Campaign of the Month: November 2014

Shadowrun - The Rat's Nest

Witches and Kings
a view from a scrying glass

After some time, the wolf arrives at the hut and knocks on the door. He seems a bit taken aback when Fog opens the door, but he’s friendly enough. The talk is not as helful as the group would have liked, though. The wolf does what wolves in fairy tales do, that’s why he wants to eat the pigs. It seems that the story keeps repeating itself and the wolf only has very foggy memories of it all. Eventually he wanders off.

So the group decides to make the deal with the witch after all. They follow the pigs’ directions and eventually arrive at a cottage standing on a chicken leg. They knock and the door opens, but no-one is home. Fog insist that they close the door and wait outside. It doesn’t take long for the witch to arrive in a mortar she steers along with a pestle. She looks somewhere between fourty and one hundred years old, with long, bony hands and long white hair. But she’s quite amiable, asks the group into her cottage and she’s interested in making a deal.

When no-one volunteers to be her maid for an indefinite time, she asks them to bring her an apple tree that has been stolen from her by a greedy king. They get directions to the castle and strict orders not to eat the apples. Apparently, they show future and past. The group promises not to touch them and sets out.

The castle is surrounded by a moat and a high wall, but they get in fairly quietly and without major problems. There is one guard, but they can knock him out and put Nebraska‘s re-filling bottle of wine next to him to make it look like he’s drunk on the job. In the garden, Zach steps on a rake, almost knocking himself out. The apple tree is easy to find, the apples glow in the dark, and they dig it up, hide it in a sack. Unfortunately, the tree starts screaming as soon as they try to leave.

They get attacked by huge toads with sharp teeth and divebombed by birds who shoot their metal feathers like arrows. With a desperate scramble, they make it over the wall and through the moat, kill some of the toads and run for it into the woods. Once they are sure no-one is following them, they unwrap the tree. It’s not broken, but two apples have fallen off. Fog and Jet pick them up and suddenly get an almost unresistable urge to eat them. Nebraska kicks Jet so hard he drops his apple, but Fog bites into his and keels over instantly.

A second later, he comes round again. The apple showed him the future, like he asked it to, and he saw a lake and a longhouse, form the view of someone who is really pissed at the people in the longhouse. As divinations go, this is unhelpful, but at least they know what to expect.

They bring the tree back to Baba Yaga and Fog tells her that he ate one apple. She takes that in stride, only says that she hopes it was worth it. She even invites them to stay for breakfast, which they accept. Fog asks her if he can have another apple and after some haggling, she accepts a night of lovemaking as payment. The others stay at the hut while Baba Yaga takes Fog with her in the mortar. They have some time to rest, Zach snoops around the hut and finds some spell books he reads.

After a day and a night, Baba Yaga returns with Fog, who look a bit the worse for wear. He did get his apple for his troubles. She already knows that Zach read her books and while she doesn’t curse him outright, she is not pleased. When they ask Baba Yaga about the spirit they are seeking, she tells that they they will probably all die if they go there. On that cheery note, they part company, after she gave them the grout for the pigs. The pigs give them a map for the mountains and the group follows the path.

Fog, after the things the second apple showed him, thinks that they cannot make Ytong see sense. He’s probably too far gone for that. Still, they decide to give him a chance, but if that doesn’t work, they will do their best to kill him. The mountains take two days to cross, then they see a lake in the distance. The landscape is quite beautiful … unless one turns around too quickly. Zach is the first to find out that everything take a little while to find its shape. A tree looks like it’s been slapped together from rough pixels and shaps until it senses someone looking at it, then it gets its normal shape. This is true for the whole landscape.

Grimm Times
a view from a scrying glass

Bony, longfingered hands place an earthen bowl on a table and add three drops of ink from a bottle, turning the water black. The hands pass over the bowl and it turns clear again, giving a view of a clearing in the woods

Five people are sleeping in the grass, wearing simple clothes that hint at medieval times. They soon start to stir. Fog is the first and he probably wakes up all the others because he’s wearing a suit of armor and he’s making a racket when he tries and at first fails to get up. They investigate their clothes and pockets and turn up some pretty weird stuff. Stanley has a wand that fires off stars and a small pumpkin when he points it at a tree while shouting Expelliarmus. He also has a small chest containing little birds with long beaks that seem to sleep. Jet has a small dragon. Zach has a pouch that refuses to open. Nebraska has a chest similar to Stanley’s, but hers contains silver beetles. She also carries a basket that contains wine and cake. She says this out loud, everyone stares at her and with an audible poof she suddenly wears a red cape. The basket also contains a huge knife and a compass.

Fog finds that he also now owns a rather pretty hand mirror. When he starts the Mirror, mirror on the wall-spiel, the mirror loudly interrupts and tells him to not even think about it. He’s not that kind of mirror. But still helpful, he tells them that to find the spirit they are looking for, they need to go through the woods and beyond the mountain. Jet climbs a tree and sees that the mountains are in the south. He also spots the roof of a tower. They set off.

The woods are quite beautiful and peaceful and there’s even a kind of path. Things are good until on both sides of the path, beautiful lights appear. Despite Fog’s warning, Zach and Nebraska go to investigate and play with the fairies. The faeries decide that they like Nebraska so much that they want to take her with them and all grab onto her, trying to lift her up. Jet aims his dragon and after a sharp pull on the tail, the dragon breathes fire. It mildy singes Nebraska and sets fire to the faeries.

After a while, they stumble upon a giant footprint that crossed the path. A chicken, to be precise, just one footprint. Both Fog and Stanley insist that they should leave, like RIGHT NOW. The others are confused and assume it’s just a giant bird. Neither Fog nor Stanley say out loud the name of the person they think is responsible for the footprint, but they finally get the group to move on at some speed.

The path winds through the woods and takes them past a well. Zach takes a look inside and nearly gets brained by a golden ball. Nebraska picks up the ball and the group launches into a discussion whether or not they should keep it or indeed interact with anything they see. The majority votes No or at least Not until we’ve agreed on it, but Nebraska doesn’t recognise that decision and takes another look into the well. A huge frog is just climbing out and tries to catch her with his tongue. Maybe he just wants a kiss, but they never are going to find out because Fog beheads the frog. The body turns into that of a young man, a prince probably, but still very dead.

After another discussion about the wisdom of happily picking up stuff along the way, they move on. A hazel bush is the next stop and at least Nebraska waits until she picks a nut. It opens and inside is a dress. It quickly grows until it’s exactly Nebraska size and, if she’s honest with herself, it’s exactly the kind of dress she has always wanted. She puts it in her basket. Zach picks another nut and gets a stuffed fox. He leaves it in the woods.

It is growing dark and they decide to make camp. No-one is exactly surprised when they arrive at the tower Jet saw earlier at just the right time. It has one door that opens easily and just one window, at the top floor. ‘Rapunzel!’, Zach shouts up to the window and a second later, a long braid drops down. The group has another discussion about how believe causes reality in this world or at least tries to, it’s cut short when the braind winds itself around Zach’s ankle and hoists him up into the air. He gets pulled into the window. The group rushes into the tower and find three intertwining stairs leading up into the dark.

Let Your Hair Down
a view from a scrying glass

In the dark, lit only by one torch, the group trudges up the stairs. It seems to take ages, far longer than it should. The edges of the stairs have a slight blue glow, but it disappears above and below in the gloom. Finally, they arrive at the top and open the trap door to the room above.

It’s moonlit, with polished wooden floors, a chair, a table, a rocking chair and a huge wardrobe, decorated with flowers and patterns that may or may not make up a face. Inside the wardrobe, there are only brown fur coats. There is no trace of Zach, but they do find a painting of him on the wall. It looks content at first, but starts to look frightened while they watch. Fog takes it from the wall and Jet sets it on fire with his dragon. When the fireball is gone, so is the picture, but they have Zach back. After a while, he even stops screaming. He tells them that he almost got killed by a Yurei, something he’s been afraid of as a child.

The group is a bit at a loss what to do. They want to help Rapunzel, but what if this isn’t Rapunzel? Or if Rapunzel has lost her mind after being imprisoned for who knows how long? In the end, they make a peace offering: the beautiful dress Nebraska got from her hazelnut. Nebraska holds it out to the wardrobe. Nothing happens. She says that she’s going to go in, but nobody pays attention because the group is bickering again. That only stops when the wardrobe’s door close with an audible click behind her. The walls grow another painting.

After another fireball, Nebraska is back and tells a story of a gingerbread house and a witch who did not take kindly to her roof being eaten. By now, helping Rapunzel is off the table. The plan is to drag her out of the wardrobe by her hair or chop the hair off until nothing is left. The floor starts to get squishy, the walls soft like taffy. The window gets smaller and smaller and it’s getting dark, the torch has burned out. Zach pulls a working electric floor lamp from his bag, the cord trailing into the bag.

The hair tries to grab Fog and he grabs it right back, with the help of Jet and Nebraska. They pull and by now, the trap door is getting smaller and smaller. Panic sets in and everyone but Fog abandones ship. Fog doesn’t let go in time and gets pulled into the wardrobe. Zach notices that Fog’s missing and the group comes back, does the painting trick again and while Zach is forcing open the trapdoor, they hack apart the wardrobe.

When it’s only splinters and pieces, the room goes back to normal and stays that way. After nothing attacks them, the group decides to spent the night. In the morning, they set out again. The trees start to look familiar after a a while and they notice that they’re going in circles. The mirror isn’t much help, so when they hear voices, they walk towards them.

They meet three pigs, standing in front of a brick house badly in need of repair. The pigs say that they would be willing to give them a map, but only when the group goes and gets them mortar from the witch. They need to repair their house before the wolfs comes by again and hope that magical mortar will do the trick. When Fog asks why the wolf is so eager to destroy their house, the pigs get defensive.

Finally, the group agrees, but once they are out of earshot, they decide to ask the wolf for his opinion. The mirror cannot tell them where the wolf lives, but suggests building a straw house. Zach’s bag supplies them with tools and a haystack and after a while, they have constructed a ramshackle straw house and settle down to wait.

Love What You Do, Do What You Love

[Recording Session, Session ID SEA#0005]

“Fuckin’ piece of junk!How d’you like that, huh?!”
The camera is oriented towards a grey sky, just some clouds are pierced by pale sunlight, while the curses of an angry woman mix with the sound of a heavy object pounding vigorously into plastic and metal.
“Yeah, get that outta your system, Motherfucker!”
A baseball bat clutters to the ground next to the camera which is now properly adjusted and shows Frettchen, squatting next to the device.
“Please, Doc, tell me you’re still sane, or I gotta put you down, too.”
In the background are various appliances, all smashed beyond repair.
“Good morning, Miss Aidee. Why are you so upset?”, the virtual doctor asks, slightly puzzled.
“Thank fucking God, they didn’t get you.”, Frettchen says with a good deal of relief.
“They?”, replies the program. “Miss Aidee, this behavior is alarming and frankly not matching prior diagnosis…”
“Relax, Doc…”, she cuts him off, sitting down and taking a breath. “Been cybertrolled and now I gotta do some… appliance-related cleaning.”
After a couple of seconds of awkward silence, the shrink clears his throat. “Very well, do you want to talk about this?”
“Nah… But while we’re at it, maybe about something else. So, you remember that job I told you about? ‘Course you do. Turned out it didn’t go as smooth as we thought it did and now Ruckus and I got fired. Maybe we shouldn’t have worn our own gang colors…”, she says, staring at the small harbor’s coastline. “But you know what? It was a shitty gig anyway. Stupid fucktard idiots, caught up in their mindless war for a drug and all that nonsense…”
The doctor nods, takes a few notes. “I think it is for the better that you are no longer involved in these kinds of crime.”
“These kinds? Jeez, your adaptive algorithms are more flexible than I thought… anyway, yeah. All the fun I’d get there, I could get for myself anyway. That’s kinda the thing, though…”, she ponders.
“Please elaborate on that, Miss Aidee…”
“Been thinking about stuff. Stuff from the past.”, the elf explains reluctantly, like carefully opening a barrel of angry snakes. “Pictures and mementos, some vids… Did you know I am married?”
“Sometimes, it is helpful to…”, he starts, but then blinks in shocked disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?!” he then blurts out, resting his face in the palm of his hand.
“Hey, language, Doc! Damn, you got some sick realistic protocols there…”
The doctor throws his notes away and pulls out a new scratchpad. “Please forgive me, Miss Aidee, I just need to process this and, yet again, adjust my modus operandi for an efficient therapy. This may take several minutes.”, he sighs. “And indeed, what I provide is based on advanced tutor-software, tailored to my patients needs. That includes language patterns and advanced socializing if necessary. But I would suggest we try to ignore the technicalities of our relationship for a more efficient dialogue.”
He straightens his tweed jacket, rubs his temples and then the projections looks at Frettchen again. “Please go on…”
“Yeah… So, I met my husband while I was on vacation, visiting the East Coast. That was seventeen years ago, bit more I guess. I had a lot of fun. Plenty of chaos, havoc, brawls and stuff, we let this kid tag along too, gotta spoil the youth, you know?”
Frettchen smiles contently, her gaze still fixed on grey waters in the distance. “Good times. Nostalgia’s poison, that’s what I like to think at least. But those were just… Good times. It felt right to stop every now and then, before resuming to whatever fun I wanted to come up with, because it never FELT like actually stopping. I had the best of BOTH, I had my cake and got to eat it too… And then the Flux State exploded in glorious riot, I had to leave, the crash made us lose each other and I wrecked half of Berlin’s Matrix terminals out of frustration… Point is…”, she hesitates, pondering. “No, wait… remember that list you gave me? Phases of life or some shit?”
After a bit of browsing through her comlink, a list flickers into existence.
1)Eat Everything
2)See Everything
3)Do Everything
4)Fuck Everything
5)Love Everything
6)Fix Everything
7)Earn Everything
8)Relax Everything

“Yeah, I made some adjustments. I don’t even know when 5 is supposed to start and I’m in my fucking fifties… Any advice on that, Doc?”
The doctor’s virtual forehead is wrinkled by a deep, thoughtful frown, as he looks up from his notes.
“My advice would be, if you cannot re-evoke this feeling of balance due to your husband’s unfortunate absence, try to find a surrogate.”
Frettchen raises a brow. “You mean, like…dating?”, she asks with a dash of disgust.
“No. Try to think of something that gave you a similar notion and then commit a pat of your day to that activity. For recuperative purposes, regenerating…creative energies, if you will, or even let what you love to do converge with this tool of balance. I am sure a woman with so many talents can find something worthwhile.”, he suggested.
“Got something specific in mind, you shrewd little bastard?”, she wanted to know, a sly smile sneaking up her face.
“From what I’ve gathered, and excuse my boldness, you enjoyed being a paramedic. Maybe it will take significant time until you overcome your utter hatred towards DocWagon, but that does not mean you have to hold yourself back entirely, Miss Aidee.”
After a long, stone-faced pause, Frettchen gives the projection a white-toothed grin and nods.
“That’s a nice thought…”
“I am glad I could be of assistance, Miss Aidee. Would you like to conclude this session or keep going?”
“Nah, s’okay…i’m done for today. Guess I’ll browse some more pics or write a song or something… Thanks, Doc."


Feeding the Troll

[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

What have I gotten myself into?
You know, ever since I stopped doing day-by-day business, by which I mean making sure to see the next sunrise, life has become a mess of actual organization and planning in advance.
Considering everything that lies ahead, I gotta start somewhere and that was coming clean with the Gypsies.
This deal bothered me right from the start and it was time to negotiate something more favorable for both parties. There’s no good way of saying this and that’s what I told them, as we sat at that table in the Squatters Mall: the deal’s off, but we may work together in the future.
They agreed, said ‘let’s bury the deal’, translating roughly to ‘you’re fucked’ in Gypsy-speak.
What they failed to realize was that this time they didn’t get the jump on me.
I wasn’t alone, and they didn’t have a hostage so I didn’t have to hold back.
They still had a troll.
Word around the Mall is, Ramrod was a pretty hot boxer once, and Spirits, that’s an understatement if I’ve ever seen one. He shrugged off punches I actually DID deck other trolls with…
And while I was busy breaking Gypsy-arms, poor Stan got to enjoy the beautiful experience of face-tanking a grown-ass troll.
After his three friends were down, I talked some sense into Ramrod.
People sometimes think trolls are idiots. Never make the mistake to confuse “simple” for “stupid”. Trust me on this one.
He understood that those guys were bad company and probably just using him for their own ends. All he wanted was some chocolate. And that’s something I gladly gave him, with a good job perspective on top.
Befriending trolls isn’t that easy, they tend to be loners. But I think we’re on a good way here.
We stripped the Gypsies clean, left them with their vests, boots and a knife, just as etiquette out here demands.
Sometimes, things work out like that.
In not so happy news, Screech’s gone.
Wait, that sounds horrible. I mean, he had a bad relapse. His cancer’s back and he had to sell the joint and his hardware to get treatment and one last vacation with his wife.. Fuck, I never knew he had a wife.
He’s in Tir right now and hopes he gets to see San Francisco while he’s still alive.
Spirits, it hurt seeing the old badger like that. Treatment’s 30k, I can afford it, so fuck the money. He earned himself some more good days and I’ll be damned if I let the Zone get him.
Still, logistics will be a nightmare without him, even with the little black book he gave me.
Speaking of which… Time for some calls.
[End Audio]

Tobias' Log

We have our delivery, believe it or not. The boxes smell a bit horsey, but the chocolate is sealed, so who cares.

Why does it smell horsey? I was hoping you’d ask. I noticed something was wrong when Zoé phoned the contact number, asking if there were any outstanding warrants against them? We checked this and had just picked up the phone to call back with a negative when a warrant did pop up. Resisting arrest, attacking officers of the law, reckless driving, wanted in connection with further crime, BOLO for a truck and an RV with no paint job. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Take a look at this video, if you want to see some nice acrobatics by Fog, taking out the cops with smoke grenades, and also if you want to see him screaming his head off while someone else in a chameleon suit drives them both through a mall on his bike, picking up some bubble tea on the way. I lost the RV soon after that, after the autopilot got deactivated. I don’t know what they did with it. The insurance company is screaming murder, though. But since they’re screaming at fake SINs, I don’t worry too much.

The truck was around a bit longer, hiding from the cops in some woodland or other. I think they had a hacker themselves to throw the cops off their scent, some of the stuff on the police scanner was faked. But it was good enough to last about as long as they needed it to. About that time, a monastery called the police that someone stole a horse trailer with two valuable horses in it. Yes, I did say monastery.

I’m not quite sure how our guys escaped that manhunt. All the bridges over the Hudson were closed down and police were looking for the horse trailer because they’re not dumb. But fact is, said horse trailer arrived here in the early morning, sans horses, avec chocolate. Our runners are in the hotel, but need another flight reservation because at least two of their SINs are burned. And of course we will need new documentation for the chocolate since it’s not exactly hot, but at least slightly warm right now. Not a problem, though, I already arranged matters.

End Run
Fog's Audios

End Run

[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

We did it.
We’re home.
And we’re filthy rich.
Only my stoic pragmatism makes me accept all this without laughing for a week straight.
Oh, yes, sure, things got crazy at the end.
I jumped on a police car, a police car Stan then friggin’ RAMMED!
Nebraska and I cannonballed my bike through a mall, I got shot, yet again, we stole a horse trailer ‘cause our rides were hot, while our doc dumped the RV in a lake.
THEN we had to go Black Ticket on the Hudson river, but we fucking made it!
We also found out that Jet isn’t a street kid but a drop-out corporate brat and Stan’s the kind of doc who won’t waste your precious tasty organs when you die on his table.
But who gives a fuck who my people once were?
We’re all alive.
It feels so good that all this paid off.
Still, there’s much ahead… I have to talk to so many different people it makes my head swirl.
I gotta take care of the chemical plant as I promised I would, I need to help Neil with Esmeralda’s legs, I need to sort things out with those Gypsies and… I gotta to prepare.
There ain’t no rest for the wicked and even less so for me.
Glow City ain’t gonna wait much longer for me. Each day that passes tips the scales in favor of Crow’s twisted counterpart.
You can say what you want, but this trip was only a test, a means to temper and steel us for what’s to come.
It’s only been three weeks, but me and my people, we grew and it showed that we could lean on each other.
Most of us, at least.
Can’t say what lies ahead and how ugly things will get, how hard life will swing its bat or what surprises it throws.
But I’ll stick to what I’ve said. I’ll get them through this alive.

[End Audio]

Little House on the Prairie
Fog's Audios

Little House on the Prairie

[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

There are islands in this troubled sea we call life.
Heh, look at me, all the suffering, empty highways and clear sky turned me into a poet. I should probably pick up a drinking habit, but one step at a time.
What I’m getting at is that sometimes, there are places you wouldn’t expect.
Considering our bad experiences and all, we didn’t want to camp out at the great lakes and instead settled for a huge farm just outside of Cleveland.
Cleveland itself was off limits. Too much crime and gang activity for my taste.
That’s saying something, right? Also, Nebraska wouldn’t stop talking about this stupid theater organ or some shit.
Don’t even ask…
Yeah, so, the farm.
Nice places like these make you paranoid. There’s no way decent human beings exist and CONTINUE to exist in the Sixth World, right?
Well, these people, good Christians or something, got by just fine.
They offered us food, shelter and company and lived a good life.
We returned the favor by abducting two of the community’s kids.
Lemme’ explain:
Both of them didn’t dig the sheltered life here and essentially asked us to smuggle them outta there.
I thought this was a bad call. Everyone of us didn’t quite understand why they’d give up all this.
But I’m not the kind of person who tells people how to live their lives. If they fuck up, they usually at least get a lesson out of it.
Zoé more than disagreed, basically yelling at us from her proverbial three-story horse how irresponsible it was to ruin their lives and taking them from their families.
I told her, if she wanted them to stay here, all she had to do was ratting them out to their parents and she’d ‘save them’ alright.
Yet again, she didn’t have the guts or at least the conviction to give a foundation to her hypocritical bullshit.
We picked them up in the morning.
To be fair, Zoé wasn’t completely wrong when she doubted their…adaptability to a less sheltered world.
So I showed them how the world works. A little test of integrity, if you want.
I kicked the guys ass, took their stuff and made clear that WE were the good kind of people they could expect out there.
They still wanted to bail, still wanted to live their own life.
And I can respect that.

We let them ride along till Fairview, just as agreed. Their parents made an attempt to track them down and even found us, but we could talk our way out of it.

[End Audio]

Fog's Audios


[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

I kinda feel sorry for all that ranting an bitchin’ about Zoé.
Then again, it’s better to vent here than rage all over her.
In a way, it reallys isn’t her fault. It doesn’t change anything about what I’ve said. I meant every friggin’ word. But after all, it’s not worth wasting so much words and energy on it, you know?
Going at least kinda full circle:
Some things in life tend to prompt the retrospective question ‘Was that a good idea?’ which is eventually answered ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
When I was sitting on the roof of our RV, pondering, I had one of those ideas.
Cash was running out. All we had left were pathetic 300 Nuyen and those wouldn’t carry us to Boston. Jet suggested to rob a weapons store but that would just make things worse.
With limited time, a pretty narrow set of skills to apply to this situation, our backs against the wall and the basic rules I go by there was only one solution at hand:
Find an underground fight club and get bruised for cash.
Sounds easy enough, doesn’t it?
Took some digging and some bold words, but the local Russian host of the fine martial arts helped us getting into the gig that evening.
2 grand for a win was pretty convincing and so Nebraska, Jet and I signed up.
The rules seemed pretty fair, apart from the usual ridiculous ban of magic from sports. Yeah, sure, cyber up as much as you like but Spirits forbid if you’re an adept…But enough bitching, I took it as an opportunity to try working with limited resources.
Fight night was pretty exciting. Now I understand why Dad always got that nostalgic gleam in his eyes on the rare occasions he told about his past as a fighter.
The cheering crowd, that primal surge of adrenaline when it all comes down to the skill of two people pitted against each other…
If you ever hear this, Dad, sorry for borrowing your stage name or whatever it’s called in this business.
Bummer Nebraska and Jet got their asses handed to them and Leonid’s rival wanted me to lose this fight. It would be less fun, but then again, we were here for the cash, not for glory.
I made clear his threat didn’t impress me and that I wouldn’t lose for free. So he agreed to cover the price money we’d lose.
Ironically, even though I tried my best to not go all out, I still sandbagged Chernobok, the town’s champion. Weird thing was, unlike me, HE didn’t want to lose. He was fit and not drugged or anything but Spirits, he was slow and had the defense skills of a toddler.
Something wasn’t right and before I could figure out what it was, he passed out in the tamest sleeper’s hold I could muster.
That Russian outside the ring who just lost a lot of money looked like he was going to fuck me and at least the next 6 generations of my descendants up while I tried to get the doc of this place to take a closer look at Chernobok. Something was fishy here. He said everything was alright, but when I took an astral look at our “champion” I saw he was a deluxe chrome job.
Guess what?
His manager, our nice event manager switched off all his gadgets and now he was just a regular human. That guy didn’t have a clue what was going on.
If things go south, at least walk in the sun, right?
So I went straight for our ‘partner in crime’ who was too puzzled by the sheer display of guts to murder me. I could convince him that this wasn’t my fault; that we both got double crossed here.
He let us keep the money and I guess he had a nice talk with Leonid, involving broken bones and bloody money.
Never found out.
We got outta there as fast as we could, pockets stuffed with Nuyen and alive and well…

[End Audio]

Fog's Audios


[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

So far, our two guests are holding up, despite the heavy shit they’ve been through.
Abby’s doing pretty well, video games are a solid distraction, I guess.
Zoé tried to convince them to ride all the way with us to Boston, get some IDs and fly back witht us to the Nest. She went all out, telling them what a good place it is and what a nice community.
Rose looked as if she’d rather jump right out of the window and I can relate.
Walk a mile in their shoes and tell me you’d trust a stranger promising this kinda bullshit. Even if it’s true.
Zoé didn’t let go, though, pestered her until they at least promised to consider it and stay in contact.
Think that’s where the proverb featuring hell and good intentions comes from.
Anyway, it’s been a quiet day it’s my turn to drive the RV.
Let’s hope it stays that way…

[End Audio]

[Start Audio]
[no time stamp]

Let me… Let me tell you the story of a girl I once kinda liked.
She had a difficult childhood. Which isn’t her fault.
She had a rough time on the streets with many dangers and evil people. Which wasn’t her fault.
But obviously she had a very patient fairy godmother who brought her through the first 16 years of her life ‘cause she fucks up everything she ever touches and should be ten times dead by now. Which absolutely can’t be her fault, since, you know, nobody fucks shit up so much all by their own.
It’s also not her fault that she had the bad luck to run over a category 10 free spirit called Daio. You really can’t blame the poor girl from my story that she literally can’t drive to save her life.
And since she magically never is responsible for anything she ever does, it’s also not her fault that she’s a fucking coward who’d rather let her best friend take the fall for her incompetence or bad luck and subsequent lack of guts.
And the moral of the story?
If you’re Zoé you can get away with everything, because nothing is ever your fault and everyone else is an asshole. You never need to take responsibility or try to learn or even change.
Life is just unfair and you can’t do anything against it.
And as long as you have friends you can rely on them to take the hits for you.
Strongarmed into a spirit pact?
No problem if you fucked up! Nebraska’s here to bite the bullet and now has to lend her body to this particularly crafty spirit for a day.
Just when I thought Zoé couldn’t probably score less in my book, she pulled this thing off.
At least I won’t doubt this anymore now…
[End Audio]


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