Mission 15 – Critical Care

Written by: Levi          Played on: 23 Jan 2010
PREVIOUS: Mission 14 – Wetwork, Pure and Simple – Part 3
NEXT: Mission 16 – Primal Forces

There is a ring stain from where a glass has been set in the top-left corner of the page.

The call was around 3 pm. The fixer was polite. The meeting was at the Five-by-Five.

The noise filters out as I come in with my associates. Bars were beginning to blur together day by day; greasy holes in the walls for rats to hide in. Our weapons were checked at the door fairly coarsely, and we were directed into a side room.

I kept mostly to myself upon entering. Foodstuffs, a Johnson, and two bodyguards. Was I dreaming, or had I seen this before? I was having more of these Shadowruns in my sleep now than awake. When no one was looking, I plugged my nose and found I could not breathe through it. Awake.

The Johnson said he sought us for investigation and recovery. He told us he would prefer it kept quiet versus being done quickly. He offered us four-thousand each. My ears pick up only the meat, and four-thousand did not seem adequate to me. I suggested to the tap-dancing caster that he attempt to persuade more out of our business partner. He agrees to add an additional thousand.

Our Johnson introduced himself as Brett Fuller once we are committed to the job, a representative of the DocWaggon Company. He told us that persons had gone missing that were registered with their insurance. He went on that their built-in tracking systems and bio-alert systems within said individuals have not gone off, and the reasoning behind it seemed to be… difficult to fathom.

Each member’s contract with the company was high ticket. They were all female; all young. All orcs. Amusing that anyone would care about disappearing orcs to begin with… but they would likely not do well to have the public discover that they were linked to these disappearances, regardless of race.

This run was suppossed to be linked to the Runner’s actions in An Ounce of Prevention where I forgot to tell them about a data chip they could have sold. The data chip contained a list of Doc Waggon contracts along with medical data such as gender, race, age, etc.

While looking into the dissapperances, the team would have realized that they were all related to the data chip they sold many months ago and that, while not directly, they were responsible for the dissappearances and lent a moral responsibility to the run.

Alas, I forgot it, so the run simply became just another job.

It was little to go by, and I let my partners do most of the soil fingering. One of the orc women had disappeared at a mall, and after obtaining the tapes from the event, we discover that her transmissions to DocWaggon cut off very casually as she was shopping.

No one was around, and she did not seem to notice. She stepped out into the street later on, and for reasons off-camera, passed out. A small crowd collects, and a vehicle resembling the make of a Docwaggon truck pulls up to collect her, and leaves. It is not registered, and from our investigations, no official DocWaggon vehicle ever arrived on the scene.

I feel an itching frustration that I need to get out while the less grotesque woman calls up Loco, the mad, to see if he, in his junkyard car-toy world, has heard anything about such a vehicle. He directs us to a dealer known as the Duke.

Buzzing continues as we go to pay the Duke a visit. I anticipate the opportunity to interrogate, but it doesn’t really come up. This Duke seems a clean fellow, for a troll mechanic anyway. Works on vehicles from a gutter shed. He smokes, I notice, as does everything around him.

I bring myself out of my head briefly while we look over his facility. It comes to reason very swiftly that he did do work on rigging a vehicle to look like a Docwaggon truck. However, the man appears innocent enough. His paperwork is crude, his filing sloppy. Nothing shines through that he is someone who would require his throat cut open to provide us with the names of the culprits with the car.

Perhaps we could have saved ourselves some time in finding a more gestureful and swift way of asking him for their contact information and their address… instead, the Jade creature takes him upstairs to persuade him. The persuasion is very loud, and takes all night. In the morning, we have their address information, and, for perhaps the first time, I witness the troll whore as tired.

We are given an address, which appears to be legitimate… on Sesame Street. Our targets are Burt and Ernie. I presume that the Duke was given false information and was too stupid to check it over. Still, we visit the home to search for clues. It turns out that the car is in the garage, and the culprits are INDEED named Burt and Ernie.

When we enter the house, they make a meager defense before we bring them to the edge of death and back again. I may have accidently shot the other mage in the scuffle… at least, I’d like to think I did.

There is a wet stain on the paper here.

We find out fairly swiftly what the situation is. These two blokes, probably lovers by the look of their abode, once worked for DocWaggon. They were fired… however, a programmer from the company named Mr. Carl Weiss hires them back for private work. This man would remotely shut down the tracing mechanisms within these female orcs, before the two lads would collect them in their fake wagon and turn them over to a place they referred to as “the Farm” and an individual named Arnold. 

When asked to take us there, despite their predicament, they refused in abject terror. Arnold. Carl Weiss. – We inform our Johnson, who puts him on watch. Continuing our dramatic acts of subtlety, we decide to head directly to the farm, binding and taking Burt and Ernie along for the ride.

I seem to remember we picked up a girl, who was frightened of something, and nearly as frightened by our deployed turret. At this point, the vehicle’s company was so erratic that I just tried not to care. It turned out that she was being hunted down by a load of gang members. Who were they again… well, they’re dead now. Suppose it doesn’t matter.

The gang was in fact the Aurora Angels, which the group tangled with in The Flip Side. Of course their presence was completely coincidental, they weren’t looking for the team; but in a game where players assume the world revolves around them, they assumed Base 13 was back for some revenge and set to decimating everyone there.

The woman they picked up was simply stranded after the gang attacked her vehicle earlier in a random bit of violence. After dealing with the Aurora Angels, they dropped her off enroute to their destinatoin.

The toppling bodies helped to clear my head, somewhat. Our van rumbled towards the address of the “Farm.” It appeared to be a rundown school, long since abandoned. It was guarded, however, by watcher spirits, although poorly. We managed to infiltrate the complex without being spotted.

I remember dust. We navigated through collapsed entryways like a maze, eventually finding our way downstairs. Therein, we came to a set of locked doors. After opening them, we discovered the locked doors contained a room filled with some odd dozen ghouls, which attacked us. I’m pretty sure I shot another one of my teammates then, but who can keep track of these things? A lot of firing… a lot of killing. They all together go, all together.

It appears that this room was locked to keep these mad ghouls in, not intruders out. While my associates travel upstairs, I stay behind to nuzzle through the bones in the corners, looking for signs of the females we were there to obtain. Noise commences upstairs, and outside.

Recasting invisibility on myself, I come upstairs to find a load of fire elementals and several armed, mentally-present ghouls engaged with my teammates. I do what I can, see… and they all go away. Lights out.

I do, however, remember the glorious mess we uncovered. It turns out that the complex was gathering orc women in order to impregnate them with some kind of ghoulish half-breeds, I think. That or they were just making fodder meat without brains for them to eat. Either way… it was a delightful experiment; exquisite to watch this dark dream smash to pieces under our heels.

Our targets were found there, mostly in good condition, along with many other women in different levels of pregnancy. My associates were taken back, filled with crude senses of vengeance and disgust. I only enjoyed the wave of sensation from opening such a wonderfully buried closet.

Clint, the tap-dancing dwarf, did not fare so well in combat. Neither did the Jade creature. Turns out, while we were battling our way up top, that our support on the exterior was in equal levels of conflict. They lived, however… as I happened to be around.

We called in extraction for the women after clearing the complex of rotted life. I am fairly sure we did not burn the place down, but I’d like to remember it as if we did… if not, maybe I will go back there on my free time one of these nights.

He did not.

We received an extra bundle of currency for our speedy and thorough service. Women saved, a horror house shut down, and street rats put out of their stupid heads and bodies.

If only everything wasn’t so blurry through bourbon.

PREVIOUS: Mission 14 – Wetwork, Pure and Simple – Part 3
NEXT: Mission 16 – Primal Forces

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