Campaign of the Month: November 2014

Shadowrun - The Rat's Nest

New Flock
- 6 -
Fools Rush In
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Ain’t no rest for the wicked, I guess.
I got around the Nest, met a few people, made the impression of the decent fella I am.
Had time to sort some things out.
Guess it was about time to fence that loot and check on Screech as well.
Talking about old times and killing the fine whisky I’ve stolen. That old badger of an ork doesn’t get out often these days. He used to run the Zone like us, but age and radiation caught up with him. Now he sits in a shoebox in the Mall, coordinates his pool of idiots brave and/or stupid enough to go salvaging in Glow City and sells hardware.
Still a tough bastard. Got no idea how he managed to keep that explosion of hair and beard of his through chemo.
Maybe he skinned a dwarf or something…
Shit, gotta catch that call, gimme a Sec…

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As a rule of Thumb:
Think first, then fucking act.
‘Good call, kid. Give yoself some cred, though. That one button you got, got pushed fuckin’ hard.’
That’s Screech. Say hello, old man.
’You’re seriously messed up, Fog.’
Yeah, we both are, after this little intermission, I guess.
That metaphoric button…didn’t think It’d make me such a tool.
Turned out the last time I was here, some Gypsy overheard that I was talking about potential customers for our next run and a certain luxury good involved. I maybe even dropped some numbers…
And yes, don’t look at me like that, I KNOW this is a hardware store and not friggin Candyland, but you don’t got that black book o’yours for nothing, right?
Anyway, the Gypsy beat the living shit outta Screech here, until he caved in and called me.
Told me he had a lead on Rook.
I sat on my dirtbike before he even had time to hang up.
Finally!
Finally I’d had a good shot at finding her.
If I wasn’t so desperate, I might’ve noticed how Screech had a clearly more muffled and stressed out voice than usual. How he sublty tried to warn me.
I was in jittery endorphine mode until I -much too late – realized something was off.
No Ork, no shotgun under the counter and three Gypsies walking in on me…
Yeah, right.
I have some rough guidelines to check before I get into trouble. And taking on three Gypsies in a bareknuckle fight kinda breaks my scale.
So I ran. I’m good at that.
Contingency, however, is open source.
They brought a troll who guarded the backdoor.
Nice way to realize your guardian angel just quit his job.
‘More like he gave you the finger after he crapped on your desk, if ya ask me.’
Thanks for that image, chummer…
I took a beating from a troll once and lemme tell you, when those guys get serious about it, I’d rather have angry-sex with a jackhammer than run through that experience again.
‘Jeez…and you complain about my imagery?!’
I didn’t…whatever…I took a dive and he only gently pat me, so I got away with a cracked rib or two and rolled into the storage room.
There I had the exit…and Screech, all tied up and bruised like shit.
Cosidering my fight or flight protocols, all bets are off when my people are at stake.
Won’t abandon my kin, no matter the odds.
I grabbed a buggy, hauled the old ork’s ass onto it and tried to get away.
No way out now though. Cornered, outnumbered…
‘Ha, and he was all like: Fuck, Screech! Where are the grenades?! And I was like: Mpph-mmph-mpph, ’cause I was still gagged. Grenades…get your shit together, Fog…’
Hey, I was kinda under pressure there…
Life throws stuff at you, so friggin use it.
Words I remember very fondly.
That huge gas tank over there? Might be a good leverage for a deal. Or at least I’d take down some assholes with me.
I swear to all spirits…the look on their faces when I opened the valves and pulled out my lighter?
Priceless.
Even went through the troll’s thick skull that he’d better stop trying to punch me.
Going down in a blaze of pain and fire didn’t seem too appealing to them.
A draw. Not bad for someone running on empty against four guys, right?
We talked. Turned out they were only here to chip in to the run.
I made an arrangement everyone could agree on.
Sometimes, all it takes to make ends meet is the threat of a horrible fiery death and everything’s fine.
‘Ballsy move, I’ll give you that. Didn’t think we’d made it outta there in one piece.’
Cheers to the winners then, old man…

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