Filed under: Game Posts
Cold Hard Steel
“The stims’ all locked up in a container in my bag, no way to cut it open without breaking everything. Gotta be careful too.” Mason says, trying to lead the mutie to believe he’s about to score some dope.
Bluff Check: 5+5=10. Failure!
“Bullshit! Just give me your bag, asshole!” specks of yellow-ish saliva fly out of the sputtering mouth of the mutant thug and land on Mason’s shoulder. He struggles not to shudder.
“Yeah, sure, it’s all yours boss.” Mason says with a friendly smile as removes the pack from his shoulder.
The man grabs the bag and backs up slowly. He keeps the blade pointed at Mason, a paranoid yet slightly excited look on his face.
“Like I said, the shit’s all locked up,” Mason tries to pass his bluff through determination, “the key though…”
The mutie quirks a brow and peeks into the bag as curiosity gets the best of him.
“…is right here.”
The mutie hits the ground in a heap.
Opportunity is Knockin’
Gunshots echo from outside the bar, nearly blending in with the loud music that floods Vector’s.
“A private room?” DeAngelo questions Kaphred’s comment before taking a few puffs off of the pungent cigar. “I don’t think that will be necessary. We’re among family. Just have a seat.” he grins slightly.
The crew reluctantly slides into the booth with the strange man. By now the booth has filled up with thick cigar smoke, prompting Kaphred to attempt to hold his breath. All three squint slightly in reaction to the stinging smoke coming in contact with their eyes.
“As you’ve probably guessed, I am DeAngelo. They call me a “Fixer.” I’m the middleman. I find the work, hire the crew, and make sure both parties fulfill their end of the bargain.” the scarred figure in the shadows continues, “You are the crew. Well, not yet. But you will be. We’ll make sure of that.”
Kaphred attempts to casually cover his nose, the waves of smoke emanating from the nostrils of DeAngelo becoming more and more voluminous as the conversation goes on. Tank and Ako continue to swig their drinks, trying to ignore the toxic gas and instead focus on what’s being said.
“Here’s how it works. An employer comes to me looking for a Wolf Pack. You’ll never see the employer, you’ll never speak to the employer, you’ll never even know the employers name. If you have questions or need to talk to someone in regards to a job, you’ll talk to me. Need some equipment or gear, talk to me. Bottom line is, I’m your contact so keep your bloody noses out of the business of the man who’s writing your pay check. Any questions before we continue?”
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