’t even open it for years, but he had a sixth sense he knew what it was. He always knew.

His eyes turn to the gun at his side, focusing back onto the present day. Well I’m not happy, he thinks. You knew the rules. You would only be used in times of dire need, when it was my life or theirs. And now look, you’re getting your rocks off all over the place. Zombies, ghouls, and men… men… That was the second rule. You were not allowed to kill anyone. Now innocent blood is on our hands. Can you wash that off? Of course not, you’re just a gun…

And some gun at that, too! he continues thinking. If you’re going to see action all the time, the least you can do is be effective. You can’t knock a gun out of a goon’s hand, or knock an elemental out in one hit, or even take down a rampaging dragon! He chuckles quietly despite himself. Although, I guess that last one is asking a lot…

Unsurprisingly, this is not the first time Nail has had a monologue like this with his weapon. Sometimes it even seems like the gun talks back. I only serve to protect you… Nail thinks he hears it say. The voice always sounds similar to his father, like he can feel his father there with him. He hates this feeling almost as much as he hates using the gun itself.

That’s a lie! he snaps back. What have you protected? You couldn’t protect mother back then, and you can barely protect me now. Protection? It was probably you that got father into all this mess in the first place. You were always father’s gun, the gun that he used on countless runs, the gun that earned him his fame, the very fame that ruined the happy life we all had!

Mentally hyper-ventilating, Nail manages to calm down. Although, that’s not really fair. You’re just a tool, an inanimate object. Father’s the real asshole here…wherever he is. He stares out the window a few seconds more.

The bottom line is, if I didn’t need to make sure I stayed alive for my wife’s sake, I’d rather shoot myself and die than use you even a single time.

What seemed like a lengthy dialogue in Nail’s mind had only taken about a minute in real time. Working through his feelings some actually brightens Nail’s mood slightly, and it’s not long before Goethe replies to Rescigno’s final warning. Nail replies in turn,

“And you better make it out of this alive so I can borrow more booze from you. You know I’m good for it.”

357

Let’s burn the world down if we have to, thinks Sinthia. *There is nothing here left for anyone; if Raven abandons us(or betrays us), then perhaps there is no point in any of us living. *

Outloud, she merely said, “Seneth would really like this next bit.”

This is not a comforting thing to hear.

358

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable silence as Goethe and Nail share a brief, awkward glance. Goethe looks around at the misfits gathered in the helicopter; Nail, Sinthia, Nightshade, 4509, and Goethe himself. All of them damaged goods. They ought to be unreliable, but somehow it fell on this crew to hunt down a cult god and Goethe didn’t doubt in the least that they’d pull it off.

Rescigno is over the comlink again. Damn, that man speaks a lot. “Be ready,” the UO Director says. “The Dark cult has proven to be tech savvy, and you can bet they won’t like us sabotaging their toys. Butch is overloading the signal receiver now.”

Goethe looks out the side of the copter, which overlooks Seattle to the south. What’s he looking for, exactly? An explosion? The UO eggheads are surely monitoring for a certain type of particles or signal with their scanners, but would it be something Goethe could actually see?

“Alright, it’s done,” Rescigno says. Well, guess that answers that question. “Oh…you’re not gonna’ like this.”

“What is it?” Nail says.

“The signal came from Oldtown,” Resicgno answers. “Rot Iron Punks territory.”

Nightshade raises an eyebrow. “Goethe?”

The Ork Shadowrunner is a bit offended. “What? You think I have any cred with RIP? We Orks don’t all know each other,” he says.

Nail shrugs. “Well, guess we have to call the whole thing off,” he mutters sarcastically. “A stupid Ork gang with a very subtle acronym is standing between us and the nightmare vampire demon thingy.”

“Just be careful,” Rescigno says. “We’ll have to drop you off outside Oldtown. RIP’s a vulgar, savage clan, but they have enough weapons to make flying through their turf very dangerous. You’ll have to approach on foot. I’m uploading coordinates to your comlinks now.”

“Just one question before we go make nice with the Orks,” Nail says. “Won’t the badguys have enough time to split before we reach them, this way?”

“Maybe. We’ve got surveillance drones watching the building though. If anyone leaves, we can track them while you give pursuit.”

“Oh, alright then. Sounds foolproof,” Nail says with dripping sarcasm.

“Got a better idea?” Rescigno says. “We only have one chance at this. You fly over Rot Iron Punk territory in that copter, and you’re likely to be shot down. If you want to give it a try anyway, be my guest.”

Rescigno has offered two different approach options. One is to land just outside RIP turf and attempt to negotiate or fight a path toward The Dark cult headquarters. The other is to ignore the danger posed by RIP weapons, and simply fly directly to the target and hope for the best. Rescigno will respect any group consensus for how to proceed.

359

“We land, attempt to negotiate…and then fight to the HQ(if we have to),” Sinithia says, barely looking up from her knees, which are now curled up to her chin.

Her eyes are closed while she says this.

360

"Fight to the HQ? Right. Us vs. an entire gang on their own turf. That’s our very last option.

"Flying in is right out. We might make it, but then we might get shot down. And even assuming we manage to survive the bailout, we’re going to have gang-bangers on our asses from all angles before we even hit the ground.

“Our best bet, and I use that term only because it sucks less than any other, is to try to actually convince them we don’t give two shits about their turf and just want to accomplish our goal and get out. Course, it’s going to cost us big time. Granted, if we can somehow convince them that our goal will benefit them, we might be able to catch a price break. After all, taking down this cult benefits them in two ways: it means that another group isn’t taking over their turf, and it means that they don’t have to worry about being turned into wendigos.”

Seeing some puzzled looks from his companions, Goethe continues:

"Yeah, wendigos. It’s what happens when the vampiric virus gets put into an Ork. I’ve never encountered one myself, which is obvious since I’m standing in front of you. Because few who ever meet one will live to tell about it. Vamps are child’s play by comparison. If you’re lucky, the wendigo will just kill you. If you’re not, he’ll turn you into his thrall, cause you to willingly engage in cannibalism, and then kill you. And while not all vampires are considered awakened, all wendigos are. Nasty creatures.

"Now, any Ork worth his blood, and with any sanity, won’t willingly become one of those things. So if the RIP have any sense, they’ll realize that it’s to their own benefit not to interfere with us since if this cult gets too desperate, they might start turning the gang. Of course, that’s a huge ‘if’. It’s possible the cult has hired them. It’s possible they don’t care. It’s possible they’re just violent and stupid.

“But regardless, we don’t have much choice. Let’s just hope they’re somewhat reasonable, or at least willing to listen to logic, and if we have too, we shoot our way through, slowly, strategically, and methodically, though we might be better off just leaving because while we fail the mission regardless, at least we get out alive. Because they’re the ones fighting on familiar turf with superior numbers. We win on equipment and talent, but that only gets you so far.”