Official Tensided Cyperpunk RPG Campaign

[Alyrium Denryle]

Dr.Lennox heaved a sigh of relief as the train doors closed and the train started moving, he was exhausted. He looked around, looking for a place to sit or stand, and chose a spot next to a young man with sandy hair and a trenchcoat.

"Good evening"

[Utsanomiko]

Stavis remains reclining in his seat, hands folded behind his neck, his eyes peering barely over his shades, switching between looking out the windoes and staring off into space. He tilted his head slightly as his eyes slowly turned to meet the old guy in the bright shirt, then glanced over several of the subway windows. He smirked, scrunching his shades up over his eyes.

"Cops're pretty busy tonight, eh? he remarked, followed by a quick chuckle. "Yeah, they just crashed a bar I was at not more than five minutes ago. Such a pain, really."

[Alyrium Denryle]

((He is 28 ))

Dr. Lennox chuckles...

" They just crashed through the door of the boiler room I was living in. I swear, if I couldnt feel their minds, I could swear they' re not human" He heaved a sigh, and tried to relax. His heart was still in his throat. and he tried to calm down a little. He knew he just let his telepathy slip, but he didnt really care at this point. He could always wipe the guys mind if he had to.

"Now I have to find a new safehouse... fucking locals, rating me out... FUnny thing is, I used to help those same people deal with cronc depression... ingrates"

[Utsanomiko]

((You kiddin'? 28 is old! ))

Stavis, still listening to the bright-shirt guy, just shrugs. "I'm just looking for a new place to go to, and possibly somewhere to crash for the night. Just can't trust some of these putzes to not bring the snoids to where you are, I guess."

[Marcao]

He watched as the disk started to fizzle, his eyes glancing down at the watch upon his right wrist. A second later, he shook his head. Right on time, his attention sliding to the disk for the duration of the thirty second display. He waited another two minutes before approaching the disk, picking the scared disk and examining it for a moment before he stood and dropped it in the garbage can in the kitchen. The phone rang and it was promptly answered, Andy’s instructions being short and to the point. The call lasted less than sixty seconds, before it was over and he found himself with a bit of time before the next step in the job he had accepted. He walked to his laptop and sat down, waiting for it to boot up before he connected to the internet and made sure that the transfer of funds had indeed taken place. It did not take him long to be greeted with the fact that he did have $2,500 to play with. He immediately, transferred the money from the first account into a secondary one. A small smile on his lips as he turned off the laptop and helped himself to the last of his beer.

He reached for his small notepad, writing down the address that he had been asked to visit in two hours. He knew the general area where the address was located, but he was hesitant to use his vehicle. He did not wish for a breakdown to occur and force him to leave it behind. He knew people around his neighborhood and his car was known. After he had flat lined the first few would be car jackers, it was known that trying to steal or deface the 1965 mustang was not a good idea. If he drove it somewhere else however, the chances were that his classic ride would attract a great deal of attention. It was true that his car had seen better days, but that did not change the fact that it was his car. Besides, if things went well he would now be able to afford a few life extending changes to his automobile. He decided that he would take public transportation to the location. It simplified matters, and he did not need to carry his heavy equipment on this particular meeting. He wanted to meet the people he was supposed to work with, as well as try and see if they could get a better picture of the target area. The disk had been sketchy on exact details. At the moment, his primary concern was to find out just how many of the so called elite guards had defected and were now believed to be guarding the primary target. A few implied there were less than ten, but he wanted to be sure nonetheless.

Other than the exact number of guards, the only concern he still had was the target area itself. He did not like the idea of charging a fortified position blindly. If at all possible, he would prefer to do at least some scouting of the area and see what points of attack were vulnerable. He shrugged, reminding himself that he was committed now. He had accepted Andy’s money and that meant that his life as well as his reputation was now on the line. Failure was no longer and option, and as long as Andy was straight with him, he would get his best. He spent fifteen minutes considering his choice as well as if any armament changes needed to be made before the operation commenced. The truth was that while he would like to make a quick purchase here and there, he had more or less all the tools that he needed for this operation. He doubted a sniper rifle would be of much use in this situation. Besides, his car really needed to be showered with some sort of affection. He was tired of fearing a breakdown every single moment he turned the ignition.

By the time twenty minutes had elapsed from Andy’s call he was aware of what he should do at the moment. He stood from the couch, walking into his bathroom and brushing his teeth before he decided to leave towards the location. He kept his revolver and the two speed loaders, the two grenades and his knife. It was enough firepower to keep him safe in the streets without making him look like an arsenal. He fastened his leather jacket a bit, glancing down at his black leather boots before walking out of his apartment and locking the door behind him. A few moments later, he walked out of his apartment building and headed for the nearest train station. Once there, he slid down underground, using his commuter card to gain access to the train area. Once there, he slipped into the train car that opened before him. His head turned from left to right as he looked the passengers over. His zoom feature utilized to its maximum effect on anyone that looked armed or any particularly attractive women. He did not sit, preferring to stand and holding on with his left hand as the car picked up speed. His right hand fell at his side, his eyes keenly aware of his surroundings. Other than the two men talking, nothing seemed amiss. Still, their conversation could prove of interest and he casually attempted to listen to their conversation. His augmented hearing proved useful time after time. Besides, they were not even trying to be subtle. If they did not care if others heard, why should he care if he did? This train should take him all the way to the general area where he was supposed to be. After that, he would have to walk.

[Gerard_Paloma]

As his shots went wide, Dirk clenched his teeth. Maybe it was his surprise at the doorman taking his target's head off, maybe it was just lady luck's way of pissing him off; Dirk didn't know. Regardless, these cops were a thorn in his side.

Immediately after his last round was spent, Dirk dropped to a sitting position, his back to the oaken bar, and cracked open the cylinder. A smile crept back onto his face as he slammed a speed loader into the Ruger.

I got 6 more bullets now, punk. Which means 6 more chances to die. He liked the odds.

[CorSec]

Blaine blinked in surprise. He looked down at his feet then back out the the bar, specifically where a dead cop lay. Toto, I've a feeling he's not in Kansas anymore.

He could see Dirk taking cover to reload out of the periphery. Blaine wasn't sure who to shoot next. Should I finish off the wounded guy? Shoot the one firing like he was a garden hose - or that one by the door? I mean, is there some sort of code or protocol for this?

He cycled the action on the shotgun and chanced a quick shot on the cop by the door. We better get out of this soon or there might not be any getting out of this.

[Alyrium Denryle]

((You kiddin'? 28 is old! ))

Stavis, still listening to the bright-shirt guy, just shrugs. "I'm just looking for a new place to go to, and possibly somewhere to crash for the night. Just can't trust some of these putzes to not bring the snoids to where you are, I guess."

"Snoid... now there is a term I have never heard before... Know of any good spots to lay low for a while? At this point I really dont care if I have to gently convince someone to let me stay with them... "

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Mikal: As Mikal turns toward the other bar, his cellphone rings. The Caller ID identifies the caller as "Stacey Alvarez".

Stavis Reinheld, Dr. Lennox, and Ernesto Vega: At the next stop, four teenagers wearing flashy gang paraphanelia board the train, one looks younger and more nervous than the others. They all have a seat apart from the other passengers. With his enhanced hearing, Ernesto hears the oldest and calmest one say "Go on bro', you gots to do this if you wanna be one of us." He passes something to the nervous boy as he talks.

Alertness rolls: Medium difficulty
Difficulty: 18
Stavis' AT: 7
Lennox AT: 10
d10 roll (Stavis): 9 + 7 = 16
MoS: -2
d10 roll (Lennox): 11 + 10 = 21
MoS: 3

Stavis doesn't notice these new passengers or their strange behavior, but Benjamin does, and his attention to it makes Stavis notice too.

((I didn't roll a check for Ernesto because he could have rolled a 1 and still succeeded))

Dirk Harrison and Blaine Richards
As Dirk takes cover to reload and from the hail of bullets, Blaine snaps a shot at the newest entrant to the club.

Snapshot: Blaine vs. cop
Difficulty: 20
Range: 8
AT: 5
Modifiers: +1 for area, -3 for aim
Adjusted AT: 3
d10 roll: 5 + 3 = 8
MoS: -12

The fleschettes impact harmlessly (to the cop, not the property value of the club) into the doorway.

Full auto: Cop vs. Blaine
Difficulty: 20
Range: 6
AT: 12
Modifiers: +2 for full auto, -2 for recoil
Adjusted AT: 12
d10 roll: 9 + 12 = 21
MoS: 1
General location: 8 (head)
Specific location: 4 (right temple)
Damage: None (3 - 10 Resistance)

Some of the rounds imbed themselves into the bar, nearly penetrating. Dirk knows that had they gone a few inches farther, they would have planted themselves right in his temple. The cop swears as empty clicking sounds pour from his weapon instead of bullets.

[Utsanomiko]

Stavis' responce to bright shirt-guy trails off as he notices who's got the man's attention.

"Not really..." His speech grows a bit quieter and slower as he tries to pay attention to what these punks do next. "...But I think know of a couple of jackanapes lining themselves up for the picking. Fresh meat's so fun."

Stavis continues to peer at them through his shades, looking in particular for any jewelry or weapons.

[Marcao]

When the four teenagers wearing obvious gang colors entered his particular train car, they warranted and received a bit of his attention. He was well aware of the fact that guns did not require any experience before being able to put someone six feet under. The fact that the youngest of the group looked more nervous than the others was noted and appreciated. His mind already considering the possibility that this could be a gang initiation or something along those lines. He did not pay too much attention to the group as they all moved to have a seat apart from other passengers. Nonetheless, he made sure to utilize his augmented hearing to the best of his ability as the teenagers started to talk amongst themselves.

He was not terribly surprised about what he heard, and as the calmest voice continued his body twisted slightly as he looked at a couple opposite the gangers. In truth, he was using his peripheral vision to keep an eye on them as well as trying to zoom in and identify what was passed from one member to another. It was more than likely a weapon of some kind and he wanted to know what it was. A knife could be dealt with passively, but a firearm had to be treated as a potentially lethal weapon. If that was the case, then he would certainly prepare for the possibility of a shoot out. The fact that these were teenagers was not a concern for him. If any of them reached for weapons, they had decided to play with the big boys and that meant that he would neatly dispose of them if the need arose.

As he waited to see if he could identify what was passed, he began to make a basic plan of attack. If the gangers were armed, then the calmest voice had to go first. Cover would be light, but if he moved four and a half feet to his side, he could use a couple of passengers as a bullet sponges. The idea of using a passenger on the train as cover, did not bother him in the least. If anything, it was one of the few uses someone that he had for obese passengers in trains. If worse came to worse, they were more likely to catch a bullet than he was. His right hand moved, his body turning slightly as he undid a button on his leather jacket. That would make it easier for him in case he had to draw his raging bull. His body returned to its normal position, his eyes not looking directly at the gangers but keeping tabs on them peripherally. The conversation that he had been trying to listen in on, momentarily forgotten.

[Alyrium Denryle]

Stavis' responce to bright shirt-guy trails off as he notices who's got the man's attention.

"Not really..." His speech grows a bit quieter and slower as he tries to pay attention to what these punks do next. "...But I think know of a couple of jackanapes lining themselves up for the picking. Fresh meat's so fun."

Stavis continues to peer at them through his shades, looking in particular for any jewelry or weapons.

"One second... this doesnt look good. this looks like a gang initiation, let me scan them before you do anything rash."

Dr. Lennox opens up his mind to the thought voices in the train, and focuses in on the apparant "new kid" The boys surface thoughts projected for all the world to hear should make everything clear.

As he was speaking, his gun was in his hand... And he primed his mental weaponry...

[Hotfoot]

Stacey Alvarez? Interesting...he did not know the name, but he was reasonably sure it was not anyone he had...had recently. Idly, he let the phone ring one more time as he pondered if that was in fact her real name, or just an alias. Finally, he answers the ringing cell phone in nearly flawless english. "This is Mikal speaking, how may I help you?" If she was a client, ideally she would get right to the point of the matter. If not, well, it would depend. In the meantime, he continued walking down the street towards the Electric Nipple, keeping an eye out for any punks who might try and get a few wrong ideas.

• X-Light Armor
• USP Tactical .45 (Concealed, Loaded, Two Reloads)
• Silencer (Concealed, not attached)
• Combat Knife (Concealed)
• Smoke Pellets (Concealed)
• Stripwire Binders (x2, In Pocket)
• Mirrorshades
• Cell Phone (in use)
• Various personal effects

[CorSec]

What the hell was I thinking? Blaine chastised. I'd probably do better throwing the damn thing at him... Hey, now that's a ... No. Bad idea.

He doesn't really want to relinquish control of the shotgun but he realizes that he can't rely on being lucky - especially with his kind of luck. He sets the shotgun on shelf under the bar and draws his hand gun. He looks over at Dirk readying himself for his next shot.

"I think we need to get out of here, and soon. I mean, no pressure or anything."

Blaine was more than pretty sure that Dirk had seen his share of skirmishes, with the law and otherwise, and most likely was aware that the law always had back up somewhere. Even though he figured Dirk was aware, it certainly couldn't hurt to remind him.

Blaine assumed a traditional Weaver stance and took careful aim at the cop by the door.

Questions: How far away is the closest door? Which door is closest (front - which is the one currently blocked - or other)? Did the cop at the door flinch or duck in or out of the doorway? (If he did, then consider me waiting for him to reappear.)

((If putting away one weapon and then drawing and aiming another takes too long for one round, then I'll break this into smaller bite-size movements.))

[Gerard_Paloma]

Dirk shoots a glare at the doorman. "I'm working on it," he says through clenched teeth.

Dirk faces the cops again, and this time takes aim at the new arrival. Not bothering to carefully line up the shot, he squeezes the trigger once the Ruger is pointed in the cop's general direction.

((This assumes that the late-arriving cop is in point-blank range. If he's not, then I'm just going to spend this round aiming at the cop who has to reload.))

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dirk Harrison and Blaine Richards:
After reloading, the cop sees his chance to get closer and dives for the next nearest table. Blaine pulls out his pistol, and Dirk takes good aim at the closest officer. The one with the radio brings it up to his mouth and pushes the talk button.

Mikal:
As soon as he answers the phone, Mikal hears loud gunshots in the background. Shots whose timing seems to co-incide with the more muted ones coming from The Third Degree. A pretty sounding female voice with a faint Latina accent screams "Don't ask questions, just ice the cops at The Third Degree and get me out of here and I'll give you a thousand dollars!" Her voice seems full of desperation.

Ernesto Vega, Dr. Lennox, and Stavis Reinheld:
((I wasn't quite sure how to interpret your statement about broadcasting his thoughts for everyone to hear, I assume you meant read his thoughts and then send them through Telepathy to Stavis and Ernesto.))

Thought receiving (1st action of 3): Dr. Lennox vs. ganger
Difficulty: 8 (Willpower 3 + 5)
AT: 17
Modifiers: -2 for first action of 3
Adjusted AT: 15 ((I don't see how you could possibly screw this up))
d10 roll: 1 + 15 = 16
MoS: 8 ((That's more than 6, so still a success even though you rolled a 1))

Thought sending (2nd action of 3): Dr. Lennox to Stavis Reinheld
Difficulty: 12
AT: 17
Modifiers: -4 for second action of 3
Adjusted AT: 13
d10 roll: 6 + 13 = 19
MoS: 7

Thought sending (3rd action of 3): Dr. Lennox to Ernesto Vega
Difficulty: 12
AT: 17
Modifiers: -6 for third action of 3
Adjusted AT: 11
d10 roll: 1 + 11 = 12
MoS: 0 ((not your lucky day, is it?))

Dr. Lennox hears a lot of re-assurances about how the ganger "gots to be one of da crew." While hearing the teenager's thoughts comes as no great surprise (obviously) to the good doctor, it is a much stranger and more unexpected sensation for Stavis. Ernesto never notices anything. Trying to concentrate on three psychic tasks at once was too much even for one of Lennox's power.

Stavis sees plenty of jewelery, particularly gold chains and teeth, being sported by the gangers. As for weapons and the object being passed, he can't quite make them out. ((I didn't make those rolls public, since you would have known how many were carrying based on how many rolls I made. Suffice it to say that you would have passed easily had you not tried to spot a bunch of things at once (multiple actions and all). Keep that in mind)).

Ernesto unbuckles his holster serrupticiously as he tries to make out the object, but the jacket covering it prevents him, and no amount of zooming can fix that. ((You rolled a 1, and still had positive MoS, just not 6 or greater, sorry ))

The youth takes the mystery object, glances down at it, and sits still as his companions whisper words of encouragment. He has now broken into a cold sweat.

[CorSec]

C'mon, c'mon. Just peek out for a second. Blaine was crouched behind the bar using it to steady his aim.

Mere minutes had passed in what felt more like an eternity. A small but insistent voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him to run. He couldn't explain it, even if he wanted to - or tried to, but he would swear that he was being held here by some invisible force. Every move he'd made that day felt like it was the exact one... God? ... wanted him to make that day. Blaine was sure that if he tried to run, especially now, something inetivitably would block his way or turn him around, forcing him to finish what had begun here.

There Minos sits, grinning, grotesque and hale.
He examines each lost soul as it arrives
and delivers his verdict with his coiling tail.

This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Blaine thought sardonically.

[Marcao]

It quickly became apparent to him that he would be unable to ascertain the object in question. The jacket the ganger had covering it was in his way and no amount of zooming would fix that. He had been outmaneuvered and he did not like it. His eyes kept watching the couple opposite the gangers, his peripheral vision watching the youth as he glanced down at the object as his companions whispered encouragement. He zoomed in on the face of the youth, taking notice of the cold sweat and immediately realized that he had to pay them a bit more attention.

Had he been able to see what the youth had been passed, he could have formulated a defensive strategy that would not have necessarily led to a large amount of bloodshed. Since he had been unable to identify what had been given to the youth, he had to assume that it was a firearm of some kind. If that was the case, then the gangers were a viable threat to him and he immediately began to mentally assemble a plan of attack. A part of him was tempted to simply pull the pin on his grenade and lob it in the lap of the teenagers. There was something elegant about that solution, but it would have killed the couple opposite them. He would prefer not to deal with grenades unless he had to. The idea of walking over and shooting the calm one in the head was also appealing and elegant, but it would make him the aggressor. Dozens of possibilities swam in his mind as he considered the best path to take in this particular situation.

In the end, he decided that he had to react to the situation rather than overtly snuff it out before it happened. It was his own way of giving the teenagers a final chance at life. It was not much of a chance however, for all the signs of the youth pointed that he would sooner or later crack beneath the prodding of his friends. If that was the case, then he would retire the calmest voice, a voice he had already tagged to its owner. After he retired him, he expected there would be a momentary shock, a hesitation at the sight of death that would grip the hearts of the other teenagers. After that, it depended on what he saw. Any and all threats to him would be eliminated. If you were old enough to carry a weapon you were old enough to die. His plan was rather simple, take four steps to his left and shoot the leader, crouch and get cover behind the fat lady on the corner of the train seats. If the lady moved, follow her around. If the lady complained, ignore her. If the lady tried something stupid, shoot her too.

He sighed softly, his body turning slightly as he sought to shield his arm from view as it carelessly slid beneath his leather jacket. “Damned Marlboro pack…” His voice soft and laced with irritation as he looked for his pack of cigarettes inside his jacket. In truth, his right arm had just curled around the handle for his revolver and remained there. He had no time to waste, his body leaning back against a pole for the moment. His eyes still glancing in the direction of the couple opposite the teenagers. He could still see them, and when the play started he would be waiting for it.

Notes: ((no need to apologize Arthur. Low rolls happen and this was minor in the scheme of things. It just made it that much more likely that Ernesto is not going to give much of a damn when/if the teenagers start their play. If he had seen it was a knife or something along those lines, he would not have felt the need to prepare to kill them. Right now, he is assuming it is a gun and that means he is getting ready to plug them the second it seems that they are making their play. *shrugs* that is Ernesto for you. ))

[Utsanomiko]

"I gots to to be one of da crew..."

....Yeah, I gots to be- wait, do I? Who the-? ...Just what the hell am I thinking? Stavis vigorously shakes his head to clear his train of thought. Must be due to breakfast, he assumed. Stavis hadn't eaten anything after breakfast; curry powder rolled up in a a page out of the newspaper. It was the B section. It included an article on stocks, home security, and and burglary rates, none of which he found very agreeable, and that certainly could be continuing now.

But anywho, the main point was that these punks were carrying merchandise. The good, sellable kind. And if any of them were going to make their move, this kid was definitely being pushed into it. Fresh Meat first, good deal. Then it's down to the other three. It was all a matter of letting the fresh meat kid make his first move, then deal with the other three. Hopefully there were other passengers on the car that'd attack the punks out of self-defense. Actually, this will hopefully just be a matter of getting some merchandise of these schmucks with as little force as possible Stavis rationalized. Just like that one mugger I mugged when he tried to mug me, a couple months back. Took his boots too, poor churlish bastard.

But the real question is still what their weaponry is. Fresh Meat was definitely carrying something, which was expected. Probably a gun, or just a knife. A knife would be better. Stavis leaned forward, resting his chin on his left fist, his elbows on his thighs, and made an effort to peer at whatever that object was, fairly indescretely through his shades. The older, calmer punk had to be the leader of sorts, and the other two his token toadies. The leader would have to be dealt with second, so Stavis made a note of checking out his possible weapons after he examined the freash meat kid.



((Which side of Dr. Lennox is my character sitting on, and which general direction are the punks sitting from us; on the oppoiste side of the car and off to the left, or off to the right? I've been assuming Stavis is on Dr. Lennox's right (and he to Stavis' left), and the punks are further down to the left, but I might be picturing that wrong.))

[Hotfoot]

As soon as he answers the phone, Mikal hears loud gunshots in the background. Shots whose timing seems to co-incide with the more muted ones coming from The Third Degree. A pretty sounding female voice with a faint Latina accent screams "Don't ask questions, just ice the cops at The Third Degree and get me out of here and I'll give you a thousand dollars!" Her voice seems full of desperation.

Mikal's first reaction is to hang up the phone in disgust when he hears the pleading voice at the other end. Ordinarily, an offer of a thousand dollars just for killing a few people would not be so bad. In some cases, it might have even been quite profitable, but he did not know this Alvarez woman, he had not worked with her before. He had no assurances that he would be paid for this, or that she was free of disease. Add to that the fact that The Third Degree was still several blocks away from where he was at the moment. Even if he were to run at top speed, he would only likely get there in perhaps a minute at best, and he would attract attention to himself the whole way there. Not favorable at all. Then there was the fact that she wanted him to kill cops. That meant that the police were already there and stuck in, likely calling for reinforcements by the sounds of gunfire. If he were to go and kill the cops already there, then the reinforcements would probably come in to find him there, in the center of it all with a smoking barrel and dead police officers everywhere. Cops hated that sort of thing with a passion. Knock a cop out, and you ruin their night, but they still get to go out after their shift for donuts with their buddies. Kill a cop, and you go onto their special shit list, where they have an entire SWAT team with your name on it and who could hold a grudge that would put a Russian Nationalist to shame.

On the other hand, if she had this number, she may well have it for a good reason. It could mean further potential work, assuming she was able to pay him regularly. It could mean that a former comrade was at the scene and gave her this number, or it could be someone who felt that Mikal had wrong him at some point and was trying to get him killed. Even ignoring the curious timing of the call, the whole proposition stank straight to heaven. For someone he liked doing business with, killing a few cops for a thousand dollars would not be out of the question, though he would have to be in a particularly good mood. This was a rush job with no preperation time, no support, no assurances of compensation whatsoever, a staggeringly high risk factor, and him with only a handgun and a knife. Then there was the exit. Backup would come in squad cars and paddywagons, cops would come with flak jackets, shotguns, and submachineguns. Mikal and the damsel in distress would have to exit on foot, and while he was confident in his own ability to lose the gaze of unwanted eyes in a crowd, he sincerely doubted she could do the same, and there well may be other tagalongs that she would want to save, further complicating matters.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number. This is Mikal Antoliovich, not Dymfool Sunovibitch. You have five seconds to convince me that you are worth my further attention."

Current Inventory:

• X-Light Armor
• USP Tactical .45 (Concealed, Loaded, Two Reloads)
• Silencer (Concealed, not attached)
• Combat Knife (Concealed)
• Smoke Pellets (Concealed)
• Stripwire Binders (x2, In Pocket)
• Mirrorshades
• Cell Phone (in use)
• Various personal effects

[Alyrium Denryle]

Dr. Lennox made up his ind very quickly. He decided to try and stop this initiation, before it even begun. There ws no reason for blood to be spilled, especially his own.

He reached out with his mind and tried to make a friendly suggestion to the boy((This shouldnt cause penalties, for no other reason than he is concntrating on the same task... I shoudlnt think it would be any more difficult than a normal suggestion... correct me if I am wrong though If the thought send works, but the suggestion doesnt, it would revert to a straight pursuasion, you know, those internal commitee(sp) meetings))

Playing off the boys own insecurities and nervousnes to get his message through... He spoke as the boys own concience

"What the fuck? I am just a kid, Iam not ready for this. This isnt right, these people dont deserve his, they have done nothing to me. I need to rethink this.. This isnt for me"

[Gerard_Paloma]

Dirk realized that these cops needed to die quickly. The pig at the door was already radioing in backup, and backup meant more assholes than he had bullets for.

He tilted the barrel slightly, sighting the cop's exposed neck, and
fired. It was going to get messier. A lot messier.

[Arthur_Tuxedo]

Dr. Lennox, Stavis Reinheld, and Ernesto Vega:
Sensing that this kid's mind is easily malleable and he doesn't really want to be doing this anyway, Dr. Lennox attempts to telepathically implant a suggestion in his mind. Since he already knows what the inner voice of the would-be gangster sounds like from reading his thoughts, he uses it to make it seem like the punk's own thoughts.

Thought sending (1st action out of 2):
Difficulty: 12
AT: 17
Modifiers: -1 for 1st action of 2
Adj AT: 16
d10 roll: 3 + 16 = 19
MoS: 7

The mimicing of the tough's inner "voice" is perfect, he'll never know it wasn't his own thoughts he was hearing.

Suggestion implantation (2nd action out of 2):
Difficulty: 11 (Willpower 3 + die compensator 5 + constant 5 - 2 "plays to pre-existing thought")
AT: 17
Modifiers: -3 for 2nd action of 2
AT: 14
d10 roll: 10 + 14 = 24
MoS: 13 ((I haven't quite gotten the specifics worked out yet, but a natural 10 along with a really high MoS qualifies as a Spectacular Success))

Dr. Lennox doesn't even have to finish implanting the thought. He knows it's worked by the second word, but he finishes it anyway. The youth suddenly stands up, and hands the object back to its original owner, saying "What the fuck, guys? I'm just a kid. I ain't ready for this shit! This ain't right. These peeps don't desrve this. They ain't done do harm to me. I need to re-think this. This shit ain't for me." He scurries out of the train amid dumbfounded expressions from his would-be companions.

Stavis sees the weapon clearly as it is passed. It's a TEC-9 9mm SMG.

Blaine Richards and Dirk Harrison
Hitting a moving target that's shooting back in the heat of combat is hard, even at close range and even if you're a trained shooter. Hitting them in the head is harder, and in the throat... well, that might as well be impossible.

Targetted throat shot: Dirk vs. cop
Difficulty: 20
AT: 18
Modifiers: +5 point blank, -10 specific targeting (head), -1 on second shot for recoil
Adj AT: 13, 12
d10 rolls: 3 + 13 = 16, 8 + 12 = 20
MoS: -4, 0
Damage (2nd shot): 16

Although the first shot goes wide, Dirk hits with the second shot right in the throat of the poor corporate thug in an encore performance. Blood sprays liberally from the hideous wound as muscle spams cause the trigger on the M5 to be pulled and bullets to spray everywhere.

Full auto: Cop vs. Dirk
Difficulty: 20
AT: 12
Modifiers: +5 for point blank, +2 for full auto, -2 for recoil
Adjusted AT: 17
d10 roll: 4 + 17 = 21
MoS: 1
General location: 3 (arms) ((arms are almost all-but covered by the bar, so we'll add it's resistance here, and I see already that there's no point rolling damage because it won't get through, but I will anyway just for the hell of it))
# of shots hit: 5
Damages: None (9, 7, 9, 6, 13 all minus 15 Resistance respectively)

The last shot actually manages to penetrate the bar and continue on to hit Dirk in his cybered arm, but by then it possesses so little energy that it just bounces off making a pathetic metallic "dink" sound.

As the cop comes into Blaine's sights and Blaine remembers to regulate his breathing for an accurate shot, he sees his target momentarily forget about the radio as he sees his compatriot go down. "Shit!" is all he manages.

Mikal Antoliovich: The voice calms down a bit. "Actually, I may not need you to ice the cops after all. A couple guys are already taking care of it. Regardless, I have a job for you that I think you'll be interested in. I can pay you in upgrades..." The voice entices in a sly voice.

[Utsanomiko]

The kid's sudden outburst and departure from the train was both quite unexpected and quite honestly dissapointing. Shucks dammit, I could have so taken that kid on, he cursed to himself with a random smattering of various slang. His eybrows probably raised a bit as the SMG came into open view, but went back down to their previous mild scowl as he watched the kid make his departure. He let out a perturbed grunt from the corner of his mouth. Still, he couldn't say he was completely disappointed; 9mm full-auto would have caught him off-guard and been a tough customer to deal with, but damned if Stavis wasn't still figuring out how he might've dealt with the kid anyway.

Just shoot him the second he comes comes nearby and lifts his gun, or if he walks up in front of me and asks for my cash, I'd stand up and pretend to reach for it but instead knock the gun out, punch his throat in, or just cap him in the head, or maybe if he stands over by... his head still swirled with the possible scenarios. That was a nice gun. He really could have used that gun (especially to deal with the other 3 punks) and the kid's jewelry (he probably had nicer socks on than Stavis did, as well), and taking it from the leader would be a lot tougher if/when they make a move.

Stavis' attention was turned again to the remaining punks on their side of the subway car. So that leaves us with three jackanapes, the leader has the TEC-9 now so he'll probably use that. So what does that mean the closest toadie is armed with? Stavis bagan pondering over the current situation, almost wishing some would happen now despite the main factor having already left.

[Gerard_Paloma]

Dirk wipes the blood from his eyes as he chuckles to himself. Jesus, if I was aiming at their goddamn necks all along, I'd already be outta this joint.

He shifts to the right, and brings the Ruger in line with the cop at the door. "Aim for the soft spot, kid."