Mech suits, assualt cannons, ninjas, and drakes…on the highway…shit was crazy. They’re dead, we’re not, booyah. :p
He makes it sound so easy…
So, after we got the doc’s kid out and patched up, Lance’s job came to the front. The gear was starting to come in, courtesy of two big suitcases Chance picked up out of a locker at the train station. Form fitting body armor, and – Fuck me! – an assault cannon! with some shells and some specialty ammo for a certain pair of Government 2066s. Half of it was standard armor piercing, but half of the cannon shells and rounds sloshed around a bit.
Morning of the job, Chance and Ice went in to some, I imagine rather shady, body shop for the skillwire hookup to run something Lance had rustled up. They came back to the shop to find a shiny new maglock on the door, with our new marksman stuck behind it.
Lance sure knows someone with a knack for finding things. Off the back of this particular truck had fallen two suits of exo-armor, or some shit like that. Definitely experimental, definitely top shelf goods.
One problem… We only had one truck, not exactly enough to hold a giant with an assault cannon and two troll sized suits of armor. Conveniently enough, our hacker managed to hook up a Citymaster for the job. INconveniently enough, it happened to be a mobster’s human trafficking rig. Chalk up one more group of people we’ve managaged to piss off randomly.
The rest of the job was fairly straighforward, at least as far as this sort of thing goes. We got the two trucks out in front of the convoy, and I came up from the rear. This convoy didn’t mess around. Lots of armor was rolling down the highway.
Of course, we happened to have somebody on our side up in an attack helo, so there were some surprised guards when the middle of the convoy exploded into a nasty burning cloud of oil smoke. We acted like just your average motorists for as long as we could, and then all hell broke loose.
For being a slow-witted giant, Biscuit has quite the hot hand for heavy guns. The first shot from the assault cannon shredded the engine in our target’s limo. He’d also manage to take out a couple of the other armored vehicles while getting shot up by the LMGs on the scout cars.
Eventually, enough casualties were inflicted to bring out Mr. Big himself with his ridiculously wired up bodyguard. The target slung some wicked mojo at the helo trying to wreck his day, but it managed to shrug off the worst of it. It had some help with Ice dropping the drones that were also trying to ruin its day.
Our current least favorite people were none too pleased when I chucked a grenade out of the smoke right at their feet. Oh, and thank goodness for shamans with binoculars. The Judge melted the bodyguard’s face while His Stankiness fed him some lead. Good thing, too. That son of a bitch would have torn me in half if he made it to me.
Right about then, we decided it was a good time to unleash the nastiness in the special shells on our target. After I tagged him with one, he was most definitely displease. OK, he was super-omega ripshit pissed, and hulked out in the middle of the road. By the way, drakes=bad day. The bastard took a lot of pepper, but our giant buddy put those shells with their secret sauce right where they needed to be. Turns out, our special loads were filled with pure, unadulterated mercury, and somebody was allergic to that shit.
But all was not good in the land of us. The APCs that the crew in the trucks cracked happened to have a deadly cargo of ninjas or some such nonsense. They stabbed up the stinky one, and it was only Lance’s crazy armor that kept Ice from becoming sashimi. Chance hosed down most of the ninjas with his AK and got the other rigs out of there while he indulged his manhood by going hand to hand with our new least favorite people in all of Seattle. The sheer awesomeness of his armor led to quite the stalemate with our new assassin buddy. The guy in the Banshee, recovered from Mr. Big’s mojo, ended it with a rocket to Chance’s back. The armor saved him, but the ninja wasn’t so lucky and perished in a spray of frag from the missile.
Needless to say, it was time to get the fuck out. Back at the ranch, Lance told us that the silver bleeding dragon thingy turned road pizza was a relative of… Lofwyr. Yeah, I thought the name would ring a bell. We definitely need to lay low for a while, but that should be helped with the round of shiny new SINs provided by Lance. Although, I’d rather be chilling in Laos like his ass is right now, but I wasn’t the one making an obscene amount of nuyen on this job…
And we had to give the armor back. Some back room project at MCT. But what’s the deal with that? We blew up one of their plascrete plants on the first job we did for Lance. I suppose, though, that they were happy to let him use it to get at Saeder-Krupp. I mean, nobody likes a dragon, especially one that controls a seat on the Corporate Court.
There you have it. It’s probably a good thing I haven’t met Lance in person. I’d be too tempted to punch him in the face, and that’s a bad thing to do to an employer. Anybody else have something to say?
“About, about, in reel and rout The death fires danced at night.” -Raven