rolled 5, 3 = 8

---

rollan

Suggestion 2011/04/17(Sun)21:43 No. 297503 ID: d3dfb8
File 130310182045.png - (26.31KB , 249x322 , WutenDice.png )

Welp, that's the end of that quest.

rolled 93, 39 = 132

---

voting for The Wonder of Power

and rollin

rolled 7, 27 = 34

---

Mosin all the way, much though I'd love to bring out some 700 Nitro Express goodness...

Also dice.

POOOOWEEEERRRR

Oh, I forgot to vote moist nugget.

>>297501
FFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Our weapon is The Beauty of Finesse, definitely. There's no weapon like a magic weapon.

Mosin Nagant.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/17(Sun)22:22 No. 297517 ID: a76809
File 130310413989.jpg - (78.13KB , 3387x527 , Keihas.jpg )

>>297501
>>297504
>>297505
[5+93+7/3=105/3=35th Percentile Marines Camp Pendleton]

Now, let's be clear here-I was no 'gifted' recruit for the marines. Yes, there were those that did worse than me-but quite a few who did better. I did just well enough to not be singled out for only barely qualifying. Definitely not the crack shot of my training group, or the fastest runner-I was fifth-best in the unit for hand-to-hand fighting, my one and only claim to fame, and a great deal of that was attributed to my size (six four and one hundred four kilograms) and heritage. So, other than a very minor reputation as a bruiser, all I really accomplished in Pendleton-was not standing out.

[3+39+27/3=69/3=23rd Percentile Rangers Fort Benning]

While it is true that with the seasoning I gained since Camp Pendleton, I could probably have outshot all but two or three of the others in my Marine training group, I was in a constant war to avoid dead last on marksmanship in the Rangers. Again, hand-to-hand proved my greatest strength, with me staying in the seventieth percentile and above in those aspects of our training through the whole process. Thanks to my heavy aquatic focus from Pendleton, I do passably in the amphibious portions of training-and my time in Iraq and Afghanistan keep me from looking like a complete fool in the urban portions as well. Once again, all I really accomplish, is not accomplishing anything-I stand out for neither a positive or negative reason. Records exist of my attendance-but only my distant relative would likely remember me having been there.

[BACKGROUND TRAIT]: -LOW PROFILE GRADUATE
Armas did not draw attention, good or bad, in either of his training programs. As such, he is slower to be identified as ex-military by any given legal system. This trait provides no combat bonus.

>>297505
>>297508
>>297512
>>297513
>-The Beauty of Finesse Chosen
Just as with my low-key military background, I possess a low-key rifle. An M28/30, a Mosin Nagant with history by the name of Keihäs. Sure, the 7.62x53 and 7.62x54 rounds it can chamber aren't the hardest hitting around-but this particular model of gun is accurate as all get-out-and so long as I smash in a face at least once a week, I swear the rifle nudges my shots to be just a bit better than they really should be. I have the rifle, a full set of spare barrel, chamber, bolt of identical make, cleaning and basic maintenance supplies, and a crate with five hundred rounds for the thing-twenty of which happen to be tungsten-cored, which I fully intend to add silver to, for dealing with the 'special' nasties.

Which brings me to my issue, really.

See, I know how to use pistols, revolvers in particular, spring-mounted holdouts especially-if anything closes on me I am confident I can defend myself between ten shotgun shells. My rifle Keihäs is slowly becoming a part of my body, I'm getting so used to it-but the custom-made pistol-mounts that lock on my arms for the holdouts, the rare, history filled rifle, a new, safe place to live-that doesn't come cheap. Most of my savings from my military days have gone kaput getting me set up here in Constantino-Istanbul.

Which brings us all the way to the present day for me: I got three separate groups that have contacted me with potential jobs, and while none are on the spook side of things, all seem pretty important.

-First possible job is for the Triads. That drug runner the other day was a friend of theirs, so they are willing to give me a go on his recommendation. For five hours work as a guard, they offer $4,500 US.
-Next possible job is for a local pawnshop owner-he wants some no-name dead. Seems weird he wouldn't just pay a vagrant to do the job-they guy doesn't have protection. Only problem is apparantly a fair number of Triads use this bum as an informant. But when someone offers $8,000 to whack someone who lives alone.... well...
-Last job is for some Russians that struck me as wannabe-KGB. Not sure just what SPECIFICALLY they represent, but they are willing to pay me $3,000 US to MISS someone. Seriously, all they want is a bullet to impact near some university professor-imagine they want to scare him.







Depending on the risk of the job the amount of time I will have to lay low afterwards can change... so what should I do, seek work with the Triads, with the pawnshop owner, or with the Russians?
>And what kind of melee weapon does Almas Laine employ? A trench knife? A machete? An axe? What? (Specific items work better than general suggestions)

>-Last job is for some Russians that struck me as wannabe-KGB. Not sure just what SPECIFICALLY they represent, but they are willing to pay me $3,000 US to MISS someone. Seriously, all they want is a bullet to impact near some university professor-imagine they want to scare him.

Awesome. Take it. DOn't use the rifle, it will work against you.

Voting for the Russian job. One shot off-the-mark and away you go, minimal effort, no kill required, and plenty of time to GTFO from the scene if there isn't a far-away rooftop handy to begin with. Not the best pay but also less chance of getting caught by authorities and no pissing off criminal organizations.

As for melee weaponry, kukri would be good.

Trench shovel. One of those fancy chinese jobs.

>>297517
>-First possible job is for the Triads. That drug runner the other day was a friend of theirs, so they are willing to give me a go on his recommendation. For five hours work as a guard, they offer $4,500 US.
I like this one. Sure, guard work is inherently more difficult than assassination- but it's possible that nothing will happen, and it's a chance to build up some contacts by working with people. Plus building a rep as something more than just an assassin would be nice, however good we are at killing things with skill and efficiency.

>-Last job is for some Russians that struck me as wannabe-KGB. Not sure just what SPECIFICALLY they represent, but they are willing to pay me $3,000 US to MISS someone. Seriously, all they want is a bullet to impact near some university professor-imagine they want to scare him.
This would be my second choice, just because it sounds like easy money. Absurdly easy money, really, enough to make me paranoid, but hey, whatever.

Go for something simple. Like an entrenching tool. Collapsible, durable, and sharp.

>>297523
fuck yeah
>>297517
Take the two triad jobs. Guarding job first, while you're there ask someone if they have a grenade. We turn on the gas stove and use it to blow the guy's apartment to all hell.
Also get gloves, fingerprints are a bitch. And a hoody, dont want people seeing our face.

>>297520
Seconding this, since I like the idea of waiting a bit to piss off any criminal groups, and because Gun is recommending a weapon that can't even destroy a city... yet. Has to be a reason for that.

Gunbro!BHdwV/W3s. 2011/04/18(Mon)09:20 No. 297583 ID: 77a890
File 130314365065.jpg - (23.85KB , 594x344 , bayo.jpg )

>>297517
some of the finnish rifles had fighting knives with a loop/clip on the back as bayonets... perhaps ours was modified to take something like that?

also I vote for the triads job, simply because our rifle will auto-fail the russian job for us.

 

I was going to add another vote onto the Russian job wagon, but >>297583 makes a good point. We may as well do the Triad related jobs. At least they don't sound like they will require us to fight against our own equipment. The first is preferable over the second though, making enemies with large crime syndicates isn't worth a couple thousand dollars extra.

Hm weapons, I like the idea of playing to our cultural roots. It seems like we may be able to develop our weapons to acquire odd little powers if we used the right mystical reagents, starting with a weapon that's closely tied to ones blood seems like a good place to begin. I propose we get a mere pounamu. It's a traditional Maori club made from jade or greenstone. It's a close range striking weapon made for jabbing and thrusting, and due to it's composition it's suited for axe like attacks as opposed to other meres which could break if used like that. If you were skilled enough you could actually used a twisting motion to open someone's skull up with it. The best part is that you can conceal this thing, it's relatively small and it won't set off any metal detectors. You can keep it hidden under the sleeve and wrapped around the arm using the wrist cord. Check out this video of a Maori using a pair in a ceremonial dance.

Suggestion 2011/04/18(Mon)11:09 No. 297595 ID: 0fb2ef
File 130315014957.jpg - (44.28KB , 500x326 , greenstone-patu.jpg )

Hand-to-hand weapon? Go with your Maori history and get a Mere. It’s a short, stabby club-like weapon that breaks ribs and brains.

And yeah, go with the KGB job. And if we’re really that big of sissies and think that the gun will be too accurate, ask the Russkie if he wants us to use a special gun to shoot and miss with. After that, Triads. Bring up the bum, when meeting with them, if possible.

>>297583
voting for this. wee seem to be more influenced by our finnish ancestry, so lets go with some sweet finnish knives.
Also, go for the russian job. KGB bastards are hilarious. Also we don't know our rifle will auto-kill, for all we know it could just improve accuracy towards whatever we want it to, or will it to, rather then just going for the kill

Seconding the bayonet. Go for the Russian job if you know your rifle won't work against you, otherwise go for guard duty.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/18(Mon)22:36 No. 297701 ID: a76809
File 130319140159.jpg - (234.40KB , 700x700 , Companion on Triad Job.jpg )

>>297609
[No, it is a to-hit bonus exclusively for wounding/killing shots-it will actively make it HARDER to purposefully miss barring aiming to wound someone ELSE other than the one you are attempting to miss.]

>>297583
>>297609
>>297611
Now, as to what I stick people with-well, I happen to have a hard-mounted six inch bayonet, and between my mother and her relatives, I picked up a good enough feel for how to fight with a Taiaha that I can more or less use this rifle a bit... special. When I grip it like most would to club people, I don't hold a club-and I don't hold just a spear. I hold a long-handled mace, a spear and a staff, all in one, a vicious, brutal weapon with a method of use to suite. So far, have not had instance to demonstrate this particular facet of my combat options in Istanbul yet-Taiahan Rifleplay. Which really just goes to show I'm finally getting good at shooting. One thing and another, I think I can live up to Keihäs' prior kill count (including the girl who's head splattered on this stock before it was ever a stock) of 56. Since acquisition, four and counting.

>>297585
>>297595
What I have been using, as the Maori angle has to be played up one way or another, is a Maori weapon-actually a specific Maori's weapon, my mother's father's mere pounamu, a thick and heavy jade machete as long as my forearm, a green as dark as twilight, edge carefully honed. While I haven't learned much of my maternal grandfather, what little I did learn, combined with my talks with Arkvad, leads me to believe I could have the makings of another unreal weapon-I figure spilling blood, human and supernatural, will do the trick if anything can, so I've been liberal in it's use.

This combined with my gunplay means that even with such a new entry to the area, I AM starting to hit my stride with jobs.

>>297519
>>297520
>>297525
>>297572
>>297609
>>297611
I decide to double dip-I give the maybe-KGB a confirmation, before accepting with the Triads, packing away Keihäs in a repurposed scuffed brown guitar case, and departing for work. Night, young, all that.

About two hours through the job I notice a few things:
-At six foot four amongst a bunch of chinese gangsters, I feel like a titan
-The oft-bloodstained light wood stock of Keihäs has definitely drawn a great deal of attention as time passed and eyes wandered.
-The Triads move an impressive collection that seems to have several thousand kilograms of cocaine as a small auxiliary along with the main delivery-something I don't recognize, some sort of faint yellow-green, musky fluid in tiny vials.
-They have their own private dock at the port, and at LEAST two heavy-duty cargo ships are involved in their operation here, as well as a massive three-story warehouse. And yet beyond the workers, I am one of only twenty guards.
-Beside myself, one other irregular marks the Triad guard forces-a black frenchman who goes by the name Paul-Jacques Labombard. He's got about two inches and fifteen, twenty pounds on me-beyond the dozen massive cargo pockets on his urban camo gear, he has a total of six pistols strapped to his chest in a particularly complicated dual-triple-stacked shoulder harness.
-I note him to carry three pairs of Colt 1911's in this overly complicated rig-which he informs me, on noting my inspection, have been tooled to take the .50GI cartridge, before going on to say he'll take them over Desert Eagles any day.
-At hour three, something happens.

First, we hear screams-which tips off Labombard and the Triads, so I take the cue and ready Keihäs. Labombard starts trotting off into the night a few seconds later, but no one seems to mind, so I do nothing, keeping my eyes peeled...

When I finally see them, darting from box to box... I can hardly believe it.

Clad in rags and shredded, stained clothes, often unshod and bare of foot, a massive vagrant population mewls and ululates as it scrabbles closer like a horde of titanic roaches.

I hear gunfire as the Triads give the order, my shot the fifth to ring out-

And the first to bite flesh, puncturing the sternum and sending the waif toppling as I chamber a new round.... four left...

As I expected, by the time I've pulled off five shots (three more deaths to tack on my rifle's score) the remaining vagrants-some three dozen, I figure-have largely closed the distance.

I heft Keihäs like an immenselve long-handled knife as I withdraw my grandfather's mere pounamu.

It takes the vagrants watching five of their rabid, desperate number falling to me like rotting fruit tumbling to the groud as I brutalize my way through-but their charge falters.

The Triad gunfire resurges, and they break-

A few escape, it's true. But weak and emaciated-and on closer inspection, clearly suffering withdrawal-they were no real threat. When Labombard returns dragging a tarp with what looks like five US Navy Seals on its top, things become only a bit clearer-no, not really, I have no damn idea what is going on here. A mass horde of rabid addicts attack and they act like it's no big thing? military aquatic operatives? This shipment's importance just got bumped up my mental scale-so why am I here? I mean, good recommendation or no, why would such a new face be that close? Need to spend a moment pondering this-later.

The remaining two hours pass without incident, I get my pay, and leave. I make my way back home, carefully doing a perimeter check of my place before entering, and clean up my Maori knife and my Finnish rifle, slowly removing the blood and gore from the night's work. Then, sleep, blissful and prolonged-with how lightly I sleep that meant not even a floorboard creaked that night.

II wake up to meet with the Russian contact twelve blocks away in a cafe around ten am. We make like it's a pleasant day, we are friends chatting-he pushes me a picture of the target, a thin-necked, wire-bearded, egg-headed, coke-bottle glasses type. When he picks up the check and leaves, he 'forgets' his notepad, wherein I find more details on the target and his location. Like they said, a teacher, but....The 'university' he works at? Not all that mundane-in face, a place that looks to mix the very limited magical capacity some special people have with science, become more evolved or some such bullshit. Sounds like new age horsepiss, more like-the problem is a name circled in red Sharpy several times over: Khubilai

ENCOUNTERED: THE MONGOLIAN WIZARD DORJPALAM KHUBILIAI, LEADER OF THE IMMORTAL MONGOL HORDE

Now, he does not TEACH at this school-in fact, he is rarely present more than one day in two months at the facility-but all the same, it is his. Gelrindo Academics is a fully enclosed facility with guards and identity checks at all entrances, with the general public only allowed in while classes are occuring-and my target would be up in his fifth-floor, over-enrolled class, too public to target. How to get at him in transit between classes, in the chaos of individual conflicting paths.....





How should I approach this?
>[Designate whether a throwaway gun should be purchased (if so, name the cheap gun desired), or which of Almos Laine's firearms should be used for the near-miss shooting, from what distance, how, etc. and roll a d100 with the proposed plan for shot accuracy. A bad roll does not invalidate a great plan unless exceptionally atrocious.]

>Wizard

>Scare him

USE A THROWAWAY. THe most nondescript, loud, messy peice of shit you can POSSIBLY find. That Rifle will only get you in DEEP shit, with how unique it is. Get something common - something normal. Use normal ammo. shoot from a place anyone would shoot from.

ENDEAVOR FOR GENERIC.

I don't know how scrying works, but fuuuuck.

>>297703

rolled 32 = 32

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>>297704

rolled 79 = 79

---

I say we get a good 150 meters away from where we're going to take the shot. Load our judge pistols with 000 buck and fire at him. he'll hear the bang and hear the lead hit stuff around him. On the one in a thousand chance we actually hit him, it's just going to leave a bad bruise at that range. Otherwise, just take any .22 magnum with a compensator (if we need specifics, then the ruger 10/22 in .22 magnum). Compensator reduces recoil while increasing volume. The volume of an m16 with the killing power of a BB gun if we get the right distance.

>>297713
I actual like this plan. Buckshot or loud-as-hell and weak-as-water seems like the best idea for now.

Anyway, we should tell the Triads about someone wanting their bum informant dead.

rolled 96 = 96

---

>>297701
Go buy a civilian Kalashnikov or SKS, whichever's cheaper. Get the shortest barrel possible, and remove any muzzle brakes that come with it. Mount a visible laser sight, this will help frighten him and prevent accidents. Also get a scope, do not use the one from your Mosin. Buy several dozen rounds of ammo. Scout out the area, find a place where you can easily get him alone. Next time he passes through that place, turn on your laser. Make it look like you're some amateur assassin. Fire your first shot within a few inches of his head. He'll get spooked. Quickly fire off the rest of the magazine at him while he's running to cover. If he doesn't run to cover, drop the gun and get the hell out of there.

rolled 54, 38 = 92

---

Guys, great plans, but all have one problem: How do we get -into- the compound, and out, what with security systems and shit? I say, go with the throwaway gun deal, but try and make it so you're bringing it in disassembled, hidden, not in some duffle bag. Once you're in in class times, the only time it's open to the public, try to find a place to hide... The restrooms, a maintainence area, behind a dumpster or something... Hell. Maybe take an entire day just to scout out the place and see what the security is like. You're gonna have to catch him as he heads from the classrooms to the teacher dorms after class ends, so make sure you at least know the path between them so you can catch him on it. Last part is going to be escaping from the mess once panic breaks out, you're going to have to find a good place to hide the throwaway gun, maybe duck taped to the bottom of a dumpster or something. Point is, this shit is complicated.

However, there's another idea if security is too tight, simpler, safer... If a harder shot. He find a tall building we can snipe into campus from. We'll probably have to use Keihas or another rifle for the shot (And if we use Keihas, aim to wound or kill somebody near our target so it doesn't try to 'correct' our aim to kill him). It'd be a lot easier to get out since we wouldn't be in the middle of the panic, and there'd be no record or footage or witnesses of us in the campus, so I might maybe prefer this.

(First roll is for sneaking through the campus and shooting him on it, second is for sniping.)

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/19(Tue)22:25 No. 297883 ID: a76809
File 130327714786.jpg - (428.20KB , 1991x600 , SKS for the job.jpg )

Okay... plans here.

>>297703
>>297704
[PLANNED SHOT: 034/100]
I could try for hiding in plain sight-get some generic, loud, flashy piece of crap gun, use it as a throwaway for the purposefull miss. Has the bonus of just about guaranteeing the target knows he was almost killed, which is the mission parameter. The plan carries a few extra issues, however. How do I get past the full body pat-downs at the only gates to the enclosed facility? How do I stay outside of visiting hours given I know the place has enough guard staff to support regular patrols? ...I'll put it on the burner for now, too many issues to be workable. I continue shuffling through the dossier before me, looking for avenues of attack as I continue to swig at my mead-thank god for honest Norwegian style dining, but I have to wonder if there was any meaning to a russian maybe-spy to meet me here-all while simply continuing to think. Biggest lesson I learned as a Ranger-or I guess my own most standout thing-was how to look at a problem, REALLY look at it, and give yourself time to come up with the next best thing to the perfect plan.

>>297713
>>297741
[PLANNED SHOT: 079/100]
...Well, the university isn't THAT big, really-just four hundred meters across. I could find plenty of places to discretely hide in the open walkways, so heavily forested in an attempt at atmosphere. But, say, 000 buck at that range-SOMETHING will get through, sure-but at most the guy gets bruised, mission accomplished. I could be far enough away to not be spotted, find a place no camera covers-and escape in the confusion. I could, say, lob the gun over the wall before hand in some momentary footage gap as the camera's turn about, and claim it afterward. ...Of course, this relies on me finding a way to insure no camera covers the gun's landing and insure it does not land in some restricted area I can't access. This would take a considerable amount of time-but, given that, seems reasonably safe and sure. If I can't come up with anything better.... Something tugs at the back of my brain as I start shuffling papers again, starting my own tab with another of the pub-brewed mead and an order of stew-what can I say, I like hearty breakfasts and lunches, not dinners.

>>297744
[PLANNED SHOT: 096/100]
-Different approach: Don't even enter the compound. Stop worrying about how to deal with security guards, cameras, checkpoints, any of it. Shoot from outside. First problem is gun-Finnish Mosin Nagant's are relatively rare-the M28/30 more so than some of the others. What's worse, a supernatural gun fired onto the grounds of a Wizard? No idea what could happen, but I doubt it good. Solution's simple-the cash in my pocket from the Triads-

-Who I call in a quick realization, informing them of the pawnshop offering to kill one of their informants-I give a description of the 'Bum' the Pawnshop owner described. It takes all of three minutes for me to be talking to an aged voice that commands respect and authority that was referenced reverentially by the prior speaker. I end up having to repeat my story-and am asked how I knew the man was an informant. I retell the tale, well-practiced at resolutely maintaining story cohesion, and admit a combination of past experience with how informants were viewed from the outside, and a lucky intuitive leap. After a pause that makes me start to seriously consider moving in case I managed to piss off a local crime lord this fast-when I hear a chuckle, and am told that 'for making an old man laugh, I'll let you ask something for the information you provided. Unwilling to risk further at this point, my leap of faith having snowballed far faster than I expected, I hedge my bets and ask that they not reveal where they got the information just provided. Another pause, this one even longer-this time a speculative murmur, before I am told my request is acceptable-and that he would keep his eye on me with interest before hanging up.

[TRIAD CONNECTION OPENED]

As I put down my phone and chug the mead before me, wiping sweat from my brow, I shift my gears back into the problem at hand. ...Can't use Keihäs, but shooting from outside during a passing period, a break in class when he'd be exposed is too good to pass up. So, with a total of $5,217 to my name, I have this month's rent covered and room aplenty for a cheap rifle-and compelled by my own quirky tastes, of all cheap rifle options, I settle on the SKS. Mosin Nagant, SKS.... next a Kalashnikov, and I'll be on my way to a directed collection. I finish my stew in a hurry, hardly stopping to enjoy it, pay and leave, considering which contact would be best. I decide on a man that goes by 'Garbage Pete' who sells assorted weapons out of a dumpster. I am not kidding. Two hours and $350 dollars later, I have a hodgepodge SKS with polish, romanian and yugoslavian parts all mixed-all set on a Soviet Honor Guard stock, the white wood worn yet distinctive. I doubt Pete really knew what he had-but either way, I pick up a crate of 7.62x39mm for the franken-rifle, and head off.

FUNDS: $000,004,767

I spend an hour and a half looking about-and coming to some grim conclusions. The walls are too high, the angles too wrong for any shot below a sixth floor position to have a chance.

>>297874
[PLANNED SHOT 054/100, 038/100]
So clearly, I need a perch on some rooftop if I don't want to be noticed. Near some noisy ventilation systems would be perfect to obscure the sound of the SKS-so, at two PM, with classes only to continue for so much longer today, I set out, seeking a suitable perch up above.

It's 3:31 when I am finally situated atop a computing firm's roof-having gotten in with my patented hardhat/jumpsuit/tool-bag/clipboard, asking after 'A wiring issue' The receptionists buzzed me in, I used the stairs, cut the roof's locks after noting the considerable dust up near the top few steps, about as smooth as it realistically gets. I open the 'tool bag' and reassemble my newly purchased firearm.

It's 3:45 when class gets out-and the target starts wandering.

This is when I flick on my remounted laser-dot scope on frankenrifle, and oh-so-carefully walk the tiny dot out to dance about on the target's chest. It takes him five seconds to notice-

FIRST SHOT
(34+4) 38%
The first bullet goes a bit too wide, instead of chipping wood it embeds in dirt, hardly making any impact at all.
SECOND SHOT
(79+7) 88%
The second bullet tugs at his jacket's hem passing his midsection before chipping the stone pathway behind him.
THIRD SHOT
(96+9) 105%
The third shot nocks his glasses from his head, shattered bits of glass flying about his face as the bullet breaks the rim of an ornate fountain before stopping-the passing students only now starting to look about in confusion as my target begins to panic-time to wrap this up.
>[Moving toward new trait]
FOURTH AND FIFTH SHOT
(54+7) 61% (38+8) 46%
My last two shots aren't my best-mental state disturbed by the surprisingly good shot, maybe-but they don't need to be-with him frazzled and already having been brushed by bullets twice, having watched the red dot roving, the paired cracks from the stone pavement before him, sharp clamor to bring him back to his senses, the target seems to realize what is happening-before running through the crowd, pushing students aside or away without concern or hesitation as he flees.






So, should I keep shooting at him, or pack up and go?
What am I going to tell my Russian contact?
Once I have the money, do I want to actively start seeking another job, or use some of my funds to pursue self-improvement or some new equipment?

Let's get the FUCK out of here. Be calm, though: Act like NOTHING happened involving you. Leave the scene calmly, as if you did nothing, and people will generally think the same.

You were supposed to miss the target. You missed the HELL out of his ass. Thus, boogie time, but keep it casual. And conceal that gun, strip it down and pocket the pieces, whatever, just do it before you leave.

Beautiful. He's panicking, and people only vaguely know that something is wrong. Pack up and go, shooting more isn't going to make him more scared than he already is, all it could do is hurt or kill students wandering around, and that will just bring down heat on your head without any gain. This has gone about as good you could get, so leave. Tell the maybe KGB the target seemed sufficiently 'impressed' by your shooting, collect your money, and go. Destroy the franken-rifle as completely as possible and ditch whatever remains are left down the deepest darkest hole you can find, we don't want the bullets and gun magically traced back to you, what with wizards and stuff.

As for what to do next... Hmm... I say go for self-improvement with the cash. We're pretty good for guns, as we arn't about to go hunting supernatural nasties, and we probably can't get our hands on military-spec stuff like frags and flashbangs, so focus on working out or something, we've done what jobs we've taken pretty well, and may be starting to get into the good graces of the Triads, so we'll likely be getting more jobs soon enough.

>>297890
What? Hell no. Franken-Rifle is cool, it's a start of our collection, and with that collection of parts I want to have it looked at by anyone we know who can identify magical powers. Söderström, I'm thinking. We can ask about the Mere when we chat, too.

Anyway, pack away the Franken-Rifle just like you brought it in. Leave, calmly, and tell the receptionist, or whoever it is that you talked to when you came in, that the wiring checks out. Question: how did we cut the roof’s locks? But, we should try and learn lock picking so we don’t have to cut locks again.
Then, go to the WannaKGB and tell him the job is done.

Supplemental entry:
Two jobs in the bag, time to go quiet for a bit and let things calm down before hitting the field again.

Do some running to work on your speed, find an underground fight club to brawl in and thus further improve your close-combat skill and general endurance, do some target practice with conventional firearms to work on your unenhanced accuracy. All viable improvement options.

Equipment-wise, see if your new KGBuddies can get an S-40 suppressor for your Mosin (and goddamn are those hard to find any info on, sheesh), plus for closer work, either a Nagant M1985 revolver with a suppressor (and bullets, of course) or preferably an OTs-38 Stechkin and some SP-4 ammo to go with it.

>>297930
Do we really want to go stealth yet? Two Taurus Raging Judge that we can get some Dragon Breath in are gonna be enders in close combat, so do we really need to get a very nice silence pistol?

Suggestion 2011/04/20(Wed)10:04 No. 297933 ID: 28e94e
File 130331906993.jpg - (392.48KB , 1600x1061 , L-35.jpg )

>>297930
only one choice

>>297931
Flexibility is never a bad thing.

>>297935
True. Maybe we could find silencers for our shotguns?

I for one say we ditch the sks. If we need a semi auto, let's get an svt-40. Uses the same cartridges as our mosin and also feeds from stripper clips, so we only need to worry about one kind of ammo. If we want a silenced weapon, let's get something already threaded. we don't want to ruin our mosin by tapping threads in the barrel.

I vote either a silenced nagant revolver or a VSS for overpriced 9mm goodness.

as for what to do right now, I say leave the sks there or deploy the bayonet and throw it off the roof. Get out of here as quick ass possible, then lay low for a few days before moving on to another mission.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/20(Wed)19:14 No. 297979 ID: a76809
File 130335207580.jpg - (16.72KB , 740x187 , SVT 40.jpg )

[Rooftop lock was cut with bolt cutters.]

>>297884
I stay still, keeping my heart rate down as I move away from the edge and the fans, waiting for my hearing to come back.

>>297889
>>297890
>>297966
Well, I'd call that a mission accomplished. I busy myself unloading and disassembling the SKS frankenrifle, packing it away in my toolbag-all the while eyeing the door-everything seems fine still. So, I slip back into my handy-man demeanor and head back inside. I work my way down several flights of stairs before finding a doorway I can't hear anything on the other side of. I open the door like I belong, cap tilted and head down as I proceed along the empty hallway-and like with every floor, the elevator's just to the right of the stairs. I call the only unnoccupied of the five different options, board and ride solo to the first floor entrance, thinking of my next step long before arrival.

The doors open to the normal bustle, no screaming mobs worried about gunners-the vents did their job and seemed to drown everything out, excellent. I check in at the front desk, the same receptionist smiling in recognition.

>"Yes, can I help you again?"
"Turns out the issue was a whole lot simpler than they thought-already fixed, so heading on to my next job."
>"Excellent-have a nice day, bye now!"

Just like that, I walk outside, none save my target aware I was just firing a rifle minutes ago. I stroll along my way, a man unconcerned with heavy issues, slipping into the mannerisms I built for my 'Chuck' persona as I weave my way several miles distance from the scene-before ducking into an alleyway. I start dumping the dissassembled parts of the SKS, Societ Honor Guard stock and all, into the assortment of garbage bins available only after assuring myself the earlier cleaning I gave each piece was sufficient to remove my fingerprints. Then I start pulling the padding material of the tool bag out, and change.

Ten minutes later I'm back in street-casual clothes, jeans boots and a t-shirt with the inside-out tool bag now appearing a workout duffel bag, hardhat and toolbelt stowed away. Ditching the rifle saved up space, and only NOW do I start making my way back to the cafe, calling the Russian contact number-

>"Da, we know why you are calling-the job is satisfactory. Meet at the same place-we shall be waiting."

Straightforward-always liked that. Plus one for the Ruskies. It takes me somewhere around an hour to get back to the little eatery-might as well read the sign's name this time... huh, 'Pitstop to Valhalla'.... why'd they put it in English?

I am distracted by the man in a suit with a popped collar, hat and aviator shades-more specifically, the fat wad I see before him. He sees my approach-and tips his head at the packet. I swipe it as I walk by him, on my way to the bar, where I spend an hour or so just mulling over what I just did. Yes, I have killed people before, seen freakish things before-and yes, I even enjoy the thought of killing someone on one level or another-but committing major felonies? For some reason this is leaving a sour taste in my mouth, and I have to admit I'm not sure why-I've never held the law in particularly high regard....

Too distracting. I call Söderström, addressing an entirely different concern in the back of my mind.

"Hey Arkvad, how are you?"
>"Quite well my fine friend's son-I am somewhat busy at the moment, so could you clarify if this is business or otherwise? I am on the clock, as it were."
"Well, it might. Let me rephrase-I intend to do business with you, but have some questions first to clarify the sort of business."
>That should be quite acceptable for my higher-ups. So, what can I do for you?"
"First, a question about the less mundane side of rifles-and it does not concern Keihäs."
>"I trust you are calling from a secure location?"

Woops.

"I am."
>"Good-so?"
"Well, I had this SKS made from all sorts of different parts...." I tell him about the two of five shots far better than they should be, both too accurate given the range for the rifle used, one of the shots absolutely ludicrous in precision. He asks a few very minor questions, and without revealing the nature of what I was doing he seems to nevertheless find the data he needs.
>"To be perfectly frank I can't be sure, but my gut tells me that was indeed a supernatural weapon on some level. I would suspect the stock to have been the source-woods take magic more easily than metal, and given it was from the Soviet Honor Guard model, it was likely some particular Russian soldier that unwittingly gave it power over several years. Couldn't go farther without seeing it, but given how you described it, it sounded like some goal-orientation augment. Might be worth a fair amount even as a part."

I decide to make a trip back to my weapon stowage sight-I forgot to check if I left footprints on the ground-and on reflection I did not wide down the garbage lid edges, so I may have left viable fingerprints..I tune back to Söderström just as I realize leaving the stock there may make me look like I know nothing of the supernatural to some of my potential pursuers.

"-n point of fact. Well the next question-or was the 'business' next?"
"I was wondering if you could lay hands on an SVT-40-specifically one of the sniper variants. I'm looking for one with some history to it-and if that history is felt in a way the gun could be machined to fix it's first shot accuracy issues, or said history addresses it, that would be great."
>...A specific order. As it happens I know of an SVT fanatic in Turkey-I've bartered with him before-and I know that while HE doesn't know much of the supernatural, he nevertheless has pieces so inclined. Actually.... how much are you willing to drop for this gun?"
"Let's say no more than two-I mean if they guy doesn't know-"
>"Perhaps I did not make myself clear-he is OBSESSIVE about collecting them, and will not part company with them for a trifle, especially the rarer ones."
"Even so it was a fairly widely made rifle, it shouldn't cost THAT much-"
>No but if I do not add the appropriate mark-up acting as Holland & Holland's middleman to this transaction, then the deal, quite simply, cannot happen."
"Fine-four, surely you can squeeze a commission out of that."
>Not as much as my bosses would like, but for you-fine. I'll call you back in a few minutes."

Without further fanfare, Söderström hangs up, and I am left to finish my last remnants of mead before I pay my tab, and head back out, thankful no rowdy events could occur to give away my location to Söderström. ...Note to self-any time I am calling about magic stuff to Söderström, call from a secure location.

I make it nine blocks on the way back to the weapon stash point before my phone rings again.

"Almas? Are you alone?"
"A moment.... yes?"
"I have found something largely like your request-in fact, a bit TOO much like your request."
"Explain."
>...I am mandated to add markups based on the nature of the enchantment, and I was able to procure one I had identified before-specifically, an SVT 40 sniper variant that was reworked into a functioning AVT 40 , complete with one twenty round clip. A prior owner has also re-machined a great many parts-recently, within the last decade as I understand it, the prior owner, and the first-shot accuracy issues, the barrel shifting, the scope's poor mounting-all of it has been maximally resolved."
"So a heavily customized rifle that had exactly what I asked for and more on top, AND has a trick worth an extra markup-so, what can this AVT-40 Sniper rifle do, then?"
>"I don't know the story yet of where it came from-but it matches with previously seen magic-you start a clip on full automatic, all bullets will be compelled to attempt to follow the first shot, and can shift a few degrees in trajectory per hundred feet or so."
"...Where is the magic held?"
>"Stock and cartridge both."
"...So..."
>"Twenty five thousand."
"Are you joking?"
>I told you the price had to go up."
"....Hm."
>"Yes?"
"What could be knocked off for that rifle's stock-the SKS honor guard stock?"
>"...Hold on... HAH, I can classify that as a 'presumed magic acquisition with an informed seller'-I can knock ten off the price for that-but I can't get it any lower, even for you kid."
"...Okay, let's talk payment options."
>"Oh come on Almas-"
"Look, as asininely false as it sounds, I have some rather big jobs coming my way shortly-and this moment, I could cover at least a third-but I'll need a couple weeks-"
>"Let me be clear here-I can stall the order for two weeks, 14 days exactly, and not incur any issues. This, I can do for you. But if you say two weeks and mean a month or more, no rifle will be waiting for you-I will be required to attempt a sale, and know several others who would buy this."
"Since I'll have the money before two weeks is up, I don't mind.:"
>"Then I look forward to your call-perhaps by then I shall have more on the history of this... AVT 40 Sniper, as you named it."
"Until later."

I hang up and walk the last few blocks to the garbage bins, confirm there was no moisture or muck to leave footprints in, and claim the stock before wiping down each garbage lid to be sure my prints are absent. My bag only minorly bulked out by the extra object, I decide to catch a city bus-twenty minutes later I am back at my apartment. The handyman disguise kit goes back into my closet, and I add the 3 grand to my safe.

FUNDS: $000,007,767

After packing away every possible suspicious item (except my mere pounamu) and once more changing, this time sporting a canvas jacket, I hit the phonebook, check online, and set out for a jog. I reach an established MMA gym with some decent reputation in the area-Constanz' Crash Course, what a name....

I get some introductions, and meet some people my gut tells me could lead me to underground fighting-if I was a student and spent a few days getting pally with them. Then again, might not pan out, and enrolling costs money, so I'd need to do even more work to get up my funds...

Well, my plans seem to have changed quite a bit since that talk with Arkvad. I call the Triad contact number, learning they have no work available for me at the moment-but am told I will now be called the very next time they have a job they could use me on. I call the russian contact number-which has been disconnected, wonderful. So I resort to spending the night putting out feelers, looking for jobs, and sleep on it.

Morning rolls around and I check my mail-only one job response.

-A Mr. Angiluzzo Castelletti, who owns a bar chain based here in Istanbul, wants a shooter-he wants a Mr. Barby and three associates of his killed. He notes that while all four will be armed, all will be together, and in a place away from public attention. Coupled with their criminal association, my only worry is killing them, he says-and he offers a cool $10,000 for my trouble.


Hm......


What should I do?



Should I accept Mr. Castelletti's job offer?
As I wait for more jobs offers to come in, what should I do with my time-or should I keep looking for jobs to expedite the process?
Should I join Constanz' Crash Course gym, in the hopes of getting in touch with some underground fighting rings? (Membership increases monthly living expenses from $2,000 to $2,250)

No on the Gym.

YES on the job. Man, that would almost take care of the cost of the gun all on its own. Find a nice sniping location, pop pop pop.

Hrmm... Guy's name sounds italian. Maybe mafia? Well, seems pretty simple... Might be able to snipe them as well, and lucky us, we get to use Keihas. I say take the job. And scout out the meeting location too, try to find good spot to be shooting from, we've got time to prepare and no reason not to do so.

...'course... Ok, they're offering us 10k for killing for guys, but some pawnshop owner offered us 8k to kill some bum? That sounds wrong... Sounds like bad juju, price is too high for the job, might be magic shit involved in this. And bad thing is, we TOLD THE TRIADS, so the pawnshop owner might figure out we ratted on him, get mad... And for all we know it's a damn magic shop. Ah, fuck.

Ok... We just gotta move on here I think, nothing to do about it now except be careful. I suppose join the gym, yeah, if it doesn't pan out, oh well, it's not like it costs a -ton- of money.

Check into Castelletti's marks if nothing else, make sure they're not associated with any large groups if you can get some history on the guys. Also might be worth getting a month's membership to the club, isn't that much of a loss if it doesn't pan out.

>>297979
The Castelletti job sounds good, pick it up and get the details of their location. I'd be more comfortable ironing out a plan when we know where these guys are holed up. Until then let's sign up for that gym and try to work our way into the underground. Even if we can't we'll be able to stay fit and try to improve our hand to hand abilities by taking classes. Aside from that we could try to hit the local library, maybe do some digging around to find nearby locations where particularly grisly events have occurred and try to collect materials to create weapons. Either that or see if there are any holy relics lying about local places of worship, maybe we can nick one.

>>297996
>Stealing from the Church

No.

>>297996
>Stealing from the Church

YES!

>>298004
Yes, unless the church in this setting is as absurdly powerful as you seem to think it is and they can track our every move and thought. I didn't even specifically mention the christian church either, any place of worship would do. A mosque, synagogue, or Hindu temple would probably just as likely have what we need. I'm thinking we either find some small things like very old rosaries or a page pointer from a torah, that or a little shaving from something large that no one will notice, like some iron shavings from an old church bell.

If we're thinking of weapons, let's go get a few swords.

Durendal, Curtana, and Joyeuse, to be exact. Then we forge them into a gun. Stock of Joyeuse, Barrel of Durendal, and trigger of Curtana.

>>297996
I like this idea


I think we should accept the offer from Castelletti, and go check out the location first. Make sure we can find a good, concealed position and research to make sure none of the people we're shooting at are wizards or supersoldiers or something.

Also, does keihas have a scope? if we're using the iron sights I'd be curious to experiment with the range. The sights should go out to 35 arshins (like 2.5 kilometers) and I'd like to know if this thing's bloodlust will make it accurate to some stupid distance.

>>298009
Vatican Vault. That is why we don’t screw with The Church.
Personally, I would suggest not screwing with any religious organization – they’re some of the oldest groups, would likely be the best around to deal with supernatural threats, and would likely not look favorable to thieves. If we deal with churches, we should go and ask if they need any ‘help’ and see if we can get any old artifacts.

Other then that, yes we need to check up on these guys we’re being paid to kill. If they’re related to the Triads or the WannaKGB, I suggest we contact them about it. I really don’t want to play one side against the other, at least not yet. And, as a mercenary, we can cultivate the fact that we don’t fuck around with ex-employees and that we are not just loyal to the next big check.

As for the Gym and other self-upgrades, I say go with the Gym. It doesn’t matter if we actually get into an underground fight, just training is good. Keeps you on your toes, and lets you work on something that you hope a fight should degrade into – a fist fight. Other then the Gym, I suggest practicing lock picking, some stamina training, and some practicing firing. I’m worried about using bolt cutters, and cutting the lock coming back to us.

>>297979
Take the job. It's fairly easy and it gives you enough money to afford the gun.

>>297996
Stealing from a church will draw way too much attention. We do NOT want any religious organizations on our ass. No.

> Should I join Constanz' Crash Course gym, in the hopes of getting in touch with some underground fighting rings?
Plyometrics can be good for your reflexes and fast-twitch muscle groups: all the better for running away if some supernatural beastie gets within arms' reach of you. Good for the quick-draw, too, not that I expect to be doing pistols at 20 paces with anybody.

I say go for it.

>Stealing from the Church
How much of the legends are true? If we run into something from the Other side, do they have specific weaknesses, such as holy relics? Never hurts to be prepared, and all that.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/21(Thu)23:14 No. 298196 ID: a76809
File 130345286174.jpg - (192.35KB , 1024x685 , Target Special Armament Mateba Model 6 Unica Autor.jpg )

>>297980
The gym.... the thought of losing money with no guaranteed returns is enough to put me off the idea-while I find the offered job sounding pretty doable. A secure location to snipe from, Keihäs in hand with the scope re-attached (and the laser deactivated, obviously)-this job could be very simple indeed-if I put the time in to make it so.

>>297991
Ten grand for four very likely well-armed criminals-versus eight for offing a bum. Why? The numbers just don't fit right to me-so I get to pondering. Why would the bum be worth so much, Triad informant or no? The eight couldn't ALL be to cover the likely backlash one might feel from the Triads if identified in the act-and the rumors I have heard of this Pawnshop owner, the originator of that job, are not at all 'good'. He is not so much respected as viewed as a danger that must be catered to-which sounds suspiciously like something unnatural, to be simultaneously viewed as threat and irremovable feature of the area. Could very well be from the Other side of things-which means the fact I told the Triads could still come back to bite me a lot harder than it normally could.

>[Progress made towards new trait]

...Maybe I should join the gym, wouldn't hurt to get more fit if I put in a few hours a day to keep myself as fit as possible-tuning myself as I do my arsenal. A lesson I remember well.

>>297992
>>297996
>>298015
I go with my gut and take the Castelleti job, and ten minutes afterwards I am given a street address, a location to meet and discuss the job. I put on my heavier leather jacket only after strapping on both of my holdout rigs, each Judge secured and fully loaded. Keihäs goes in the faux-guitar case carrier, and away I go.

On my walk to the meet I consider where I might find easy access to baseline magical materials-I know how to carve wood, I can field strip and re-assemble most firearms and ready access to a multitude of parts and gunsmiths. First thought that comes to mind is churches-or more broadly 'religiously associated sites and buildings.' Stolen crucifixes, the aged copy of the Torah, the wood of a carving of Odin-all sorts of things could be most useful.

>>298004
-But stealing from churches?

>>298008
>>298009
I mean yeah I could take really minor things-shavings from a church bell, pointers from holy books, a collection of prayer beads... I could probably avoid just about any notice, not even let on that theft is happening by spreading myself widely over multiple faiths and taking so little......

>>298048
>>298049
But really there is still way too much I do not know, including which legends concerning religious followings are true, or have some glimmer therein. The Vatican Vaults-the involved Dieties-too many ways that could go very wrong-not to mention my public image if I am witnessed-I can't imagine most anyone would care to do business with someone that steals from churches. ...Eh, for now, seems like that might not be the best idea.

I reach the meeting point-surprise surprise, an Italian restaurant-one of Mr. Castelletti's, big surprise. I case the place walking its perimeter at a distance... yep, DEFINITELY a crime outlet-so my suspicion Mr. Castelletti is an officer in the Mafia seems just about guaranteed accurate. The place has twenty guys in suits just standing-not sipping drinks, or having a meal-just standing, patrolling, being active. Sure they talk with the diners-but all the diners seem quite well known, leading me to believe many of their number could be members as well. Well, a job's a job, and ten grand is most certainly ten grand.

So I walk into the joint, am rather quickly accosted by six guys all around my size-

>"Nah, leave it, I think he's fine-ain't that right, Al?"
...A New Yorker's accent? I look past the withdrawing would-be foes to an overweight man in a white suit, florid olive skin offset by a darkly colored, open-collared Hawaiian shirt. A mildly receding hairline is faced with gusto, hair still relentlessly oiled and slicked back. The bordering on obese man is seated at a table that quickly vacates-three lobsters before him, one nearly finished. He beckons to me, and I walk in.

>"Why don't you have a seat."

I glance around, and do the only logical thing-I have a seat.

>"Now, I just want to start by saying that we let ya keep your guns, not so much as a sign of trust, but a sign that we assume you to not be stupid. More guns than you have hands are trained on your head right now, so, eh, no funny moves, alright? Heh, well, since you ain't dumb, I'll get to the point. Mr. Barby-he's a fuck that has tied up my opening of three more branches, reports me to public census-really, a little shit that don't know when to stop. Now see, if I or my friends here go after him, boo hoo we have a turf war, more people get involved, more people die-not good for either side, and my own bosses won't be too happy either. So I'd like to avoid that."
"This being where I come in."
>"At least you can follow along. Okay, so Mr. Barby himself? Met him severat times, he's no kung fu yahoo or some gun expert-just expect competency and frailty together and you've pretty much nailed him. His number two-[i]"

On the heels of a picture of a wizened old man I presume to be Mr. Barby, a grainer photo is offered of a sharp-jawed man with muttonchops and wire-rimmed shades.

>"[i]Goes by O'Connor-think like one of those personal assistants, an assistant manager and a bodyguard all rolled into one. Was in the IRA, real good with explosives and shotguns. Has a bum right knee, so he can't turn or scoot his butt that fast. The other two-"

A pair of photographs are offered together-and at first I think them duplicates. Both are burly, blond-haired ruffians.

>"These chucklefucks here are Lachlan and Tyson, two Australians that are really just there to be muscle. Each one carries a machete and sure as shit knows how to use it-and both happen to love Italian weaponry. And being twins, between the two of them they pack four Matebas-"
"Specifically the Mateba Model 6 Unica Autorevolver?"
>"...Hn, know your guns don't ya kid? Well then a tip-they go for .454 Casull rounds and are damn good shots-"
"They mount scopes on their pistols?"
>"Yup. Both of them, actually-one pistol gets a nightvison scope, one a thermal."
"Assholes-definitely going to shoot them first-you aren't going to make some claim on their guns, right? I could definitely go for some Matebas, especially with the company gone."
>"Heh-all right kid, loot to your heart's content there-I just need all four gone, capische?"
"How will you know when the job is done?"
>"I get updates on that fuck Barby every few hours-I'll know shortly when he's offed."
"Is there a timeframe I must operate under in this job?"
>Nah, just the general 'sooner the better'."
"You have dossiers on the targets?"
>"I don't-Joey there by the door does. You can pick them up on your way out. Mostly just an address and general times he goes where, that sort of thing."

Mr. Castelletti starts to wave me away and stops, an eyebrow quirking as he wipes his lips, takes a hearty swallow of wine, and eyeballs my guitar case. A slow grin spreads over his face as the seconds pass.

>"...Okay, another point in your favor. Be interested to see how you settle in here Al-I imagine I could use a guy like you if you don't get yourself killed, eh? Alright, now scram."

I get up and go, collecting the thin mannilla envelope on my way out-and find myself returning to the Pitstop to Valhalla, happy to once more sample its mead as I pour over the documents. Spend most of their time in a seedy pub that isn't off any major streets, have to go down an alleyway to access it, two story building with a single basement level. Always travel together outside the bar. Know all bar patrons and are suspicious of outsiders. Bar itself is unconnected to any criminal organization, and is run by someone who keeps his head down. Hmm......




What am I looking for here:
-A way I can make an extreme range, sniping oriented kill (Hardest shot, lose looting options, lowest personal risk)? If so what kind of plans am I looking to make?
-A way to take them out at mid range, from across a street or some such (Looting is possible but time consuming, increased personal risk, medium difficulty shot)? If so how would I want to set up such an exchange?
-An up-close ambush type event where I try to take them down as fast as possible (Easiest looting, easiest shot, highest personal risk)? If so how would I want to approach it?
>Whichever option is picked, roll a 1d100 for every plan you propose.

rolled 93, 59 = 152

---

If we can get those matebas from the bodies and sell them we've basically doubled the earning from this mission. OTOH, getting up close and greedy could get us killed. If we can find a grenade or even a flashbang (maybe tear gas + mask) then we could try the up close fight for easy looting, otherwise let's keep our distance and keep it clean with a long range shot.

First roll is for finding grenades, second is for actual plan execution (same roll for range and close up depending on if we get nades)

rolled 71 = 71

---

>>298199
Oh hells yes.

rolled 79, 19, 88, 67 = 253

---

You work best at midrange - distance. I want those fucking handguns. We need a midrange - closing - melee weapon, AND THOSE SCOPES, holy fuck, thermal and night vision?

Needless to say, off Barby first, then the blondes. If we're lucky, you'll get Mr. Thermal first. Strike during the bright day so ONE of the scopes is useless.

Last is O'connor, who has sadly chosen a weapon that favours closer ranges while having a bum knee. He is last because of this - but DO NOT discount the fact that he may not use simple shot. Shotguns are awesome in that way - lots of different shit you can stuff in those tubes.

You'll want, for the BEST possible scenario:

1: middle of the day.

2: a concealed firing location that is hard to reach.

3: distant enough to force them to move before they shoot.

4: an escape route.

Remember these things as you check the dossier.

1d100 for each part of the plan.

rolled 10 = 10

---

The .454 Casull is a kind of heavy-duty magnum round, isn't it? Those plus machetes does not make me want to get up close with these guys.

Mid-range is my preference. The alleyway seems the best place to take them, no need to shoot up a perfectly good bar. Find a good place to shoot from, a rooftop or second story, maybe a fire escape. I'm leaning towards the roof looking down at the alley, if there's a fire escape handy. Decent cover, and a quick way to get down there and snag the loot if things go well.

People so rarely look up.

First bullet is for the target. If we have to, we can bug out after that. As much as I want those guns, they're the bonus. The 10k and the rep with Castelletti is the main thing.

Still, if it looks like they don't pick us out immediately, try to take them down with accurate rifle fire.

rolled 54 = 54

---

oh, idea. If we attack mid day as was said, the night vision scopes are garbage. Depending on how warm it gets, if we wait for a hot day and put a blanket over ourselves we can hide from the infrared once we set in for a while. Works for peasants fighting apache helicopters in iraq, should work against some gangsters.

(rolling to see if the thermals can track us if we do long range shooting with this idea)

rolled 55 = 55

---

>>298196
Now just think how much easier this would be if we hadn't disposed of that SKS

Anyway, the easiest way to do this is to take out the two bodyguards from some nearby concealment. Use the blanket trick mentioned earlier, or just stand near a bunch of ventilation ducts. Don't worry about the night scope, as long as you stay in your cover you shouldn't be spotted. Once those two are dead, locate the third bodyguard and make sure he won't be a problem (if you don't know where he is, don't attack or there's a good chance you'll be ambushed). Once the final bodyguard is neutralized, take your new sidearm and blow his brains out.

rolled 39 = 39

---

Eh, given everyone else this isn't going to happen, but I say we set-up in the alley. Get some baggy rags, soak them in a bit of cheap alcohol and stain them up a bit. Dress up as a bum, set-up next to a dumpster in the alley, tape Keihäs behind the dumpster when no-ones looking, keep the guitar-case open and filled with a little cash and coins, and then when they pass by and have their backs to us, take out Keihäs and shoot them.

rolled 91 = 91

---

Eh, given everyone else this isn't going to happen, but I say we set-up in the alley. Get some baggy rags, soak them in a bit of cheap alcohol and stain them up a bit. Dress up as a bum, set-up next to a dumpster in the alley, tape Keihäs behind the dumpster when no-ones looking, keep the guitar-case open and filled with a little cash and coins, and then when they pass by and have their backs to us, take out Keihäs and shoot them.

rolled 33, 98, 12 = 143

---

Just a thought, but do you have any police contacts? We could shoot from the farthest, and have our police contact wrap up the weapons and money they have for ‘a grieving relative’ – i.e. us.

That said, I want to go over the connections that Mr. Barby has to the underground – possibly talk to the Triads over this. Mostly find out what the fallout will be when we kill him, and just how did he get an IRA member as his number two?

Rolls: Getting contact that can loot for us, hopefully police contact. Taking the farthest shot. Finding out about Mr. Barby’s history and what killing him will do.

rolled 72 = 72

---

>>298244
Funny thing, I was thinking about something like this myself. However mine was more along the line of acting like a passed-out hobo with a case of cheap beer close at hand, with a few empties spilled and scattered about. Wait for targets to emerge and take a flashbang out of the beer case (provided one can be obtained), toss it at their backs and then make drunken shouting to make sure they're looking in the stun grenade's direction (making sure to keep our own eyes covered of course), and then when it pops they'll be primed for a bit of point-blank Judge-ment, heh.

>>298245
Eh, be careful of doing this, it might give the Triads or somebody else dirt on us. And just in case, if we're doing close-middling range, wear a balaclava just in case one guy sees us and escapes, we're pretty recognizable.

>>298243
>>298244
>>298251
Seconding this plan.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/22(Fri)21:52 No. 298464 ID: a76809
File 130353437644.jpg - (11.16KB , 451x175 , Extra Loot AA-12.jpg )

>>298199
>>298208
[PLANNED SHOT 093/100, 059/100, 071/100]

The Matebas... expensive pieces, those. ...In point of fact if I am reading this report correctly, these two sport excessively modified ones at that. I start putting together reports of use and projected analysis, combining the guesswork in the reports with my knowledge of firearms, and come up with my own list of highly probably modifications to these Italian hunting pistols.

-There is either some sort of spring loaded plate that pushes forward, or the cylinder is repositioned in firing, or some such, for somehow the chamber is sealing air-tight at the time of firing. ...Aha, multiple reports noting the cylinder's front to be angled-something vaguely like the Nagant M1895's system, if I'm not off the mark.
-Considerable bodywork to the barrels has allowed suppressors to be coupled to the guns for markedly reduced muzzle flash and audibility of shot-between these two modifications the massive autorevolvers become far more viable in an urban setting.
-The recoil rail systems for the Mateba's look different from stock ones, but I can't put my finger on why-ah, it seems Mr. Castelletti's analyst figured it out-they have been modified to allow a marginally larger recoil range along the system.
-The grips have been completely retooled, now far closer in appearance to modern rubber grips with contours to guide each finger's position for maximum grip. While there are wood panels, most of the grip is vulcanized rubber, designed to absorb more shock.
-The autorevolution system itself has been modified in some manner to allow a higher rate of fire-all six shots can be spent in something under a second-the reports don't give an exact range, but still.

....So to sum it up, thanks to extensive alterations that represent years of work by experts at their craft and a considerable investment on the parts of their owners (and this being for ALL FOUR guns, mind you), they are effectively silenced assault rifles with a small clip.

With modifications like what I'm reading, I'd figure each gun to be worth around twelve, thirteen thousand dollars, including base price and all the changes-with a potential sale price in the realm of six to eight thousand dollars, if my gut's leading me the right way on this. And that's not even accounting for multi-thousand dollar scopes that need the most rugged mounting system to not get shaken loose on that shifting barrel. ...I could get a pretty penny for those-

And I could also get killed by them.

...O'connor and Mr. Barby are not noted to have any particularly noteworthy firearms in use, both noted to alternate what they use periodically-unlike the twins. Well, only four excessively lethal weapons to worry about then-wonderful. Well, my approach to this is somewhat limited if I want to claim those guns-which I VERY much so desire. Sniping is out of the question-so how do I make sure that I can shoot all four people before they can shoot at me in a close to mid-range gunfight?

Surprise, obviously.

First thought is flashbangs. ...Garbage Pete won't have that, he's only got old guns..... but Bagatur Yilmaz happens to sell explosives-and 'explosives related materials', such as flash-bangs. I call him-ten minutes later I'm pushing open his front door.

So nice to have a local munitions dealer-who would have thought Istanbul could be so accomodating?

>"So! Is wanting not-kill grenade, one that blinds, yes?"
"..Yes, I do want Flash-bangs."
>"How many?"
"I only need one-"
>"Sold in multiples of three."
"Three it is."
>"Five hundred."

I pay it, get my trio of purchases, and am on my way. I don't negotiate with Bagatur-I don't even attempt it. Thought no longer crosses my mind, really. Unlike most, he sets a price-and you either pay it or get the hell out. The fact he sets fairly reasonable prices keeps me coming back-

That and I have no other contacts yet beside Garbage Pete and Mr. Söderström, but hell if I'll ever tell him that.

The trio stowed in my guitar case, I consider what else I could work into my building plan besides 'throw a flashbang, ambush and hope I kill them all first'. Hm.....

>>298212
[PLANNED SHOT 079/100]
Well, there's the obvious 'attack during the day' to make half those scopes completely useless, just on the off-chance I DON'T drop them all before they get their bearings. Beyond that, as to an actual change to the plan-I need a concealed firing location, even with the flashbang-make what was just a probable ambush into a damn-near certainty. Now, how could I be hidden, stay in throwing range for a flash-bang, and get, say, a good shot from their flanks or back or summat at conflict outset?

>>298213
[PLANNED SHOT 010/100]
I could shoot from above-who looks up? ....Ah, but I have to drop the Flash Bang straight down-it wouldn't be hard to figure where it came from. And getting down a clunky fire escape to get at the loot....Okay, idea doesn't work.
[PLAN SCRATCH]
...How about-

>>298216
[054/100]
Middle of the day-could be reasonably warm. If I throw a blanket or mat over myself, I could, given some time, just blend into the surroundings even to the thermal scopes-would make me rather exceptionally hard to find with a good hiding place.

>>298230
[Plan doesn't work as the quartet does not seperate.]

>>298243
>>298244
[PLANNED SHOT (39+91)/2=065/100]
...Maybe I'm over thinking this. I have a way to drape myself in a blanket, stay so close I could hear them talk, and STILL not be noticed. Dumpsters along the alleyway-I could get some rags, soak them in cheap booze, and prop open my guitar case with some spare change in it-just blend in as one of the street's many bums. Wait for them to pass by, lob the flash-bang over their heads, and shoot them at close range in the back while they are blinded and dazed.

>>298245
>Contact roll: 038 FAIL
>Long range plan unviable
>Info roll: 012

I shuffle through the papers, looking for clues as to why someone described as unconnected would have such well-armed bodyguards as the Australians. I see no trave of them owing him a debt, or fanatical followers or any such thing. I am left with a mystery.

>>298251
>>298380
[PLANNED SHOT 072/100]
...No, leaving a guitar case open attracts attention-where is my guitar? Why does a bum have a decent-condition guitar case? If I am to reek of booze, may as well leave some empty bottles around myself and fake a drunken stupor. Further lowers chances people will pay attention to me-I could even hide the flashbangs in an six-pack.

Just as I return home from Bagatur's, I find my plan no longer lacking, and begin to gather the rest of my supplies-already knowing the mission will have to happen tomorrow. I need to assemble an appropriate disguise and find an acceptable blanket for my use, I need to ingrain my plan in my mind so I can stay rigidly adherant through the chaos of the flash-bang, can make what changes are necessary on the fly. I sleep soundly thanks to my military days after hours of planning.

I rise early, choosing to bring my guitar case without any weapons within-just my hobo disguise and assorted accessories to my coming job. I plan to do this all with my two Judges-which I decide to reload, taking out the normal shells to replace them with ten of my fifty currently owned 16-gauge sabot shells. Just in case they have particularly thick clothing that could turn aside shot. I mount both rigs on my arms, and dress in an old jacket and torn jeans, taking my guitar case with me as I head out. I slowly make my way to the locale Mr. Barby is known to frequent, and after identifying a closed alleyway, change into my alternative attire. Now appearing a drink-addled vagrant, I stumble my way down the alleyway leading towards my targets, getting as far from the street as I can without getting flat out against the recessed pub. I stash my guitar case (now mostly empty) behind a dumpster, settle myself in-

And wait.


I continue to act insensate as periodic passersby coming to and leaving from the pub eye me, but none make any comments.
Three hours in, more than an hour shy of noon, I see the targets approaching. The Australians take up the rear, heads constantly shifting as they scan their surroundings, hands held at the ready to leap into action. O'Connor has a heavy duffle bag to offset his bad leg and is accomplishing a decent bit of ambulation despite the rolling gait to the left of the smallest of the group. Five seven, if that, Mr. Barby hardly looks imposing at all-but the smile on his face is as off-putting as anything I've ever seen.

I let my eyes drop as they approach, doing naught but murmuring slurred jibberish as they pass by-

The moment their backs are to me and I'm out of their peripherals, I grab one of the Flash Bangs and prime it, lobbing it over their heads. The timing memorized, I turn away with my eyes swuinting shut the instant before that immense wall of sound and light descends over everything-and as I hear the screams I surge into motion, arms rising as I lash my head back around, triggering each holdout to come jutting out of my sleeves as I aim at the screaming, blinded quartet.

FIRST SHOT
(93+11)100%
I fire with my right hand first, the rigid steel frame absorbing and dispersing a considerable amount of the recoil as the sabot round tears off the upper half of one of the Australian's head, his body toppling forward in boneless spasms. ...Fine shot or no, all the same I feel it could have been something... more.

SECOND SHOT
(59+11)70%
My left hand's first shot hits the opposed twin in the upper back, spinning him around as it blows a bloody hole through his shoulder-even as I see his good hand sprinting for one of the Matebas.

THIRD SHOT
(71+0)71%
The second round from my left hand smashes through his upper chest, entering one side to exit the other. While I probably did not hit his heart, the explosion of gore I see is nevertheless fatal, now both Australians falling in death even as the deafened and blinded remaining duo struggle to get their bearings.

FOURTH SHOT
(79+6)85%
The second sabot slug from my right judge blasts a gory hole through O'Connor's upper leg-think I got the femoral artery-even as his hands dive into the heavy bag he carries-and start pulling forth an AA-fucking-12. A goddamn automatic shotgun-

That is turning to face me even in his fall, even through the pain and blasted senses.

FIFTH SHOT
(54+9)63%
The third slug from my left gun darts forth, coring out a third of O'conner's upper arm-and his grip on the rising AA-12 sags as he falls to the ground impotent, already bleeding out.

SIXTH SHOT
(65+10)75%
My third bullet from the right Judge is the first I send whizzing Mr. Barby's way-and it catches him in the gut, doubling him over as he drops the pistol he had hastily drawn.

SEVENTH SHOT
(72+12)84%
I finish things off with one final bullet from my right hand's Judge, crowning Mr. Darby's head and leaving a gory mess. The last of the four bodies drops to the ground.

>[TRAIT REVEALED: AMBUSH EXPERT-Almas can perform at peak capacity during the initial few seconds of an ambush and will not hesitate or stall during this time period unless forced to do so.]

I hear the shouts and thunder of feet inside the pub-I moved fast, and the light likely impaired them-but I might have some VERY considerable complications soon. I stuff the AA-12 and the four customized Mateba's into my guitar case-and I leg it down one of the branching alleyways before the front doors open-

Immediately slowing back to a faux-drunken stroll as I reach the street again. I use the crossing lane, duck down a different alleyway and quickly change back into my street clothes, using the blanket and costume as padding to keep my trophies from rattling about. As I step back out onto the street I see dozens of men in suits with hands kept firmly in their pockets looking about with ferver and desperation-I think they're looking for the shooter. ..What the hell, twelve dudes that I can see more than a block away looking for the shooter? Castelletti said this guy was a no-name!







So what's my next move here?
>DECISION: KEEP OR SELL: MATEBA X4, THERMAL SCOPE X2, NIGHTVISION SCOPE X2 AND AA-12

rolled 27, 16 = 43

---

well I don't want to be THAT guy.... but if we can get frag-12 rounds for our AA 12, we have an automatic grenade launcher to two hundred meters...


I don't think we really need the matebas as our judges are pretty darn good, but the optics on them might come in handy.

as for right now, if we can spot a way out of the situation, like a subway or fire escape or even just a good alley out of here and need to get around some guys, we could hurl a flashbang as far as we can in another direction to make a distraction. Otherwise, it's just a matter of not drawing attention and opening up with that AA 12 if we do get forced in a bad spot.

the rolls are for the distraction/cheesing it and the second is if we need to shoot our way out.

rolled 94 = 94

---

Sell all but one of the Matebas, we've got both a sniper rifle and holdout weapons. We could use one for a more concealable sniping weapon though.

Sell one of each of the sights we can reuse them later.

>>298466
Keep the shotty for Gunbro's dastardly schemes.
>we have an automatic grenade launcher to two hundred meters...
I believe you mean THREE hundred meters.

Duck back into the alley and look for another way out.

>>298470
meh. three hundred, two hundred, it's all the same when it's exploding anyway, nevermind the range if we just ignore the sights and use it like a retarded mortar. If we can get those cartridges I can't wait to see the pants-shitting we can induce.

One of each scope, one of the FINE custom guns.
Sell the rest of the customs, keep the shotty.

Remember: You want variety with guns, not a huge amount of the same. I mean, what good is three different rifles if they each have similar ranges/caliber/etc, in the face of, say, a handgun, a shotgun, and a rifle?

Anyway, Well-done. Make it known you're UNSTOPPABLE during an ambush. Most people you kill barely even know what the fuck is going on before they're dead.

In that vein, we'll want to go with guns and loadouts that suit this capacity - buy another trio of flashbangs, keep the customs on you, see about customizing the shotty for mid-closerange awesomeness.

Furthermore, purchasing that Maaa~gic rifle is now a hell of a lot more possible, and more of a good idea.

So, the question is, was Barby into something a little more interesting than we were told and Castelletti was unaware (in other words, an unfortunate oversight) or are we just a disposable throw-away hitman to Castelletti? I'm leaning to the second option, which pisses me off.

But what can you do? We need Castelletti more than he needs us, and the more we impress him, the less likely he'll be to throw us away. Doesn't mean we should trust him if he says the sky is blue, though. Next job we take for him, we research the hell out of the mark, time permitting.

Sell the matebas, keep a night scope and thermal scope for our rifle. Those can come in useful.

Incidentally, when we go back to Castelletti, keep a flashbang up your sleeve in case there was something a little more sinister involved and he actually sent you to die.

Keep at least a pair of the revolvers, one of each scope, and the AA-12.

Also it's probably just a business thing instead of any personal issue. Send a new guy out, figure he'll probably knock out one or two marks before getting taken down. We didn't take any payment up front so there's no loss for Castelletti either way, and probably that much less that needs to be paid to the pro that's likely on retainer to finish the job. Just an efficient use of disposable resources, nothing more.

Keep one Mateba, one of each scope and the shotgun.

Also, reload your holdouts. I've got a bad feeling about this.

Ok, guys, whatever we sell, WAIT to sell it, obviously these guys are (were) connected, and if their guns turn up on the market, they're going to investigate, and trace it back to us, which is bad.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/23(Sat)12:34 No. 298586 ID: a76809
File 130358724894.jpg - (30.29KB , 569x204 , Would be assailant.jpg )

>>298466
I stay shrouded in the alleyways, doing what I can to look casual, simply one taking a breather against a wall, rather than a furtive hider to draw the eye. I discretely sniff at my shirt and jacket-neither carries an overt scent of alcohol, hopefully I should be fine. Thank god I didn't get wounded in the ambush-that would make acting unconnected a whole lot harder. A further bonus is that since I performed the ambush so close to their hideout, the flashbang likely obscured my form from proper identification-I think all they know is that there was a killer, not who. It is quite doubtful they could have seen my face-

But seeing the guitar case I stuffed the guns in and legged it with? THAT they could probably see.

I push the aforementioned guitar case farther behind me, obscuring its profile with my own body as I watch and think.

-Too many guys in suits running about to even think of going up a fire escape-the only one I see is near the main street, and I'd likely draw every eye present if I tried to scale it.
-The subway access for this six block area is right on the main street-and already covered by five suits. Great, they know the basics of doing an urban manhunt. This is just going to make this so fun.
-I've seen at least forty dudes passing by this alleyway in the last five minutes-all going the same way, more or less. Best guess is they're moving to set up a cordon to try and catch me.
-The few panicked civilians at the flashbang and following bout of gunfire seem to have calmed down-but I note several people still looking quite concerned by the abruptly perceived bit of violence.
-I do not yet hear any sirens, any indication policing forces are en route.

...Alleyways it is, then.

I watch for a moment more, and move only when none of the suits are looking my way, grabbing my semi-concealed guitar case and ambling back, ducking down another, even less well-maintained passageway as I keep moving in the general 'away' direction.

>>298470
I pick up my pace once I'm sure I can't be seen from the main streets, eyes darting around for possible avenues of escape-no fire escapes I can access, a bunch of locked back doors, some dumpsters, sewer grates-for now I keep moving, ears perked as I hear the sounds of traffic resurging. I should be reaching the far side of the block shortly.

>>298475
As I hit streetside, surreptitiously glancing about and noticing far fewer suits darting about than before, I take advantage of the changing light and join the crowd crossing the street, staying near the middle of the pack and hunching as much as is necessary to not stick out. The crowd begins to disperse on crossing, and I pass through the confusion into the nearest alleyway, once more setting out to traverse a city block without getting near the streets. As I do, I ponder.

....So, the response I was met with does not at all match what I was told to expect. Mr. Barby was a Name-no other way he had that well-equipped of body guards, that many people gunning for his killer. That leaves me with an either-or scenario: Either Castelletti somehow did not know (which does not seem likely, given how connected he appears to be) or Castelletti purposefully did not tell me. ...Latter seems more likely.

I turn another alley corner as I shift mental gears.

Okay, so he knew and didn't tell me-why? First thought is that he viewed me as disposable-a new gun for hire, someone to throw at an opponent, maybe take down one or two of his guards before getting shot, and in general make a panic in Mr. Barby's camp. Assuming oneself to be operating from Mr. Castelletti's position, it's win-win: Rival gets crippled, has to redirect funds to face a threat that cost him nothing, since with the assassin dead he has no one he needs to pay. If I kill only a few and survive, I don't get paid as the job was for all four. In fact, only in the case I do end up offing all four could the possibility of me getting paid even crop up-something that is now looking very much like Castelletti was not expecting.

...Which could mean he isn't going to pay me at all, or may decide to off me both to avoid paying and tie up loose ends-with me dead and vanished, nothing would connect him to the shooting, and his faction would be well insulated from fallout. ....The fact I need the ten grand more than he needs to pay me is what makes me continue to ponder going back for pay.

I take a moment to prop open my guitar case and pop one of my two remaining flashbangs up my sleeve, hooking it on one of my holdout rigs. Well, just means I have to make our coming meeting suggest paying me is more costly than not. Stay calm, stay focused, keep moving.

I clip my case shut once more and sway to the side as I rock to my feet-

A blackjack slams into my shoulder, the weighted bludgeon not quite able to snap my collarbone as I sag down and tumble to my side, hand already going under my coat. As I turn mid-tumble, I see one of the suits opening his mouth, preparing to shout, likely intent on drawing the rest of his friends closer-

Or he was, until my abruptly planted hand on the ground shoves me back up, mere pounamu in my free hand, blunted tip crushing the fools windpipe. If he had been more focused on jumping me rather than switching trains of thought like that, maybe he wouldn't be slumping to the ground, gurgling as he suffocates. He starts reaching twitching fingers under his coat, questing for a firearm-my hand locks about his, and I stay there, holding down the dying man as I stare in his eyes, watchful for any other sign he could make a racket or be a threat. As the light fades and he breathes his last, I glance about, thinking what I should do next.

>>298550
...I knew I forgot something. I didn't pack any extra rounds for my holdouts-what a simple, stupid thing to do.

-I'm in an alleyway around two blocks away from where the shooting took place.
-I have a dead body that is not bleeding in my hands.
-I am still being chased by a great number of Mr. Barby's followers.
-I see the poorly fitted manhole cover jutting up behind me-my would-be subduer likely tripped on the exposed lip, adding to my sway to completely throw off his attack.
-I check my arm's range of motion, and seem to be fine.
-I am fairly certain the only clues the suits have to who killed their leader are that they have an old guitar case. With that out of my hands I think I could just stroll out of this section of town.




What's my next move?
>>298551
>[Stored: Intent to sell two Matebas, one of each scope, and to do so via Söderström to a contact in another country.]

See if the manhole has any potential as an escape route, or failing that, as a temporary stash for your guitar case.

Also, hide the body. Nearby dumpsters or trash cans are preferred.

> Body
Might want to take a moment to toss him into a dumpster or pile of refuse or whatever is convenient. No sense in leaving a trail of dead bodies.

> I am fairly certain the only clues the suits have to who killed their leader are that they have an old guitar case. With that out of my hands I think I could just stroll out of this section of town.
That works for me. Find a good hiding spot (not near the suit), ditch it, come back for it later. Hate to just leave 24 thousand or more in antiques laying in a back alley somewhere, but we don't want a firefight with a few dozen henchmen, either.

I don't like the idea of ditching our stuff. What I do like the idea of though is looking for a run-off sewer hole. Granted, with all the supernatural stuff that happens here, that might actually be a horrible idea, but with a little luck you should be able to use it to get just far enough away. Keep in mind the potential danger that might come with such a route though, and only get as far enough away as necessary.

>>298586
So body disposal seems simple enough, we can either drag it into a dumpster or take it with us down the manhole and hope that it leads to a sewer or a storm drain so the body gets dragged away by the flow. I don't know if our bayonet detaches or not, but if it doesn't I feel like we're missing out on an opportunity to power up our mere pounamu. I want to take a bit of skin off this guy and use it for our draw string, I get the feeling skin off people who died from the weapon is more potent than any old human skin.

>-I am fairly certain the only clues the suits have to who killed their leader are that they have an old guitar case. With that out of my hands I think I could just stroll out of this section of town.
Next time we pull the bum routine we're getting a shopping cart to hide our guitar case in.

Take the dead guy's gun because why the hell not, and you might need it anyway, and give him a brief pat-down for anything else he might have, wallet if nothing else. Now here's an option to consider, QUIETLY open up the manhole and dump the body into it, then pop the guitar case open, take your blanket-and-clothing-wrapped loot out and tuck it under your arm like a laundry bundle. Send the now-empty case down into the sewer with the corpse, then kick the manhole cover so it makes a clang and yell loudly about how some huge guy just killed another one and ducked down the hole with his victim. Act like a freaked civilian who just happened to witness a murder on the way to the laundromat and get out of the area once the goons go down to investigate.

>>298589
When dumping the body do what you can to leave no evidence that could lead back to you; fingerprints, hairs, fabrics.

Take his weapon, we might need it should shit hit the fan.

>>298596
This, but no yelling. Will probably get us killed. And we don't want to be walking around with a bundle of stuff so let's stash them somewhere outside of a store we might acquire a duffle bag or something of the like.

well, we could jump in the sewer and with the magic of our new NV optics we could navigate a couple of blocks over. that, or just push the body in the sewer, jump in, and hang around there for a few hours until things settle down. If some crazy beast shows up, we get to work on climbing back up while it goes for the easy meat.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/23(Sat)22:48 No. 298761 ID: a76809
File 130362409228.jpg - (482.02KB , 1600x1132 , Encounter with the Other Side-Sewer Monster.jpg )

>>298588
I check the manhole cover-I can get it open, thanks to the poor fitting, even lacking a crowbar. I haul the lid aside as I keep myself alert, focused on the environs, carefully wary of any other suits coming my way. If one found me in an alley....

>>298589
The guitar case is just going to make me a target-I may need to dump it, or at the very least stash it. Hands free of that, getting free and clear of this mess should be a cakewalk.

>>298591
I eye the sewer entrance-it's got to have networks running under the city, I could escape the unnofficial cordon, guitar case and all, by staying below ground-I could stash the body down there too, making it look like the killer (and the suit) just 'vanished', unless whoever's in charge of them actually thinks to check the sewers. The only prospective issue I see here-just about every modern bit of information, confirmed or otherwise, has cautioned that udnerworlds, sewers, abandoned subway systems, all are considered ideal hunting grounds for supernatural predators. If I go down, I'd have to be wary, if I hope to live.

>>298596
I take the goon's gun-a Glock 20, 10 millimeter with a full clip of fifteen-as I consider a way out of this-I could try a rope-a-dope, ditch the body down the manhole, leave the guitar case open and empty, make a clothes pile from the bum rags to hide my loot and abscond after calling out I saw a murder go down. If it worked, I'd send the goons on a false lead and slip away as the frightened tourist who saw something, free of any incriminating guitar case. I feel a bit leery of actively drawing attention to myself like that-there aren't that many six and a half foot tall half-Finnish half-Maori mutts around, and there's the risk my ruse would backfire and end with multiple hostiles drawn to my location.

>>298594
>>298599
>>298685
...I decide that while it's not my favorite option, the one with the least guaranteed risk is the one I'll follow-into the sewers I and the body shall go. I drop the body down the hole and plunk down after it, pulling the manhole cover shut over myself and my recently dead friend, the closing metal lid like the sun going out as we are plunged into a thick and heavy darkness. With the withdrawing curtain of light so to goes the din of the city-it becomes still and quiet, enough so my ears ring in the absence. After descending the stairs I pull out one of the Mateba's equipped with a night vision scope, and set to work. I claim the goon's wallet and keys-I then rip out the labels on his clothes, and check him over in the gloom, the only sound the gurgling water flowing only a few feet away. After assuring myself I didn't leave any of my hair on his body or clothes, I set to the more grisly part of the process. I use the Mere Pounamu and my Finnish bayonet, tucked into my boot, to break the wrists and ankles of the goon, and slowly saw through the intervening flesh. After removing his hands and feet entirely from his body, I break his teeth with the bayonet's but, before squating back, quiietly catching my breath, as I go over my mental checklist. Identification: removed. Possessions that could identify: removed or damaged. Fingerprints as a means of identification: removed. Dental records as a means of identification: Removed.

.... Sergeant Riker was rather thorough in his lessons of how to prepare bodies when operating quietly in enemy territory for sustained periods of time-no reason the grisly lessons won't serve me here as well.

I shove the body into the water, then carry the hands and feet under one arm as I navigate a few hundred feet upstream by nightvision scope before dumping them down a different waterway. Two different destinations-sure they could be found, but about twenty minute's work on my end would slow down forensics for days and jack up the cost of investigating. Given what I did should hoepfully make the body hard to find even for police, the goons above may never know more than that one of their guys went missing the day one of their upper-level guys and his guards were killed. ...Might be able to use that.

Finally sans body or bodyparts, I advance, Mateba in my left hand, held close to afford easier use of the scope to pierce the gloom, my right hand held out nearly straight, Glock firmly in hand. Across my back is slung my guitar case, the goon's keys and wallet joining the three other Matebas and the AA-12 in being buried amidst my bum disguise.

I've walked what I think is the equivalent of two blocks before the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise.

Beyond my soft footsteps, my quiet breathing, the soft gurgle of water-

I hear an oh-so-soft, whispering hiss as my body begins to warn of danger from behind. I continue on without showing any outward signs I've noticed my hunter as I thumb the glock's safety, check my grip on both guns and-

I drop to a knee as I spin about, both guns rising as I peer desperately through the scope, looking in the shadow for-

A monster of teeth and claws crouches low to the ground some fifteen feet away, easily seven feet long, reacting to the changing sounds I make by bracing itself, preparing to leap-

I have less than a second before at least three hundred pounds of clawed, fanged monster is on top of me-





What exactly should I do, given only the Mateba is silenced?
Specifically where should I attempt to shoot?
>[For each bullet fired I will need a 1d100 roll. Please specify which gun is being fired when rolling (Glock can be rolled for up to 15 times, Mateba up to 6)
Assuming the creature closes, how do I intend to defend myself?

rolled 95, 46, 5, 24, 80, 52, 97, 67 = 466

---

Shit shit shit shit shiiiiit.

It's a cave/sewer dweller - if you have those flashbangs, drop them first before the fight begins. They won't go off right away, but when they do, you should get some time. Once that is done, I suggest firing twice with the Glock - The flash might scare it or daze it. when it's closer, and you know you can hit it reasonably, open fire with the Mateba, as much as you can.

First 2: glock, last 6: Mateba

rolled 15 = 15

---

Hm, seems to be lacking eyes. Wonder what it hunts by. Scent, echolocation? Who knows.

I say aim one right down that giant open mouth. Angle upward if you can to hit the brain, but even a straight shot has a pretty decent chance of getting the spine. Use the mateba for this.

After that, well... just keep firing and hope like hell, I guess. Not much time for strategy.

rolled 67, 11, 18, 57, 97, 95 = 345

---

I say just the mateba. It's not exactly a lightweight

head, left chest, right chest, stomach, then two in the neck. should guarantee some vitals or a bleedout

if it refuses to go down then we can go to town with the glock, but then we may have friends waiting at manholes, and more creatures drawn here if we stay in place

rolled 1 = 1

---

[Rolling to see how many more of these beasties were in the pack]

>>298763
[PLANNED SHOT: 095/100, 046/100, 005/100, 024/100, 080/100, 052/100, 097/100, 067/100]

I start to squeeze the Glock's trigger, hoping the deafening gun will disorient the beast before I lay in with the Mateba-

>>298771
[PLANNED SHOT(Mateba): 005/100, 024/100, 080/100, 052/100, 097/100, 067/100]
[PLANNED SHOT (Mateba): 067/100, 011/100, 018/100, 057/100, 097/100, 095/100]
>[IDENTICAL PLANNED SHOT SYNCHRONIZATION BONUS]
[MODIFIED PLANNED SHOT: 067/100, 024/100, 080/100, 057/100, 097/100, 095/100]

>[TRAIT EMPLOYED: AMBUSH EXPERT]
>[SERENDIPITOUS SHOT TRIGGERED DURRING AN AMBUSH]

-I think better of it, my finger sliding off the Glock's trigger as instead-

FIRST SHOT
(67+10Serendipitous shot bonus)77%
With a paradoxical whispered thunder, the first 454 round blasts forth, ripping into the beasts head, carving out a quarter of its skull-only for the creature to refuse to keel over and die as most massive-head-injury victims do.

Fuck it-full autorevolution then.

I squeeze and hold down the Mateba's trigger even as the creature leaps.

SECOND SHOT
(24+10Serendipitous shot bonus)34%
Automatic revolvers being alien to my hands still, I'm not quite ready for the gun's recoil in rapid fire, and the second shot, aimed for the monster's upper left chest, goes wide, only peeling away a few layers of skin in passing as the next round moves into place and I tighten muscles to steady my grip.

THIRD SHOT
(80+10Serendipitous shot bonus)90%
My shot aimed at it's right breast does not stray more than an inch even given a moving target, and through the shuddering scope I glimpse blood flying in thick arcs from the heavy impact as the Mateba keeps going.

FOURTH SHOT
(57+10Serendipitous shot bonus)67%
The fourth round catches the leaping beast, five feet and closing, square in the gut-and I hear the crack of shattering bone as the casull round shatters a path through the beast's spine. What was still filled with rage and lethality moments ago, a hunter in motion now becomes a limp body tumbling through the air. I recognize the creature as finished at last-but not swiftly enough to stop the Mateba from completing its automatic discharge once initiated.

FIFTH SHOT AND SIXTH SHOT
(97+10Serendipitous shot bonus)100% (95+10Serendipitous shot bonus)100%

>Progress made towards new trait.
Seeing the fangs and claws as still being potential threats, I decide to set the body tumbling in a manner more advantageous to me-the revolver's barrel flits side to side with the last pair of shots, one to either side of the neck-

And the monster's head is quite literally blown off it's body, sending it's tumble into a backspin as I leap back from my crouch, avoiding being trapped under it's weight.

I swiftly check around me with the nightvision scope, noting no ladder to the surface in my immediate area-

As I spot a flash of movement through the scope even as I hear more of that unearthly hissing starting up.

Taking a risk I plop down the guitar case and switch out Matebas, the still fully loaded night-vision scoped one replacing the spent one in my left hand as I re-shoulder my case, back against the sewer wall as I consider-








What's my next move?
Do I try to stand my ground and put down the monsters, or do I risk trying to run for safety?
If retreating, should I run LEFT, RIGHT or STRAIGHT? (Right in theory continues to lead the most directly away from the Cordon area)

Right, but take the nearest manhole up. Keep an eye out for additional monsters.

Hmm... Hey, guys, you remember how Soderstrom mentioned how wood takes magic better than metal or such? ...Don't the Mateba's have wood plates in them? I was thinking... they had the Mateba's tooled up so much with 'Real' science, the grips swapped out, but they left the wood. So, I figure, they somehow knew about the supernatural, magic weapons, and how they're made, and so had their weapons 'tooled up' to be more receptive to enchantment as well.

...And... Only one left? ...Meh, stand and kill the little shit, don't take chances with it jumping you from behind. Then we can steal its teeth/claws or organs or some stuff to use or sell.

A one? Yeah, we're gonna stand and fight, then see if we can grab some fangs, maybe a couple small bones, and some of it's hide. We should probably see about rounding a corner first though, so we can catch it as it does the same. Unless it can pounce, land, and pounce in a different direction almost immediately, doing that should grant us at least a couple more seconds to put bullets into it, and from a better angle to boot.

Got a feeling that the one more there is probably bigger and more dangerous though. Either that or we aren't the only thing that's screwed up this pack recently. Both could be bad.

Guys.

Low rolls are bad.

RUN.

Time to move. Duck right and vamoose, hopefully these critters are also scavenger enough that they'll be occupied with eating the dead one instead of chasing your ass.

>>298815
>>298825

...

GTFO. Right now. And go straight, we're more likely to run into a ladder if we stay on one 'channel'. ...That or backtrack, where's the last ladder you saw?

...Ok. One last thing: The one beastie's head (Or what's left) has been blown off, yeah? I wonder if we could just quick grab that up as we flee. ...This is of course NOT a priority, if it gets in the way of shooting or climbing a ladder or anything ditch it.

And depending on how many we have after us... ...I'm not sure whether we should use a flashbang or not, because on the one hand while we might fuck up these guys while we hoof it, we might attract more attention, which is bad. ...Then again if low rolls are always really bloody bad for us, yeah, use the flashbang, short-term survival is more important than slightly-less-short-term survival.

I like the idea of getting the head or smashing out a couple of fangs for magic purposes. If we're SURE there's only one more of those things here, then let's slowly move on our previous path towards the nearest manhole. If there's more, then pull up the AA12. Keep a mateba in the right hand for shooting/seeing, and if the shit hits the fan we can just drop it and grab hold of the AA12 in our off-hand and spray towards the sound, nevermind that the muzzle blast will give brief illumination.

Riker: Soviet Kord machine gun base custom, chambers 12.7x108mm, 210 round box magazine, accurate standing braced for targeting specific body parts at five hundred meters, 15 Rounds Per Second


>>298825
>>298834
My back staying against the wall, I listen as intently as I can as my scope darts back and forth, revealing different patches of shadow to me-I see at least two prowling monsters approaching, and hear further hissing from a third direction-definitely time to go. The eyeless, slicked forms writhe after me, hissing in their pursuit, fanged maws opening wide-I don't even need to see them, my imagination doing the work for me.

>>298778
I take off down the right path, constantly on the lookout for anything resembling an exit-

Two hundred feet down the tunnel's turn I see it, iron runs leading skyward to a manhole. An exit.

I just need to run in the dark with only a tiny pinhole worth of visible area while being hunted by multiple freakish monsters, nothing to worry about.

...Riiiiight.

I open my mouth and breath slow, trying to keep my noise output down as far as possible-I listen to the approaching, slithering rustle, trying to roughly estimate relative ranges-I should reach the ladder before they close.

In my flight I only think I hear a rustle beside me. I flick the Mateba to my left almost as a an afterthought, a reflex acted on without thought-

To spot a trio of the slimy monsters pounding down a branch pathway, looking to flank me-thirty feet and closing.

I still have fifty feet to go for the ladder.

...Problem.

>>298840
....Okay, things hunt by sound and/or scent, right? I mean, barring some crazy magic senses, that seems the most likely-

So I flip back on the Glock's safety, stow it in my pocket and reach for the flashbang as the Mateba's scope bobs between each pursuing group. I prime it and lob it over my shoulder as I switch my focus entirely on the last bit of space between me and freedom, counting the seconds in my head.

..2...1..squeeze my eyes shut-

I can see the blood vessels starkly illuminated through my eyelids for a brief moment as even the din of the falshbang is drown out by yowling wails so filled with pain and anguish my own body aches sympathetically.

My eyes snap open as the light fades, I close the last six feet to the ladder, toss the Mateba in the guitar case and-

In the pitch dark of the sewers, with five monsters howling in pain and rage below me, with no weapon in hand, I ascend the ladder, hands questing for the manhole cover I have to remove. My heart's migrated halfway up my throat by the time my fingers brush the cold metal overhead. I heave the cover open-

The howls that had been waning with the fading light resurge as natural light spills down into the gloom.

I get more than a few odd looks climbing out of the sewer manhole, clearly not a construction worker-and now that I look at myself, my cuffs are spotted with rather visible blood.

On the plus side the street sign shows I've managed to get six blocks from where the shooting took place, and I don't see any suits running around.

So I close back up the manhole, shove my hands in my pockets and keep trudging my way back home.

After a shower, a shave and a change of clothes I look at my computer-I succeeded at the job I was given-and now have reason to believe I was expected to die in the job, and that it is very likely I will not get paid. Which leaves me wondering what my next move is-should I email the Castelletti contact and request a meet? I mean, it's not GUARANTEED he's going to try to fuck me over.......






So what should I do now?
What all should I be doing for wrapping up this Castelletti job? How do I try to ensure I do not get offed or stiffed on the bill for this job?
Once that's done, should I sit on the pair of Mateba's I planned to sell, or arrange to meet with Söderström so I can move them now? When I do call Söderströmwhat exactly should I tell him?
What plan am I going with for making sure I have enough funds to pick up the AVT-40 sniper rifle by the deadline less than two weeks from now?
Once those immediate issues have plans in place, what am I going to do with myself for the immediate foreseeable future? (remember cost of living is $2000 a month, includes rent utilities food everything)

rolled 11 = 11

---

First off...check the wallet you picked up from the dead guy. Might have some cash in it. Also check for bank/credit cards and identification, the former could be useful within a short window before they're cancelled, and the latter might be worth something to somebody in the fake ID business if you happen to know anyone in that line of 'work'.

Oh yeah, maybe see if you can match the keys to any particular brand of vehicle since car companies like to make their own weird little key-head shapes. Might be able to find the goon's car and get a few bucks for it at a chop shop.

>What all should I be doing for wrapping up this Castelletti job? How do I try to ensure I do not get offed or stiffed on the bill for this job?
We're supposed to try and prove we're worth more alive than dead right? Let's look around, try to find another one of his enemies and take them out pro bono. Come back with the book schmuck's head and see if we can't get some payment on our original job.

>Once that's done, should I sit on the pair of Mateba's I planned to sell, or arrange to meet with Söderström so I can move them now? When I do call Söderströmwhat exactly should I tell him?
Sell them off, we need the cash.

>What plan am I going with for making sure I have enough funds to pick up the AVT-40 sniper rifle by the deadline less than two weeks from now?
Look for another job, preferably ones where we can have enough time to research both our target and employers.

>Once those immediate issues have plans in place, what am I going to do with myself for the immediate foreseeable future? (remember cost of living is $2000 a month, includes rent utilities food everything)
I still like the idea of going to that gym and trying to work our way into the underground fights. If we're lucky the fights could end up paying for the price of the membership several times over and give us another source of income when jobs are slow.

>>298879
Pro-bono... Yeah, no, fuck that shit, fuck trusting, helping him. He -lied- to us about the job, even if he intended it as a 'test', that is a bad precedent, nearly got our ass killed. I say he was expecting us to die. We evaded a fucking manhunt, and had to do so by going through the goddamn -sewers-, and we are not going down there again if we can help it. (Get some weapon-mounted flashlights and flares, though, just in case.)

So, he probably has stuff ready to take care of us on the off chance we somehow didn't die. I say... Hmm... Ok, we obviously offed somebody important, Castelletti was trying to avoid a turf war by using a third party... Why not set up the turf war he wanted to avoid, get some tasty revenge? Don't contact him, let him think we died or were captured. Make a leadership kill on his faction, stir things up, then we leave town until the dust settles, they might even think we did die or something (Which would also mean the magic-shop dude we possibly pissed off might overlook us, a -good thing-). We go someplace else for a while (I dunno, uh, go explore our heritage and what it might mean for the supernatural?) and let the heat die down on what we've accomplished already. When we're done with that, we can return to town, or go to a different city, use our Triad contact to make things go smoother in either case.

...Hell, speaking of the Triad contact, I've got an idea, but it's got ups and downs: We bring them into this, they might enjoy stirring up hostilities between two other factions. Downside is, they would of course know our part in it, it might not go so well.

Last option... Just lay low for a bit, don't send out feelers or actively seek jobs with anyone other than the Triads, maybe take jobs as they come but try to keep a low profile, see if we can avoid attention while the 'heat' on us dies down. And of course don't accept any more jobs from that asshole Castelletti.

...Uh, hey, you -did- grab that Soviet Honor Guard rifle stock back, again, right? Anyway, for talking to our magic gun dealer, tell him you picked up two majorly tooled-up Mateba's with fancy scopes you wish to sell, also talk to him about the wood left in the handles, might signify they have capability to be enchanted. ...And call him from a secure location, duh.

>>298910
This is a little too drastic, i think. We should talk to Castelletti before we do anything drastic. Don't go in there looking for a fight, just be reasonable and ask for the pay. If shit goes down, get out of there alive and plan something awesome.
As to the matebas, I have a feeling those night vision scopes will be useful, so take one of them off before selling them. Hopefully we'll be able to stick it on something else.
>>298879
killing one of Castelletti's enemies pro bono does sound way too risky, and totally not worth the end result.

I can see arguments for and against dealing with Castelletti again.

Yes, he set us up. But we succeeded far beyond his expectations. We killed the target, and his bodyguards, escaped dozens of suits searching for us without a wound or even them seeing what we looked like.

That's talent Castelletti won't want to throw away.

Yeah, he's an asshole. We could just take our little 'bonus' (more than 16k in antique weaponry, wasn't it?) and vanish. He might not KNOW we survived, which means he wouldn't have to silence us for knowing he was behind it all.

But really, I say we should take the middle road and send him a little note: we succeeded, no one even saw us do it, and for him to send us the money, or put it in an account, or something. No hard feelings. But also no sense walking into a possible ambush by going into the restaraunt, and he should realize that just as we don't want him as an enemy, he doesn't want us as one, either.

Don't say it outright or anything but honestly, if we had to, I bet we could do to him what we did to Barby.

>>298920
No, -don't- physically go there. If we're going to contact Castelletti, do it over the phone.

Oh, and, uh, yeah, do some more research on the guys we just offed.

>>298921
>>298928
I agree 100%

Fuck Castelletti. The extra revolvers alone will give us anywhere from eighteen to twenty-one thousand dollars - that's enough to buy the rifle and live comfortably for several months! And that's not even touching the scopes or the shotgun (should we choose to keep it).

Indirect contact to report on the job, wait to sell two or three of the matebas for a bit, but do sell one each of the scopes. Also, keep the AA-12. If for some stupid reason we decide to report in person, buy some actual grenades first. No doing him any additional favors.

>What all should I be doing for wrapping up this Castelletti job? How do I try to ensure I do not get offed or stiffed on the bill for this job?
First, go back and hit the books. Find out just why Mr. Barby was such a big tough. Go through the dossier again, hit up the internet, talk to your few contacts. Now, what to do with this info: We could go with whoever Barby employed and have them take care of Castelletti or we could go in with the info we discover and go to Castelletti and look like an utter badass.

If we do go to just talk to Castelletti, get some body armor and get ready to shoot just in case

>Once those immediate issues have plans in place, what am I going to do with myself for the immediate foreseeable future?
Start learning(Whose from the Other Side, the interplay between rival organizations, etc.) and making contracts(Street rats, Cops, Medics, etc.). Practice our armed combat. Practice shooting. Learn the streets and sewers.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/24(Sun)21:17 No. 299037 ID: a76809
File 130370504082.jpg - (137.34KB , 718x727 , New Gear.jpg )

>>298867
I rifle through the dead man's wallet-his name was Andre Gustavo-and find five hundred Turkish Lira in his possession. Having no safe way to attempt fund extraction from his debit card, I instead make a rare trip to one of the legal firearms stores, and run up Mr. Gustavo's credit card only after assuring myself there are no security cameras to catch my visage. Along with a flare gun and a life vest, I purchase eight speed loaders for my Matebas (obviously only stipulating I need .454 casull compliant loaders), and two hundred rounds of said ammunition. To this pile, I add two pairs of full-fingered shooter's gloves, to reduce recoil, improve grip-and make it easier to avoid leaving prints. I also procure two s16-gauge compliant speed loaders (these being more expensive) for my judges, and top off my purchase with a trio of balaclava masks. The total is considerable-and I pay none of it, adding it all under a dead man's name, scribbling a hastily forged signature on the receipt before departing.

>>298869
Once I get back home, I busy myself rigging my pair of heavy fabric cargo pants to support snugly fitted holsters and hooks to hold prepared speed loads on either hip, discreetly obscured within my bulky pockets, and I slip each Judge speed load into a respective breast jacket pocket (only after restrapping each holdout harness to my arms) I check my range of motion, the accessibility of the newly sheathed Matebas-short of my legs being bent past ninety degrees I can easily reach and unholster them. I decide to keep the one with a nightvision scope on my left hip, the thermal vision scope on my right. As I try on my new gloves and slip a balaclava over my face, considering if there is anything else I am missing for equipment-I decide to more closely inspect good old Andre's keys.

Turns out he drove a Saab of some sort-beyond that I haven't a clue.

>>298879
Enough stalling-what am I going to do about Castelletti and this job? I got an inkling I COULD wheedle my way into things blowing over, and that if I put in the effort to track down another of Castelletti's enemies, offed him and brought proof to the meeting, I'd probably end up paid for my work. The particular problems with this plan that prevent me from following through on it are quite straightforward: How I'd find one of Castelletti's enemies lacking information, how I'd do it in an appreciable timeframe, how I'd get the data I'd need to even figure out who his other enemies are, how I'd gather intel on the target to make assassination viable-

Fuck it, I'm not going to try to bribe my way into the graces of someone that fucked me on intel and likely intends to stiff me AND kill me. Instead-I head back to Constanz' Crash Course, and decide to enroll. I spend the rest of the day in the gym (this being AFTER having taken back off all my operating gear and just going in workout clothes), as it turns out that after the clusterfuck that job turned into I had a good bit of stress to work out. I don't think I am left with a single muscle group that is not sore by the end, between squats, curls, pull-ups and some Iranians that feel like sparring with the newbie (and introduce me to a fighting style they call Krav Maga). I spend about three hours trading off sparring with four separate people, and start to get a rough feel for this rough and tumble style-really, it has a number of similarities with what the Marines taught and some of Ranger training. I say three hours not because I was so exhausted I was ready to drop at that point (even though I was), but because one of the instructors decides to take an interest in me. We get to chatting, he remarks it looks like I've had military training before, commented the Iranians were ex-military themselves, and in general fishes for information. I play my cards close, revealing little-but I drop enough clues as to how much I know about unarmed combat that the instructor-Boris Mihailov-decides to show me combat Sambo.

Two hours later, after five total hours being repeatedly brutalized by two new martial styles, I leave with a sore body and a hard-won grin, knowing this is a legitimate professional gym, and even if I don't find inns to undergroud fighting I could learn a great deal.

[COST OF LIVING: $2,250 per month]
FUNDS: $000,007,267+500Lira(~$320)

>>298910
As I take a shower, I consider what option I WILL pick for the Castelletti situation. After all, looks like he wanted a deniable catspaw for the strike-so he didn't want the suits to know he was responsible. Probably wanted to avoid turf disputes or faction discord while still offing Barby. So what if I leaked Castelletti's involvement to the suits, and brought them down on his head anyway? ...Eh, a bit too risky, how do I avoid them questioning me reporting it, and deducing that I was the shooter-I could always try to bring in the Triads on this, but quite frankly I don't think I have anywhere near enough cred with them to pull something like that.

>>298920
>>298921
>>298928
I make two calls. The first is to Söderström, where I explain that I have two prime-condition heavily customized Matebas, detailing their every modification, and ask if between them and the SKS stock, I could simply trade for the AVT-40, rather than having to convert the goods to funds first. His response reminds me why I like him.
>"Officially no, that absolutely cannot be done-but, [i]IF I happened to hold onto the guns and stock for you, and IF I decided to pursue potential buyers on my own time, and IF I felt like then using the money produced from those sales to fund your purchase-well, then at no point would company rule be being broken. ...Next time though, cash or a bank account, okay?[/i]"
I arrange a meeting time on the following day, to trade what I hold for the promised vintage rifle.

The second call I make is to Castelletti's contact number. When I identify myself I'm put on hold for less than a minute before the gravelly tones of the corpulent Italian blare into my ear.

>"Al, baby, good to hear from you! Quite a hubbub up there, huh?"
"Really, gonna lead with pleasantries rather than anything about why you called Barby and co 'no-names'?"
>"Well you know how it is, relative to some people who play the game his name don't mean squat-yeah he had some goons to his name but your alive and succeeded right? So where's the harm?"
"How about the fact you struck a deal that involves paying me much less than the involved risk would dictate."
>"Well sorry to break it to ya kid, but a contract's a contract-if you had misgivings about the price range you should have brought them up before agreeing, capische? Tell you what though-created a nice enough stir over there I might be able to give you a little something extra: Why don't you swing by, we can get accounts settled with you-maybe talk about your future, hey? I could use a guy like you!"

I want to believe him, I really do-I pulled off a difficult as hell job and I did it without getting caught-not just every hitman could have made it work. Just focusing on the words he says, Mr. Castelletti just sounds like a businessman conferring with a contractor, not someone after my life.... but there's something bothering me about what he said.....




So what am I going to do, go in for the meeting like Castelletti asked, or demand payment another way?
Should I call my Triad contact, and if so what should I say or ask?

Fuck. No.

IF you go over there, go ARMED TO THE FUCKING TEETH. Flashbangs, shotgun, judges, golck. Everything loaded. He starts any shit, you turn his ambush into yours - Kill him, kill his men.

No one fucks with Mr. Laine, motherfuckers.

"Maybe talk about your future" sounds like he's laughing to himself about how it's at the bottom of a river, cause he thinks he's so clever. We do not want to meet him in person. Get it wired to you or a drop-off of some kind. And avoid the area around their bar for awhile too. You're an outsider who knows he set-up the hit, and their organization seems fairly classic mafia style, so you're not going to be brought into the fold after one job. Chances are very high that they'll want to kill you if they get a chance.

If I'm outvoted on this bit, we are buying grenades first to bring with.

Contact the triad and get some info on this guy, in fact make sure to always try to get more info with Triad from now on.

> I might be able to give you a little something extra.
Like what, an extra bullet right between the eyes?

Gotta love the 9mm pension plan.

"Sorry, 'friend', but I'm feeling a little exposed and vulnerable right now. I'd be feeling a whole lot more inclined to trust you if I could get that money as a wire transfer first."

If he insists on a face-to-face, check out the meeting place before just walking in, preferrably through your new rifle's scope. If he's nowhere to be seen, then yeah, trap. But if he's there, give it a shot. I don't think a business man would risk his life going into a meeting with a competent hitman he intended to betray, and if he tried it you can at least get him into a Mexican stand-off; he should value his own life enough to get you out of there alive.

If you meet, meet on YOUR terms, not his. And definitely not on his turf. You name the place and time, not him. Like an open-air cafe or something along that line, somewhere nice and public, and pick a busy hour to make contact. ...And be there an hour and a half earlier than the time you name so he can't set up a bunch of his mooks at surrounding tables or get the jump by being a little early himself.

Do not go to meet the Italian.

Instead, ask for the cash to be wired to our friend Andre Gustavo's account, and spend the money somewhere discreet on something portable that holds value well.

Then, go to ground. You don't need to meet with this guy, as far as he's concerned, you don't exist any more. You probably want to have a think about how easily you could take him out.

>>299177
Since we're setting up our new friend as traitor, let's go ahead and make sure Söderström knows that the Matebas are hot, and that if anyone tries to pressure him into saying where they came from, Andre Gustavo is the name to mention.

Quick thought in regards to the car. Might be able to find it if you take a roundabout walk near the general area where you made the hit. Don't think the goon would've run across town just to chase you, after all. Just give it a day or two before you go looking.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/25(Mon)14:45 No. 299228 ID: a76809
File 130376792171.jpg - (44.54KB , 300x470 , Triad Contact revealed-Lo Fang of Mount Song.jpg )

>BTW, these blurbs at the top are Armas' recollections of what people he's met in the past use as their armaments, starting with US Ranger Drill Sergeant Edward Riker, who also carries the following-
Riker: Milkor MGL (Extended range version, the XRGL40) stock removed, an M203 grenade launcher mounted in between barrel and fore-grip, chambered with No. 4 Buck (effectively making it a massively upscaled Lemat revolver).

>>299060
Hah, heh, this guy-he thinks I'll actually come in and meet with him. Oh man-
>>299067
Why the hell would a meet a guy who could be promising me a 9mm pension plan when he offers a little something extra? He has the weight of numbers and the home ground advantage-a meeting is the last thing I want.
"Sorry friend, but I'm feeling a little exposed and vulnerable right now. I'd be feeling a whole lot more inclined to trust you if I could get that money as a wire transfer first."
>"Ah, you're busting my balls here Al, not wanting to sit and talk a bit before we part ways-I want to pick your brain, learn how such a gem of a worker went unnoticed-I even wanted to discuss far more lucrative work, but if you don't want to come-"
"Enticing as that is, between the job, the trip back-need I even mention the dangers of the sewers? All said, I simply feel like being safe for a time, if you understand me."
>"So [i]that's how you evaded the cordon.... but it sounds like you encountered trouble there and still got back, while giving those yahoos the slip-smart mouth or no, I can't help but take a greater shine to yah-alright, if you want to stay at home, I'll send it your way-you home now?[/i]"
>>299061
"Of course not-one can never be sure if those 'yahoos' are only ACTING like they didn't pick up a trail-what a pity to get this far and get gunned down in my own house, no?"
There is a pregnant pause tinged with the slightest whisper of malice over the hushed line.
>"...Okay then Al-what are you thinking?"
I wish I had an numbered Swiss account at this time, but those take serious money to even open, so-
>>299177
An idea strikes.
"I give you an account number, you wire it in, I stay scarce till I feel it safer, we look at business then-what do you say?"
>"A wire transfer-so impersonal-where's the love, Al? Why not a meeting, or barring that a drop-off"
"You can take the wire fee out of my pay so it doesn't cost you anything extra, and you get to spare yourself sending a guy out to a trivial little drop. Works out better for both of us, and we get to close this chapter-wouldn't that be best?"
>"...Fine, I'll come clean-look, my bosses are impressed as hell the guy I hired pulled this off, and have a guy they sent to personally convey their gratitude, and give a little something something-it was supposed to be a surprise, but look, cut me a break here alright? Why don't I transfer half, I'll eat the wire fee, and then their guy meets you at your house?"
"Send the transfer-"
>"Look-I don't have the option of telling them he couldn't meet with you, capische? You really think my bosses would be that nice?"
...Shit, I'm cornered-this would give him a legitimate reason to call for a general hit on me for attempting to threaten his position, and out maneuvering would get a whole lot less subtle-where the weight of numbers means a hell of a lot. I have to compromise-and see if I can barter.
"Then how about this-seventy-five wired, the rep brings twenty-five, we meet."
>"Kid it's sounding like you're doubting my integrity here-"
"Not at all-it's because I need some of the funds now, and can't make a meet until a week from now-"
>"A week? What kinda reason am I supposed to give the guy, huh? Work with me here Al-"
"Tell him I'm following up a lead from a past Triad job that if I don't follow could wind up with me dead soon anyway, and I can't afford to put it off."
Another pause, this time my heart racing as he rolls my lie about in his head, poking and prodding the idea before he finally says-
>"....Alright Al, if you have something that heavy to follow up on, do what you gotta do."
"Good-after I see the wire's gone in, I'll call you with the meeting location."
>"Really got to spend some dough, huh?"
"Something like that Mr. Castelletti. I'll have my eye on the account."

And with that I hang up.

I get up from my bed as I continue plotting-if I take all of Gustavo's money-wait, further, how will I get it? Certainly there is little need for PIN numbers in the vast majority of businesses here in Istanbul, but buying things all over town is one thing, closing the account another.

>>299063
Which is why I call the Triads.
>"...Who is this?"
"Armas Laine calling in with a business proposal."
>"...You hold on line."
Two minutes later, a familiar voice reaches me, aged and oiled, cultured and implacable, each consonant carefully clipped and precise, sounding more japanese in origin than Chinese.
>"...Mr. Laine, we converse again-I wondered which of us would be the one to initiate contact. I understand you have a business proposal."
"I do, but understand that the nature of the proposal requires I only share specific information-and that if you cannot do business without the full story, I would not impose to waste your time."
>"...A level of perceptive caution one would expect in an older player, tempered by the blunt boldness of youth-very well young man, to the point: Of course I can do business without knowing the full story, that's what the majority of my business is. Just understand that if I deem it necessary, I will MAKE it my business, and discover what was with-held."
"In the case of a threat to you or your holding, rather than pure curiousity, correct?"
>"...Predominately. Now you most certainly have piqued my interest-explain your proposal."
"You are familiar with the late Mr. Barby?"
>"Very much so, those his passing represents potential profit to me."
"I had the misfortune of being in the area when he was murdered, and as I am not the most inconspicuous looking person around, I was accosted by one of Barby's men. As I preferred to not die when he pulled a gun despite my protests, I had to kill him. The body is gone, no evidence left-but I am left with a bank account number, and a pressing need for cash the late would-be killer no longer needs.[/i]"
>"...A sensible idea, if I understand you. Istanbul is quite... friendly... to manipulations of ownership and identification. But what do you offer for aid in this attempt to profit from what could have been 'unfortunate circumstance?"
"The knowledge that because of how I made the body disappear, helping me with this would cement the individual as the killer in the minds of Barby's men-and assure you are not involved, as I would be the one to actually close the account with 'appropriate' identification."
>"...My my, you turned this into a chance to make ME offer YOU a job, rather than a business transaction-you would insure the disorganized followers of the late Barby have their attention elsewhere, providing my companions time to more aggressively seize their assets-and ask a payment that must be delivered upfront, else how can the mission be accomplished? ...I had not expected such cunning from a former US Ranger."
My blood runs cold and my heart skips a beat.
>"I shall take your silence as surprise-I did tell you Labombard, a trusted contractor long of service to us, made note he thought you would go places-do you not think we would investigate? A Marine and Ranger alike with urban combat experience.... yes, I think I shall support your little endeavor here-but be aware future jobs will be more in allignment with your capabilities-you were wasted on guard duty that night, when your services elsewhere... well, the past is the past. So, Armas, do you wish to come in?"
"You would have to tell me where 'in' is for me to go there."
>"Where you did your last job for us I have an office-and we have a group capable of just what you need."

I give him Gustavo's account details and all the information I garnered from his wallet over the phone, and we say our goodbyes, him telling me to stop by in the morning for what I need. I get some sweet, sweet sleep.

When morning comes I dress in street casual, carrying no firearms on me and naught but my mere pounamu as protection. I make my way back to the docks, and am ushered in without a word by Triad thugs, who continue to keep a lookout as I pass by. I am directed past the general bustle where crates and supplies of all sorts-spices, ammunition, guns, drugs and cash all being noted-but none of that strange fluid I watched be brought in that one night, eventually climbing stairs to an overhanging office.

I am ushered in by guards equipped with Chinese Type 81 assault rifles to meet-

Sitting at a pure white desk dressed in an impeccably crisp, perfectly fitted suit, not a single hair out of place sits the poster child of the successful chinese businessman. The unlined face that looks only a few years older than me moves, lips issuing words, and I hear the aged voice from over the phone address me as the speaker closes down a few programs on his laptop.

>"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Laine, to be face to face rather than speaking over the phone."
"I would like to say the same, but as of yet I have not caught your name, so strictly speaking it is not a claim I can make."
>"Most accurate-you have come this far in your interactions with a person you did not know, based only on your feel of the person-tell me, what were your thoughts concerning me?"
"I think that asking that question in a setting like this would most likely give only one kind of answer."

That unblemished, confident face shifts oh so slightly to present an amused, assertive smile as the speaker reaches to his side, pulling forth a manila folder to place before me, before gesturing for me to sit.
>"I have the requested materials-a remade driver's license with your picture, the same for a passport. It would seem your trust was well-placed, and so I introduce myself to you as Lo Fang, of Song Shan."
"...I know very little, but that would mean Mount Song, would it not?"
>"I believe that archaically I am supposed to insert a backhanded compliment of barbarian awareness of my homeland, whereas the contemporary response would be to be condescending in a bit more circuitous manner. I shall do neither and simply say you are correct. I don't suppose you know any more about my homeland?"
"Sadly not."
>"A pity."
"I did have something you may be interested in, though-an added bonus to our transaction here, that is."
>"I am not always a fan of surprises-but please, go ahead."
"Here are the keys to Gustavo's house and car-I do not have the facilities to make proper use of such items-perhaps they could be of use to you in the coming days."
>"....I believe I can think of several uses for such a trinket. I thank you for the thoughtful gift, Mr. Laine-which I note seems almost like a visitor's gift to a host met the first time-rather archaic behavior, that. But certainly not something I frown upon. Well, I imagine you are operating on a tight timetable here, so I shall keep you no longer-but expect a call from us concerning possible work within the week."
"I shall. ...It was an honor to meet you, Mr. Fang."
>"It was, but not at all in the way you think. I shall see you again, Mr. Laine."

With those enigmatic parting words, I am escorted out again with my new procurements. I hardly even glance about as I make note of the bank's address-and the attached note that it has no internal security cameras.

Three hours later, a receptionist is offering her apologies that I no longer need their bank's services, congratulating me on my noted plan to move-

On the receiving end of a little over sixty seven thousand lira.

I rather promptly return home, only slowing to do double-backs and make sure I am not being followed. Once safely back, I add the duffle bag of money to my safe, counting up my current funds.

[FUNDS:-----US$000,051,788.52]

.....I saw the notice of a recent deposite that came from a numbered account when closing-Castelletti wired the money in prior to closing. He's probably waiting on my return call to give the location for the meet. I consider what I have done-I wonder if there is anything else I could do to improve my situation right now or otherwise get Barby's followers focused on chasing Gustavo's ghost.






What should I do?
With no current jobs, what should I do with my time before the proposed Castelletti representative meeting?

Well, damn. Look at all that money.

Go back to the gym, I guess... Oh, and the gun! The magic gun. That too.

Guile 2011/04/25(Mon)16:01 No. 299235 ID: a6ba65
File 130377247376.jpg - (10.56KB , 284x250 , FRAG-12round.jpg )

See about outfitting your AA-12 shotgun with FRAG-12s, now that you'e got the dosh. I think a full drum of 20 will set you back 5 grand or so.

HE variant, maybe, or HE-AP (in case we run into something armored or magic-shielded). Maybe even find a way to shorten the stock or something to more easily fit somewhere concealable.

Because boolet is good, but explosive is better.

Well, for improving our situation... Hrmm... ...Hey. Remember my suggestion for stirring up a turf war to get the suits off our backs and get revenge on Castelletti? Gustavo's ghost sounds like a good opportunity for that. Stir up trouble and bring heat down on Castelletti's head, we might be able to see to him getting taken down, so that we don't have a mob-leader around who has reason to want us dead. Just have to find a way to plant evidence of a connection between Gustavo and Castelletti someplace where the suits will find it. ...Uh. Maybe we shouldn't have given his house key away to the Triads, damnit, that would have been a good chance. Other than that... Hrm, maybe we could manipulate the meet with Castelletti to go our way? I dunno... Hrmm... Could make use of our forged ID and passport, fake Gustavo moving to a location where the mafia's presence is strong.

Oh, yeah, gym is good, but a little warning: We have important people who have good reason to want our asses dead running around, and frequenting anywhere runs the risk of giving them an opportunity to assassinate us. So be careful about being seen at the gym, maybe try not to keep a consistent schedule for going there. Other than that... I dunno, work on getting more contacts. Don't go looking for any new jobs, we've got our hands full already.

>>299235
FRAG-12s are for pussies. Real men use slugs or sabots. More reliable, more accurate, more consistently lethal, and way cheaper.

We need to tell Cast that we need a way to contact the guy himself to set-up the meet. Tell him this is because the Triad thing has a chance of drawing heat, and because of that you can't know where the meeting will be until' then. Go ahead and give him a time though. And then only give him the place right around when the meeting will be. He'll try to say to meet at one of his places, so you'll need to find a way around that though. Maybe make it across town, and say that the meeting itself was hard to pencil in, so it needs to be near where you're off to next. If we've decided on a road-trip, maybe work that into it. If someone has a better idea, ignore this crappy plan for how to get away from meeting in his territory.

>>299228
Your main focus should be on setting up Gustavo as the killer and tying him to Castelletti, leaving evidence of this so the suits can find. This will result in a turf war, but the turf war itself doesn't matter. The turf war is simply the means by which we will make Castelletti look like an incompetent fool, making his bosses view him as a risk to their operation and getting them to hire us to eliminate the bastard. Getting anyone done up as the killer may seem hard given how good of a job we did, but we did leave one rather nice clue for the suits to go off of, our guitar case. All we need to do is use the guitar case, leaving in guns that can fire the same bullets we used to kill Mr Barby, plus Gustavo's glock. Now we also need to tie him to Castelletti, thankfully we just got him to wire Gustavo a very pretty penny. We can leave something simple inside the case, something that will be the first little bit of a paper trail that shows this transaction. The final bit is leaving this somewhere that doesn't make it look like planted evidence, but where the suits can still find it. If the Triads let us take back the house for a bit and plant it somewhere around there we could be golden if we whisper the right things in the right ears and get the suits to go there. Now if they won't, and I'll assume they won't, we'll have to set up a location near the alley and make it look like a spot a mercenary would set up, somewhere they probably haven't check yet but will soon enough.

Aside from all that work? Yeah I agree hit the gym, but don't be stupid about it and set a schedual for yourself. Just vary the days and times you decide to go to the gym and try to ask around to other patrons while your there to find the underground fights. I also want us to look into finding a good occult library, but in a way that won't get a supernatural to try and kill us. When we find it we need to look for books on Maori and Finnish folklore, mysticism, and cultural practices. You need to do some reading up Almas.

>>299252
Thumbs up, mate, good ideas. Furthering my own idea for manipulating the meet, we could have the meet or a drop off be set to happen at Gustavo's house, while making sure the suits see it happen. The bit with the guitar case at the house is good, might get them to set up eyes on the house instead of having to make sure they're there specifically at the meeting/drop-off time. Maybe we could off any suits that get close to the house, maybe within a block radius, draw attention to that area. Could also go into the house and flip the lights on or something to make it look like somebody is home (A tad obvious, though, and we'd either need to ask for the keys back from the Triads, which would make us look stupid, or break in). Last idea, we set things up so a van or truck drives on up to the house, like movers or something, and they go in and strip the place of furniture and appliances, might be able to attract some attention.

'course, problem with this, we might have to work closer with the Triads, and while it might be worth it, people knowing about jobs we've done is never a good thing. We need to be careful with how much we say to who, weigh the risks with the rewards.

(Oh, and, uh, yeah, it's a professional gym, no undeground fighting, from the looks of it. Still, we could definitely improve our melee combat skills by going there and learning from the instructors, sparring with other people.)

>>299254
To reinforce the idea he's moving we should follow up the moving trucks with purchasing one way tickets to some place with connections to the mob like Italy, make use of the passports and tickets too, perhaps give them to a random idiot and tell him he won a prize.

Oh, yes, one last random thing: Try looking up Mount Song on the internet, wikipedia, and stuff, look into the title of our Triad contact in case it's of importance.

>>299239
Instead of calling back Castelletti, I email him the meeting location-and give him Gustavo's address. Next, I call back Lo Fang, and am shortly provided a contact number within Barby's faction without any request for payment or trade. I call in from a public payphone eight blocks from my house, an idea forming as the line is picked up.
>" Ja, wer ist das?
"English, do you speak it?"
>"..Ja, who is this?"
"I'm with Castelletti."
>"......What do you want?"
"Look, I don't got a bunch of time-my boss has been meeting with one of your guys, Andre Gustavo, and I saw some major money change hands. I think it's involved with what happened to Mr. Barby."
>".....Why would you tell me this?"
"Word gets out, families are gonna murder Castelletti-and I get a chance to move up. That and you guys don't get any funny ideas we approved this-trying to make clear it was his action, you understand me?"
>"......Ja, I understand-but why me? Where did you get this number?"
"Wouldn't you love to know-I saw a list of suspected followers of Barby, memorized one and called it-lucky you. -They're coming so I gotta go-but I think Castelletti's looking for Gustavo, I overheard something about being crossed-Igottago-"

And with that I hang up.

>>299233
Castelletti's number rings on my phone-and I let it go to voicemail, sure he's just going to try to wheedle me into a meet at a different place. I wait for it to go to message, then call Söderström, and arrange out meeting-he says it will have to be postponed until tomorrow. Instead I head to Constanz' gym-to find the Iranians present once again-this time with some Israeli friends. They wave me over, we communicate haltingly given their broken command of English and my own limitation to English, Finnish and Te Reo (language of the Maori), before it becomes clear they were hoping to see me again today, as it was their Israeli friends that taught them Krav Maga to begin with, and offer me the chance to continue to indulge my curiousity. What their smiles tell me is they also look forward to the chance to beat me senseless even as they instruct me. An idea pops into my head, and I get across my hope to have two come at me at once, but be methodical, move-by-move about their use of Krav Maga, so I get more examples of how it looks, works, and when it is used-THEN we can get on to the real sparring. The five of them smile and agree, and discuss amongst themselves their rotations so all get to take the field against me.

What follows isn't a fight-not by any means. Instead there are hours of moves repeated over and over as I slowly construct a mental schema In Krav Maga when you foe is this far away at this height of elevation you attack like THIS and compile my ever-growing list of real-life examples You can attack joints just like THIS while trying to really build a good fundamental sense You would move to actively break a joint in situations like THIS of Krav Maga.

Six hours later one of them finally brings up that we were supposed to actually spar at some point. We laugh, all having gotten caught up in our little world, that moment of instruction-and switch gears to the practical. Having had some time to sit on, sleep on my first brush with Krav Maga, I'm much more able to keep up with the style's innate senses of timing-while my earlier bouts let me work out a few moves to try out in turn. When I start mixing actual attacks from Krav Maga into my fighting, the group I'm practicing with starts to nod and smile. At the next sparring break, my opponent looking worse for wear, they ask if I am indeed, as they suspect, US military. When I reply I was they nod in understanding, and shakily convey my fighting looked familiar to them. We continue for three more hours before finally hitting the sauna and showers, in that order. Finally refreshed and bruises beginning to show, I head out to a nearby bar with my new friends (The three Iranians Ahmad, Hafez and Shaya and the two Israelis Hadar and Yoni) to have dinner and grab some beers. The day ends without much excitement to compare to my working days-but I would not dream of calling it unfulfilling.

Morning comes and I head to my meet with Arkvad, my father's friend and one-time member of the Finnish Army, the pair of Matebas and scopes, along with the SKS stock all stowed away for the event. We meet in a Holland and Holland affiliated office on the outskirts of downtown Istanbul-the snow-haired fin reaching to stretch his arms around me.

>"Ah, Armas, it is good to see you in person-it has been more than a year now, has it not?"
"That's right, we meant to meet when I picked up Keihäs but you were called away."
>"Yes, something of a client emergency.... well, I have news you will not like, followed with something I strictly speaking can't give you that should make the situation far more tolerable."
"...Cryptic in person, as always-explain away."
>"The worst of it then: My soviet rifle contact is more versed in supernatural firearms than I anticipated. He swapped out the rifle's stock and custom magazine for visually identical pieces just before disassembly and storage-so the ruse was found only after the transaction was made. This... means you are stuck with a very well tooled up, high performance but ultimately antiquated automatic rifle."
"The way you say that makes it sound like you still expect the same pay from me."
>"Which is where we come to the better news, from your end-now, I am obviously not allowed to disclose client information-"
"Obviously."
>"But, if you had paid for the rifle, and then, after we struck our deal in barter, you discovered it was not enchanted, I could take that as grounds to justify middleman confidentiality breach, as by accordance with our deal, you were given unnacceptable goods. So, I can't give you what was originally promised-but if you pay for it like you DID get it, then I can give you the name and number of the one who would be able to explain WHY you didn't get it."
"Honestly? Only if you can genuinely promise me this guy is an individual and not some private warlord or something."
>"..Excuse me?"
"It's been one of those weeks-fine, I accept your alternative-just email it to me, okay?"
>"As requested-and with that-"

I sign papers and hand over my trio of trade-in exchange getting an aged, expertly cared for and heavily modified SVT-40, incorporating parts from the AVT and sniper variants, along with a built from scratch twenty round magazine.

And with this gun-which I pack into my duffle bag after a partial disassembly-I also receive some numbers-and a name: Florent Smets, a Belgian Philanthropist that lives in the more expensive portion of Istanbul-where the police are ready and attentive. ...Something to look into at some point. For now, having both a new rifle option using my existing 7.62x54 should be plenty useful.

>Armas Laine Armory
>-3" cylinder 3" barrel Taurus Raging Judges, (X2)
>-8 3/8" barrel, .454 Casull chambered Mateba Model 6 Unica Autorevolver Customs (X2)
>-Keihäs, Mosin Nagant M28/30
>-SVT-40 custom, nicknamed the 'AVT-40 Sniper'
>-10mm 15 round Glock 10

I make my way back home, all my pressing meets wrapped up-when the phone promptly rings. Castelletti-again. I again ignore it, sticking to my ruse I had something dangerous to follow up on.

>>299252
>>299254
...I'm being naive if I think what I've set up thus far will just 'wrap up' the Castelletti event. Sure, I have a clear goal-I want that bastard dead for trying to use me like a disposable killer, and I want to not have a bounty put on my head by the rest of the Mafia. So what if the Italians scope out Gustavo's house? That won't guarantee suspicion-what about giving them more? I flip through the phone book, jot down a few numbers, and add a few more charges to Gustavo's credit card. With these ones I decide to not risk any further. Next I move to a public computer use cafe, printing out a plane ticket, and spending the next half hour looking for someone who will take it no questions asked and use it.

Then I sit back, a locksmith ordered to open up Gustavo's house without the need for an occupant present (by special request), a moving company coming twenty minutes after to begin packing up the whole house-all of it schedule the day and time I gave Castelletti for the meet at Gustavo's house.

I spend the next four days going to Constanz' gym at odd hours, picking Ahmad, Hafez, Shaya, Hadar and Yoni's numbers and working to expand my understanding of Krav Maga-by the latter days of constantly working on the craft and discussing it with the rest in the hours in between, I really start to feel I'm improving as a combatant-give me a few more weeks of this and I think I'll be solid on Krav Maga, enough so I can keep practicing the individual moves on my own.

Two hours after the time I gave for the meeting, I start getting calls and emails non-stop from Castelletti, no information being left save an intense desire to speak-to meet. When I check in with Lo Fang, asking why Castelletti's men might be agitated, he notes that a representative of the ruling families in Sicily was gunned down by followers of the late Mr. Barby.

...Son of a bitch, it worked....
>"...Hello, Mr. Laine? I enjoy indulging your machiavellian machinations, but please do not think I have enough time you can put me on hold while you think-was there something else you were interested in?"






What should I say or do?
I seem to be proceeding down a twisty path to bring tragedy down on Mr. Castelletti's head-how shall I keep it going towards it's conclusion?

"My apologies, Mr. Fang. Machiavellian schemes are surprisingly enjoyable, I can't believe I've never tried them before. And no, I believe I don't require your assistance more for the time being, save one: your contacts seem very good. Could I perhaps have the name of one of Castelletti's men who is on the take for one thing or another, or is otherwise untrustworthy? Things are coming to a head, and I don't have time for proper research myself. Ah, and may I have the name of one of the Triad whose affiliation is already known to Castelletti's men to serve as my 'Triad contact'? I would not presume to use your name so without permission, of course."

I say this assuming ONE of his men is doing something on the sly for SOMETHING, it's the mafia! Take pictures.

Then agree to Castelletti's meeting. Blow into the meeting looking harried; he's not going to be happy. He might just pull a gun on you. Keep cool.

"Castelletti, we have problems. I do not have time for this, or Fang (or whoever's name he gives us) is going to put a bullet in me."

No doubt he'll accuse you of being that problem, you dirty snitch, you, and that HE is going to put a bullet in you.

"Yeah, thought you might say that, so I thought you might like to see these." Toss pictures onto the table showing his man meeting with a suspicious person or passing something off, or receiving something. Doesn't really matter what, as long as it throws doubt on him and off you.

"Look, I don't have a lot of contacts, Castelletti. I don't betray the ones I do have. You don't trust me yet, that's fine. I'm not sure I trust you, either. Our relationship doesn't have to be about trust, though. Our relationship is about profit, and for me to profit, you need to as well. What do I need to do to earn that trust? You know I'm good at what I do. Point me at someone and watch me go."

With luck, he'll point you back at Barby's men, in revenge for the Sicilian hit. Go nuts. This will, if anything, further enflame things on the gang war front. Later, we can go up the chain of command and tip the higher-ups off that Castelletti is employing a loose cannon, and turned a single hit into a massively costly war.

This is a risky gambit, but it seems like it could pay off big-time to me.

Take out a cop near one of Castelletti's sites and stash the body haphazardly, like a low-level goon might do that lacks that professional touch, making sure that the hapless dork doesn't get a chance to radio for help. Buy a cheap double-barreled shotgun and saw it down to use for the hit, a Lupara will add a little more weight since it's a traditional Mafia tool.

Afterward, make an anonymous call to the police, FROM A PAY PHONE, and report some unlicensed weapons being moved at the Mafia hideout proper. Then wait half an hour to an hour and make a second anonymous call from a different public phone reporting a disturbance in the area that sounded like gunfire.

If all goes well, the cops will already be suspicious from the weapons tip, and when they find their dead brother-in-arms and shit will hit the fan for Mr. Backstabbing Fuckhead.

>>299279
Meeting with Castelletti face-to-face after what we did... That sounds like an extremely bad idea. Let's not do that. MAYBE the loose cannon thing, but... Eh, there are likely ways to get the same result that don't carry the same personal risk.

>>299280
I like this idea, yeah, getting the cops on his ass sounds good. Just be careful of what you call in, they might just ignore a report for weapons on the mafia. And killing cops sounds risky, particularly with unsilenced weapons. Might just wanna use a Mateba instead. ...That, and cops might not even go near Castelletti's locations anyway, so we'd end up having to drag it or something. I wonder if a better idea might be to set off an explosion, or dabble in arson, attract attention to the area.

Hrmm... We could also let things just simmer for a bit before we make our next move. We need to introduce this 'Florent Smets' to our Mateba's. -Maybe- ask Lo Fang about him, but if we can research him ourselves, case his house, let's do that, we don't wanna become overly reliant on him.

>>299280
Gonna go ahead and upvote this. Especially the shotgun bit. Want to cast suspicion on a specific group after all. But we should be careful about people hearing the shotgun. Maybe set up near an alley with something thick to muffle the sound of the shotgun as much as possible, then grab a cop as he passes.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/26(Tue)22:16 No. 299559 ID: a76809
File 130388139016.jpg - (127.81KB , 536x800 , Galileo Savoy Appears.jpg )

>>299279
"My apologies, Mr. Fang. Machiavellian schemes are surprisingly enjoyable, I can't believe I've never tried them before."
>"I could tell-why else would you be so frank and open about such duplicitous dealings with one who could well use it against you? I shall not hold your naivete against you... this time."
"Your message is heard-and no, I believe I don't require your assistance more for the time being, save two interwoven requests, ones that should not tax your resources."
>"I should hope not, as an idle whim to see what you do does not extend to cutting into our organization's profits. So, the interwoven, minor things you speak of?"
" your contacts seem very good. Could I perhaps have the name of one of Castelletti's men who is on the take for one thing or another, or is otherwise untrustworthy?"
>"I hear you speak of some sort of criteria-but you have eliminated no one from Castelletti's organization-he is not well known for cracking down on side deals. Why do you need it?"
"Things are coming to a head, and I don't have time for proper research myself."
>"I shall watch with interest then-the other request is also required for things to culminate?"
"Well, I was going to say the name of some Triad I could use to manipulate Castelletti, but-"
>"You deduced I would scoff at your attempts, on the basis that a threat to a member of our fold, however minor or unlikely, is intolerable to me given our current understanding?"
"I was going to say I came up with a better plan, but sure, let's go with that."
>"Ha-ha, very well."
"No, what I need is some sort of contact in the Mafia, some way to reach the people ABOVE Castelletti-without him knowing or being able to interfere with the message."
>"You request a contact number for one of the Mafia's Confessors?"
The hell is a 'Confessor?'
"I'm assuming you have one you can vouch Castelletti could not influence."
>"A good attempt at deciept-but if you knew what a Confessor was, you'd know you can't bribe them, convince them to lie, omit details, or in any way betray their profession. It is a physical impossibility for them-and it is why the Mafia's Dons listen to them. I could indeed give you such a number to use-but past that, I shall help you know more, as were you in need of further assistance to make this work, you'd get yourself killed shortly anyway. I do hope you shall impress me, Mr. Laine."

With that Lo Fang hangs up-and my phone immediately lights up, a text message containing two numbers giving me something to work with.

Okay, I know roughly how I want this to end-now how do I make the now lead to the future I'm shooting for.....

>>299280
>>299293
...Well, I have a plan that should put the last nail in Castelletti's coffin-but it requires I kill a police officer in cold blood just to draw the wrath of his brothers down on Castelletti. The whole way to Garbage Pete to get a double-barreled sawn-off shotgun I roll the idea around, looking for a better plan-one exists, I'm sure, but I can't think of it-and I'm not lowering my standards. So, with the sun setting, I head to the very same restaurant I met Castelletti at, keep my distance, and begin casing the joint, observing patrol schedules, body counts-

About ten, twenty minutes into my analysis, with the streets beginning to quiet down, my attention's distracted as automatic gunfire starts piercing the night-a sedan with blacked out windows peels by, tires screeching as the eateries glass store front explodes and people scream while the shooters jeer in what sounds like german. I duck behind a trash can, already looking to turn this to my advantage as I call the police, informing them of my location and that I head a (singular) gunshot and a scream, and proceed to give the address. Five minutes after I hang up, some two score mafiosos explode out of the wrecked shop, Castelletti spitting fire at their lead, as they load into cars and jet off-

Leaving only a few token guards in place, just four that I can see. Wasting no time, I advance, my sawn-off held low as I stick to the shadows, crossing the street as I keep my ear out. As I settle into the alleyway I described in my police call-in, I have to wait but a moment before I hear that familiar wail of approaching authority. One of the few guards pops out the side door opening on the alleyway I'm in-and gets put in a sleeperhold, and is brought gently, quietly to the ground in an unconscious heap-that I only barely drag behind a dumpster before the police car pulls to a stop. A patrolman gets out, shines his light down the alleyway-to illuminate me, standing free of the slumped form, doing what I can to look the picture of concern. I gesture at the slumped figure, worry bleeding into my voice.

"Please, he's been shot, he needs to see a doctor!"

As the policeman trots over, fingers already going to his radio, I take a quick glance around-

Before I pull out the shotgun I'd hidden behind my leg, and unload two rounds of 12 gauge point blank, one to the upper legs and one to the face, completely bypassing any vest he may be wearing as he dies in an explosion of blood and gore. Moving fast, I put the sawn-off in the mafioso's hands, ensuring his prints overlay the whole grip as I take the policeman's taser, and discharge it into the thug, wires protruding from his chest as he quivers, while I replace it in the officer's hands. ...Well, that should be believable enough-it better be, because I can already here more sirens-a LOT more. Looks like the neighbors did indeed call about the drive-by. ...Time to go.

As I depart to a safe distance, watching from a shadowed nook more than a block away, I cannot help but smile as I watch the atmosphere change from reluctant trespassers to warriors seeking vengeance as they find the gunned down one of their own-and the italian that seems to have gunned him down. Twenty minutes later, my phone starts ringing again as Castelletti tries to call me-which seems the signal to move onto the next step of the plan. I call the first number Lo Fang gave me. It rings only once.

>"I don't know who the fuck you are-and this number ain't given out freely, what-"
"You are aware that the police have found a gunned down officer at one of Castelletti's restaurants, correct?"
>"The FUCK-"
"And you are aware that Castelletti was explicitely told to keep relations smooth with Mr. Barby's assoicates, something he has rather spectacularly failed to do."
>"Look I'm warning you once, you-"
"It would behoove you to spend less time threatening, more time thinking and listening-how you choose now could matter a great deal towards what your future is. Now are you interested in listening, or should I call someone else?"

There is a silence that starts to stretch too long-and I take a risk.

"Well if that's how you fe-"
>"WAIT-wait, just... what's your game?"
" Before that, I wish to be clear: You are aware that Castelletti has failed to carry out missions given to him, threatens the stability of the organization, and has now brought the police down on your heads?"
>"...Let's say I do know this-what's it to you?"
"Do you wish to go down with Castelletti and his followers in this area, or would you prefer to survive his mistakes? I am giving you a chance to prove you are not his follower-but simply a loyal member."
>".....What do you want?"
"Suppose a Confessor wished to speak to you-what would you tell them concerning Castelletti?"
>"A fucking CONFESSOR!? Who the... th... oh [i]fuck-ah, I mean, forgive my rudeness, it was truly not my intent to offend... ah...[/i]"
"As of now there is no reason for you to know my name-just answer my question if you wish to see a happy ending to your story-now, what would you tell a Confessor about Castelletti?"

When the guy's still talking ten minutes later, still spilling dirt on his boss' under the table deals, I decide that I don't need to write anything down.

"Okay-it seems you DO understand the situation. You will be receiving a call soon-a call I would recommend you anticipate, lest you inadvertently offer disrespect to the wrong individual. For the here and now-it seems I don't need to look for another-our conversation will conclude now, and I recommend you begin gathering whatever documents you need as reference for your claims-I doubt the confessor will leave it at 'I think he did'."
>"Oh god thank you pl-"

I hang up before the confusion, panic and elation can start to wear off, before a rational mind starts asking questions I could not bluff my way through-and I call the second number I was given. This number does not even finish ringing before it's picked up. There is no greeting-no one saying 'hello', no surly, grunt.... just an attentive void of silence, waiting for my words to fill it.

"I was told this would be were to call if I think the Mafia's holdings in Istanbul are under threat."
>"Where did you get this number?"
"I'm afraid I cannot share that, it was given in confidence by someone who thought my need worthy."
>"What is the nature of your information?"
"Where to start-Castelletti hired me to off someone named Mr. Barby, a big name in the Istanbul underworld. As requested, I kept the job quite, and Barby's followers still suspect one of their own men-DESPITE this, Castelletti has managed to end up with a gang war on his hands-which includes a drive by on one of the italian restaurants he operates. This gets better, as while he was out looking for vengeance on the shooters, some cope showed up to check on the disturbance and one of his guys gunned down the cop. I am right now looking at ten police cars and counting outside the establishment-hence my call. If this keeps up I don't think the Mafia will even be able to operate here."
>"What do you offer as corroberation to your claims?"
"How about one of Castelletti's men that has realized how dangerous his boss is and is willing to comment?"
>"What is the number?
I give it.
>"I will call this number back in fifteen minutes."

Exactly fifteen minutes, on the dot after the Confessor hangs up, my phone rings just as I'm watching the police putting up their tape to wall off a crime scene.

>"Your claims appear accurate-making Castelletti a threat. Did you call to warn only or propose a solution you wish to see approved?"
"Well, seeing as how he tried to use me as a disposable assassin-which I get, it's business-and continued to try to get rid of me after figuring out I wasn't a two bit thug, yes, I have a solution."
>"You seek employment in your field concerning this matter?"
"You offering me a contract on Castelletti?"
>Was such your desire when calling in?"
"Say it was-what would the reaction be? Concern that an outsider's nosing in Mafia business?"
>"Perhaps not phrased quite that way.""
"What about this then-send some guy-someone known for getting the job done-to deal with Castelletti, and I act as an assistant to them. That way, it's still Mafia business, handled internally-and I'm involved only insofar as the reporter of the issue."
>"Understand that I cannot make any determinations myself, and must bring this to those that are given the option to choose."
"That's fine-you have my number."
>"One last bit of clarification-you are the assassing Mr. Castelletti hired for the contract on Mr. Barby, is that not correct?"
"A job I wish he had been more honest about, but yes."
>"Understood. You will be given a call back shortly."

I wait all night for a call that never comes, heading home late at night after I've grown weary of watching Castelletti futilely attempt to reach me. ...You shouldn't have crossed me, you fat fuck-I wove the threads together and now it's too late-the noose is about your neck, it just needs to be tightened.

Come morning, there is a knock on my door. I check via a side-mounted peephole-to find a single man on my doorstep, dressed in a suit worth more than my entire apartment, a scar running through his left eyebrow, around the outside of his eye socket and down over his chin, extending along his neck and vanishing beneath his collar. Clean shaven and relaxed, the man seems perfectly content to wait, not even bothering to check his watch-which I note made of gold.

>"Mr. Laine, I was sent in regards to your call last night-my name is Galileo Savoy-may I come in? We have business to discuss."







What should I say or do?

Ah, professional conduct. Safe enough to let in, I think, since if he was out to terminate you there's plenty of methods that don't involve putting oneself at risk by walking up to the door of a known contract killer and knocking like a fucking Jehova's Witness. Let the guy in, offer him a coffee or something. Though keeping a pistol at hand until he's proven clear wouldn't be a bad idea.

Be reluctantly impressed. This is a guy who found out where you live within hours of showing up in this city; something I don't think Castelletti has, yet.

"You didn't call ahead. If I had known you were coming, I would have freshened up first. Maybe baked a pie."

He doesn't seem like the kind of guy to give a shit about posturing or bravado; keep the guns hidden, although it wouldn't hurt to be armed with something, just in case. Holdout Judges, probably. Try and note if that impeccably tailored suit is hiding a gun somewhere; that's tricky, and usually means the tailor was aware of what he needed to hide. What are we wearing, anyway? I don't think a wifebeater would go over well with this guy.

Let him in, offer him something. Coffee, tea, beer, whatever. Be polite without being obsequious, and professional with a touch of the glib to imply you're not feeling terribly threatened.

"You are, I assume, here to discuss our mutual friend."

>>299566
>>299567
These sound pretty good, though minus the glibness for the second post, I don't think that's going to gain us any respect. I wonder if it'd be worth it to try asking how he knew where to find us.

Moving on to business... Talk over the contact you're going to be taking, ask after the exact details and pay (Haggling may or may not work, or be a smart idea), then move on to the plan of action. Let's see if we can get info on Castelletti, I doubt he's staying at the same restaurant anymore, let's find out what the opposition is. I figure we've got two courses of action... Sniping Castelletti (Which, considering he's expecting trouble, probably won't work as he's unlikely to offer a good shot, unless we can catch him chasing after Barby's followers again), or, we use Galileo's presence and the fact that Castelletti's leaders want him dead to talk our way past his guards, convince them it's in their best interests to side with us, head into whatever room Castelletti is in, and from there it should be a simple matter to see him dead. Hell, maybe we can call up that snitch who we convinced to talk to the Confessor, maybe even meet with him, recruit him for this so it goes smoother, he already seems like he's abandoning ship afterall.

Could try taking advantage of Castelletti's desperation to 'meet' as well, though I don't know if picking up the phone is a smart idea. Best plan I can figure for exploiting it is, we set up a 'meet', go with Galilo to it with him as the 'lead', he either talks down the guys send to set up an ambush and kill Armas if the bastard isn't there, or he executes him if he is. Obviously this assumes Castelletti isn't just gonna yell at Armas or anything, and they don't simply shoot both of them... Yeah, perhaps springing it on Castelletti's men without him knowing and talking them over is a better idea.

But, of course, Galilo may also have some ideas, resources, and clues that we don't, so we should be sure to let him chime in as well. He's technically the 'leader' and Armas the 'assistant' for this afterall.

>>299566
He could have approached this a whole mess of ways if he wanted to kill me-this isn't even close to an intelligent way to do it. For now, at least, I feel confident saying he is not actively going to try to kill me-and the fact that, barring that, he's the next step to my plan to get rid of Castelletti, well-Once my paranoia and rationalism finish their contest I open the door. I decide to go for a straightforward approach-with the Glock tucked in the back of my pants, shirt overhanging and concealing it as I offer an easy smile to the man with a chin sharp enough to shave with.
>>299567
...How did he find me that fast? Castelletti hasn't made outright mention he knows where I live-and I doubt he's communicated it to Galileo even indirectly-so he located me based on a phone number and arrived at my door in... six hours? From Sicily? ...How the hell did he pull off that combo research/travel/trackdown-and that's assuming the Confessor tapped him the MOMENT we stopped talking-I'm betting this got bounced to some bigwigs to confer on first, before reaching this guy-probably no more than five hours, then. ...A man of means, then. A thing to note.

"You didn't call ahead. If I had known you were coming, I would have freshened up first. Maybe baked a pie."
>"Really, you bake?
"Sadly no but since all I can offer right now is pasta-"
>"Ha ha, I see-well, may I come in, Mr. Laine?"
"Sure."

I pull the door fully open as I step back, letting the scarred, sharp dressed mobster in, grinning as he takes off his hat, his hand wavers in search of a hat rack-before setting the article back down on his head. He surveys my abode, a basic four room affair, with one room converted into my weapons maintenance room. He nods as he surveys my weapons-shit I should have thought to put away the Matebas-and completes his slow revolution, facing me in silent inquiry as I shut the door behind me. I stalk past him, opening my beverages-only minifridge and grabbing a few bottle of beer. Galileo accepts the offered brew in continued silence, only taking a long pull after I swig away at my own, a small smile twisting his lip.

"You are, I assume, here to discuss our mutual friend."
>"A certain member of management that has not been performing well-someone I would not, at this juncture, term a 'friend', either to myself or my Family."
"So I would assume-It would seem your presence here indicates you have a job proposal, given the Confessor originally said he would call me back, not that someone would come for a face to face."
>"A fair assumption. Consider this hypothetical then: How does one un-sully a name, or a reputation?"
"By providing such overwhelming and pervasive evidence of the total opposite of that which sullied them-the weak become strong, the slow-witted crafty, the gullible the manipulative."
>"Quite the viewpoint you have there-take the weakness that dug you the hole, use it to dig right out? Is not improving in something you are bad at more difficult than with other skills?"
"All the more reason to do it-clear evidence some aspect of one is lagging behind, and needs intensive effort to bring up to par and beyond."
>"But how does one change that drastically-more importantly, how does one do it quickly?"
"Well, I was going to say over months and years-but as to doing it quickly-one can't, unless said one becomes an entirely different one than originally there."
Inspiration hits me.
"Like, say, replacing a recently-gone-soft-and-incompetent manager with someone known to be capable, someone-"
>"I suppose I owe Raphael five thousand, then-he thought you would figure out the plan. Perhaps the breakfast of beer-tastefully brewed or no-has not addled your wits"

>[NEW TRAIT NEARLY UNLOCKED]

I chug away half of the bottle and let out a pointed belch.

>"Yes I know, what was I thinking."
>>299762
"So-a replacement of management-is that the job that drew you here?"
>"Not quite. The job has two aspects, and in their wisdom the Dons decided that as a core player to the events that led to this and the reporter, you are to be involved in both aspects. The First aspect is exactly as you said-replacing Castelletti, with myself taking position as interim 'manager' until things are back in order here. This is in theory supposed to be done bloodlessly-but it seems Castelletti has already gotten some fifty, sixty Family members to believe they must do precisely what he says, irrelevant of the larger chain of command. The Don's were quite clear the common family members are not to be looked down on just because they believed a boss that had steered them well for years. So, a bloodless capture of one of Castelletti's restaurants that's been converted into a near-militarized holdout, all its defenders bearing automatic weaponry, culminating in the execution of Castelletti, that is the first aspect that must be addressed."
"The second?"
>"Simple-the Germans that once followed Barby are starting to believe they can just openly attack the Mafia-they must be most heavily disabused of this notion, before our position here can be said restored. If they must all die for the lesson to be learned, so be it-but one way or another, they must fear us. That is the second aspect, and between the two you know the sum of the job I bring here."
"Resources?"
>"Why, yourself and your faculties-I may step in on dealing with Castelletti himself, but otherwise the Don's want to see what you can do. I will be kind and allow you full access to all our local files and records on the Germans once Castelletti has been dealt with."
"An unofficial audition in a job?"
>"Such labeling would not be wholly inaccurate."
"The pay?"
>"Good-I was starting to doubt you were in fact a mercenary. The pay is for each portion of the job being completed-for resolving Castelletti's issue, Twenty five thousand-for bringing the Germans to heel, forty thousand."
"Somehow seems to me attempting to haggle at this point would be a bad idea."
>"You seem to have a sense of things then. "
" I'm assuming sniping Castelletti-"
>"Completely impractical, yes-he has not been directly seen since holing up by anyone that still reports to us. I believe he intends to continue having food shipped in as if the restaurant was open. As ludicrous as the concept is, I think he means to try and wait it out-or, he is trying to trap you."
"You know, Castelletti's been trying to call me quite a bit recently"
>"One wonders if it has anything to do with his possession of the appropriate hardware to trace calls?"
...Oooh crap, that could have been bad.
"Hence why I didn't pick up, obviously-do you suppose a meeting could be secured?"
>"Possible-but again, I find it unlikely. So, Armas Laine-how do you plan to tackle these contracts?"






How do I plan to tackle Castelletti?
What avenues seem possible to explore for assaulting such a heavily guarded location?

First, we'd need building schematics, just in case Castelletti left sewer access or something else useful open.

Following that... we'll need something to take away their number advantage. I'm split on trying to get the power shut off and Sam Fishering our way through with our thermal/nightvision scopes, using flashbangs or tear gas as a way of getting through the grunts without permanently ending anybody. Maybe a combination of all three?

As a third option, Castelletti is getting food delivered daily. Pay off the delivery guy so we can slip a drug in with the chow. Benzodiazepine is probably the one we want; a soporific that even with an overdose will induce deep unconsciousness, but not death. Although if they combine it with alcohol... badness. And, I mean, Italians. Come on.

>>299783
It would be worth our time to look into acquiring a oc-pepperball gun. Oc-pepperball guns are essentially heavily modified paintball guns built to fire balls filled with CS gas, which is more commonly known as tear gas. Specifically we'll be wanting a Custom Carbine-SX because it has a mount for our scope. Now because it's a law enforcement piece pricing is a little tricky, but it seems like the guns go for two to three hundred dollars with the balls costing about a buck a piece. There shouldn't be a problem with reactions between the sleeping agent since this will essentially just be more tear gas applied directly to anyone who was unaffected or left standing by the grenades.

For even more insurance we could grab a stun gun, one of the fancy police models that can fire a shot or two and act as a contact stun gun. I think we're looking for a 900k King Cobra, they run about seventy dollars. This will be our nonlethal substitute for our mere.

Oh and we really need a gas mask for both the oc-pepperball gun and tear gas grenades, I don't want to be an idiot and walk in without one.

Could see if one of your dealers happens to have any canisters of Agent 15 to pump into the building's ventilation system. Would be pretty easy cleanup as long as you didn't use too much, goons can't do much when they're all busy tripping balls.

>>299806
There are also stun batons if you want a melee weapon with a little reach to replace the mere for this one - they're usually around 18-20 inches long 'blade', plus the handle. Strongest charge (500-800k volts to the Cobra's 900k) is at the tip, but it's electrified for six inches down the baton. They have telescoping models for under a hundred bucks, although how sturdy they are, I don't know.

How about an alternative plan? Instead of putting in Benzodiazepine we put in diuretics or at the very least we put the diuretics into that damn lobster Castelletti seems to enjoy eating if we don't want to make that much of a mess. Now this isn't just to fuck with him, no believe it it or not it's actually how we're going to strategically position him into a position for the kill. Once he gets into the food we've tampered with he'll need to go to the bathroom. Now most bathrooms I've seen usually have some window in them and if not they tend to have thinner walls than other parts of the building. He'll likely have boarded up any windows, but a boarded up window doesn't protect much against an AVT-40 sniper rifle. If there isn't a boarded window we can shoot through we'll need to go shopping, but for something that fires a .50 BMG. How we'll know he's in the bathroom will be by using that unnamed, but very frightened man we just called, have him send in a text when he sees Castelletti go in. We'll use our thermal scope and a copy of the schematics to make sure we get the hit when he goes in.

>>300052
Oh and we'll call it Operation Elvis, if Galileo asks what we plan to do just tell him the name and leave it at that.

>>300052
Gonna go ahead and second this. If the thermal scope doesn't work, we can just shoot above where the schematics say the toilet is.

>>300052
Good idea.

>>300054
Awesome idea.

We could try bribing the waitstaff or chefs or transporters to poison Castelletti, they might not be part of the mob or be able to be convinced to go our way, with Galileo's presence to back up this is an official job. If nothing else we can spike the entire food supply with laxatives or something.

Alternatively, we scare off the trucks-drivers and stop food from going in period, soften them up a little.

Could also work at talking to the seperate members of the family, slowly bring his underlings around to oppose him and undermine his support. Take time, but, effective.

If nothing else, we can try sneaking in at night (Maybe roof access, might be a little complicated to get up there and there might be guards however), try for nonlethal takedowns on the guards, use the scopes on our Mateba's to get through, maybe grab an extra 3-pack of flashbangs. Really, the biggest problem on this is the 'bloodless' portion of the job.

Another idea for sneaking in: Wait until they're distracted by another attack or drive by, if Castelletti sends out men after them again, it'd mean less guards in our way.

Oh, yeah. It's looking like our AA-12 is looking like the best choice for 'main gun' for this, if we don't get a sniping chance this will be close-range fighting, so automatic-shotgun goodness should be quite effective. On top of that, we might be able to grab bean-bag rounds for it, which would increase our less-lethal combat abilities.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/04/29(Fri)22:39 No. 300338 ID: a76809
File 130414194498.jpg - (223.54KB , 700x1031 , Elf confronts Armas.jpg )

Vestra permaneo memoria est, te fio nusquam

>>300052
>>300056
>>300097
"How thick are the walls?"
>"Of which floor, which room?"
"Whichever restrooms are nearest to exterior walls."
>"...What, shoot him on his throne?"
"I'm brainstorming-is it possible or not?"
>"Depends. The first floor restrooms are those of the general restaurant-and are deeply ensconced in the building, too many walls for anything but a cannon to cleanly punch through in one go-so really, as you'd hit caliber levels that would have police calling the [i]military, you could have issue.[/i]"
"what about the second floor?"
>"That's where your plan becomes more viable. Just the exterior wall then the bathroom wall-a high powered rifle could pull this off with reasonably little issue. Of course, if Castelletti is thinking of death by rifle, he's probably not going to use the upstairs bathroom, even if it is his own private one, adjacent to his panic room."
"And what of the witness I provided to the Confessor-is he still within Castelletti's organization?"
>"....No, he is not-he was advised to relocate after providing testimony-and took the offer. There is no mole for you to exploit."
>>299799
"Can I just look at the building schematics then? Would make coming up with ideas easier."
>"As you see I have no such documents with me-I can only offer my thoughts and observations on the blueprints, having witnessed them this morning."
"Okay-is there a sewer access?"
>"You... are aware of the.."
"What you mean those eyeless monsters and all the rest down there? I believe keeping the trip short and to the point would minimize risk-as would enough firepower."
>"Putting aside the issues with attempting a stealthy entry with liberal use of firearms-"
"You know there IS such a thing as suppressed weapons."
>"...Point, I was not actively thinking of your possession of such-then yes, I suppose your plan could work quite well. So, you've brushed up against Sahagin?"
"If by 'brushed up' you mean 'encountered, killed the scouts and legged it before the pack got there' then yes."
>"Well... as to your question, yes indeed there is a sewer access-but to my understanding attempting to manipulate it will be quite conspicuous."
"So I need a distraction while I surface should I go with this plan. ....Well, some tear gas cannisters, a flash bang or two, and the mooks should be properly preoccupied while I slip in. Even if I do make a racket, would be hard to pay attention at that point."
>"What of the wary, the alert? How do you account for the chance a stray bullet from a skilled hand finds your skull?"
"Paying off the delivery drivers and slipping some soporifics-let's say benzodiazepines-and letting that circulate for a day or so before striking should add an extra layer of slowed or otherwise addled wits-and if the dosage is kept low, they might not even know just what they are feeling."
>"If you wish you could finance such bribes from the proposed contract fee so you have no out-of-pocket expenses-I find myself intrigued at what you could accomplish."
"If that's the case-"
>>299806
>>300022
>>300274
Three days later, when Galileo and I once more meet, this time near to Castelletti's, I am somewhat saddened when the Sicilian notes all my requisitions have dropped my prospective pay to $17,500-But as I glance about, noting no less than three rooftop guns for hire, sporting 40mm grenade launchers with tear gas rounds or Oc-pepperball guns as they await the signal. I glance at Castelletti's restaurant, noting the flagging, diminished guards-still gripping weapons even as the building doses of benzo's-

And Agent 15-which for three grand, I was able to get set up to feed into the restaurant's ventilation system thanks to some negotiable technicians.

From my glance to the abode with hallucinating and stupefied mobsters, still resolutely holding their ground, my eyes track down to the sewer grate at my feet, the open manhole-as I yet again review the mental map-thirty paces straight, turn left, ten paces, turn right, fifteen paces and there it is-or so I hope. I check the Mateba's in their inbuilt holsters on either hip, hidden in my cargo pockets, then check my sleeves to see the judges are not caught, lastly checking the Glock tucked into the back of my pants-everything in place. I nod to Galileo, who begins watching his golden wristwatch, watching as a minute begins to tick away.

I shoulder my guitar case, Keihäs, the AVT-40 and the AA-12 all within-

And drop down into the tops of Istanbul's underworld, feet already pounding as I count away my steps. Thirty paces... then left.... then ten... then right.... and here it is, ladders leading up-with a ruckus already echoing down from above-the contractors began their brage, lobbing tear gas in through every opening they can shoot at. I pull out one of four flash bangs (having gotten another trio), priming it as I brace myself to heave open the heavy trap door-
In one solid surge of motion I lever it open a third of a foot, rising like a serpent as my hand flickers out, the readied explosive ghosting across the floor as I sink back down just as someone begins to react to my presence-

The metal door is outlined in bright, piercing light that sears even through my eyelids before fading-

All the same my discomfort is NOTHING to those above, who blinded, deafened, bombarded with tear gas, dazed with soporifics and drugged partly out of their minds don't even notice me surging out of the trap-door. My eyes rove about, balaclava and goggles both in place to keep myself free of the gas' effects-though if I dawdle the Agent-12 could sink its teeth in me. ...Castelletti is not on the first floor-so I move to ascend the stairs. I crest the new story and walk down a narrow hallway, opening the only door before me-

It opens on a wood-panelled room, hot-tubs and hookahs both in ample presence, a place to relax in some thirty feet across, with but one other door on the far side.

Before me stands an unnaturally thin man, hair shifting and flowing as if both in water and ruffled by the breeze-pointed[./i] ears peeking out from beneath his mane. At his hip he bears a saber-a rapier-while his body is clad not in cloth, but in bronze and silver, a glimmering set of platemail his garb. Despite having no helmet or protection from the Agent 12 or the teargas, the swordsman standing before me looks unperturbed as he inclines his head at me.

>"The merry mayhem about us was wrought by your plans, your actions, is that not so? Prithee, thou taste for chaos is applaudable-Dost thou be a mortal champion of Eris? Perhaps Seth? ....No, thou smacks of [i]Loki.... what say ye mortal, come ye as representative of something greater, or as your own herald alone?"

...Right that tears it this is a Sidhe, and Elf-I think a Wyldfae, don't see anything to indicate one of the two opposed Courts-and it spoke of GODS as if they were drinking comrades.

>"...Perhaps thou attention to the professional spirit is best: Thou hast a job thou most dearly wish to see done-just as a bond of service-of protection-must be honored. The brouhaha you brought was most enjoyable-now defend yourself."

With a sound disturbingly like a waterfall and an avalance mashed together, the elf draws his sword, its slender blade flickering with ghostly fire as he blocks my way onward to Castelletti. I let the guitar case slip off my back to thump to the ground-the impact throwing the case open.

Both of my hands are free, and my foe is twenty feet away.






What should I do?
What should I shoot with, and where should I shoot? (I need a 1d100 roll for each bullet fired)

rolled 18, 19, 84 = 121

---

"I admit I like what I've heard of the Bound God, but I work for myself. How did Castelletti ever afford something like you?"

Don't wait for an answer, immediately drop down to one knee and grab Keihas before you finish talking (see if we can get an Ambush bonus). Accuracy seems a useful sort of thing at the moment, and tungsten cored silver rounds aren't cold iron, but they might be better than lead.

Fire one shot center mass; aim so that if the elf chooses to dodge, the bullet goes on and shoots the lock out of the door (yay supernatural accuracy), then another shot at his unarmored face.

If he isn't very inconvenienced by bullets, well... maybe a flashbang will irritate those large ears and keen eyes of his.

First roll: center mass, second roll: Face, third roll (if needed): Flashbang.

Oh, and if the elf gets within melee range of us while we do this, we might get to try out the face-bashing aspect of our rifle, not to mention it'll serve as a decent parrying tool if need-be.

rolled 38, 86, 23, 36, 71 = 254

---

AA-12, five rounds rapid. Go for each of the knees, the sword hand, and two more into center of mass. Rolls in order of stated targets.

rolled 45, 68, 1 = 114

---

Screw this. I say we tell the elf we don't plan to kill him.

"Hold on a second. Not here to kill the guy, but give him one last chance to step-down before the family decides to send in their own supernatural bull-shit, and as good as you may be, you know his mortal ass will be screwed if that happens. In the interest of doing your job, why don't you let me do mine."

And then if we get up there, when we see him

"Castelletti, long time no see. I'm here to give you one last chance to ste"-BangBangBang

"Fine."

Open fire with the AA. Fuck this shithead, you have the Bane.

rolled 91, 7, 22, 68, 28, 65, 99, 18, 47, 83, 4, 88 = 620

---

>>300390

>Galileo's Catchphrase: Vestra permaneo memoria est, te fio nusquam

>>300357
[PLANNED SHOT: 018/100, 19/100, 084/100]
Loki? I know that one at least-the Trickster god, father of Jörmungandr and Fenrir, schemer, manipulator.... okay, I think I know enough to-
"I admit I like what I've heard of the Bound God, but I work for myself. How did Castelletti ever afford something like yo-"
There is a glimmering blade darting for the hollow of my throat, elf already before me-

[AMBUSH EXPERT Trait employed!]
I don't even blink, body already starting to tingle as adrenaline surges-
[TAIAHAN RIFLEPLAY Trait employed!]
I sway back, foot hooking beneath Keihäs as I loft it into my hands, the gun whirling as I brace myself-

The blade whispers past my throat, missing by inches as it severs my steel bayonet during interception. Unperturbed, I whip the rifle forward, slamming the blood-stained stock against his chest with all my weight, pushing up and away-the armor-clad elf tumbling into the air as I take a knee and aim.

FIRST SHOT
(18+4)22%
My first shot goes wide-elf's starting to control it's tumble, got to work the bolt fast-
SECOND SHOT
(19+4)23%
My second shot, just a hair before the elf lands feet-first, grazes the silvered copper armor midthigh-but does no more than scrape the finish. The elf begins to smirk as it braces to surge back into motion.
FLASHBANG
(84+4)88%
Which is why I was already hastily priming a flashbang that I just now lobbed forward, my last glimpsed showing a puzzled expression on those aquiline features before my arm rises and I squint-

My ears ring after the pressure wave, but my vision is completely functional.

The elf had no idea what it was, and WATCHED the thing-clutching at its eyes in agony now with its free hand. I take a brief moment to slap off the Finnish bayonet on Keihäs and substitute my mere pounamu-
>>300361
>>300390
>>300391
[PLANNED AUTO-SHOT(X17)[32 round drum depletes to 15]: 38-86-23-36-71-91-7-22-68-28-65-99-18-47-83-4-88]

"Fine."

I pick up the AA-12 I jacked from O'Connor's corpse a few days ago, slotting in the 32-round drum magazine-And open up.

I've never shot an AA-12 before-I had thought, as an automatic shotgun, there would be a whole mess of recoil-there isn't. A good thing-let's me keep my shooting tight and focused instead of fighting kick.

THIRD SHOT
(38+5)43%
First round out the barrel zooms towards the elf's right knee-and is picked out of the air by that darting sword, cloven metal flying-
FORTH SHOT
(86+5)91%
He isn't fast enough, or maybe wasn't expecting my second shot to come so quickly-and it catches him square in his right knee-iron flechettes tearing through his armor with spurts of prismatic blood that catches fire in the air-the opening eyes of the elf glimmering in pain and hate as he looks my way.
FIFTH SHOT
(23+5)28%
The elf leaps into the air and I'm a hair too slow tracking it, the first shot going low-
SIXTH SHOT
(36+5)41%
Thankfully with the gimped leg the elf's rush is slower, I squeeze off another shot-closer, but he's almost-
SEVENTH SHOT
(71+5)76%
The next round catches the elf's wounded leg at the foot-and I realize it to be a bolo round, the metal wire for once lined up-and cutting into the chain over the ankle joint, more of that glowing, burning blood flowing as the elf grits its teeth, shoving the sword down as if to impale me-
EIGHTH SHOT
(91+5)96%
It seems he was expecting me to flinch, or jerk back, or something-so my CONTINUED fire catches him in the upper chest, flechette round tearing a few gouges out of his lower neck as a pair manage to hit squarely and penetrate his shoulder armor-[iron needles shouldn't be able to do that to full metal armor]-his sword jerking wide again as he starts reeling back-
NINTH SHOT
(7+5)12%
Like a knucklehead, I forget to account for his stupid speed, and my follow-up falls short, missing him entirely-
TENTH SHOT
(22+5)27%
The elf seems to be getting it, and even when I line the barrel back up he darts aside, moving away from my next shot-which I notice EXPLODES as it hits the wood-paneled wall, holy shit!
ELEVENTH SHOT
(68+5)73%
The next round-another bolo-manages to snag the elf's right elbow as it's laimed leg further buckles beneath it mid-evasion, the impact knocking it into a roll as I keep up the pressure. I'm sure as SHIT not letting something that can move fifteen feet in the blink of an eye so much as breathe while it's a potential threat.
TWELFTH SHOT
(28+5)33%
The elf keeps moving through its pain, dashing at the wall as my next round-flechettes-shatter a hookah-
THIRTEENTH SHOT
(65+5)70%
I keep the bullet storm rolling, a round of shot catching the elf in the chest-most of the pellets burying into the metal breastplate, while several find nooks and crannies to get through, as I see that glimmering blood further flow-the elf pushes through it, gets it's good foot against the wall and jumps straight at me with every bit of blinding speed it had before.
FORTEENTH SHOT
(99+5)100%
I almost feel sorry for it as the Frag-12 round catches it square in the chest, explosively reversing his momentum as blood flies. The elf crashes to the ground, smoke coming from burning flesh in the crater that was it's chest as it struggles to rise-
FIFTEENTH SHOT
(18+5)23%
With a fortitude that boggles my mind, the elf throws itself out of the massive pool of blood it rest in, dodging the bolo round that ricochets into a sauna's control panel-
SIXTEENTH SHOT
(47+5)52%
My next shot catches the elf in the ass, flechette rounds perforating his armor and killing what little mobility he had left-
SEVENTEENTH SHOT
(83+5)52%
My next blast of shot catches the elf in the shoulder, rolling him over without me needing to get near him-that chromatic blood bubbles on his lips as his eyes meet mine again, hand still clutching his sword-
EIGHTEENTH SHOT
(4+5)9%
The gun jams-thank god that didn't happen earlier, and I keep my eye on my foe as I clear the chamber, calmly reloading the same round as I confirm my suspicion-this drum was chambered with four rounds alternating, bolo-flechette-shot-frag-12 in order-and why would I waste a perfectly good grenade round?


"Care to surrender?"
The elf says nothing.
"Have it your way."
NINETEENTH SHOT
(88+5)93%
The Frag-12 catches the elf full in the face from ten feet away.

The elf now has no face.

In face he is doing an incredible impression of the headless horseman. I start to giggle, the surging adrenaline and carefully controlled panic catching up to me and finally finding a vent. My eyes take in the room, trashed by our hot and heavy brawl-and I spot that rapier, it's blade now visible as seeming glass, perpetually coated in oil to give a sheen reminiscent of a soap bubble no matter how the light hits it. I claim the elf's sheathe, and carefully replace the blade before loading it into my guitar case-along with the AA-12 and Keihäs, closing the whole assemblage back up, prize secured-a Fae weapon....

I shake my head as I hear an oh-so familiar voice calling out from the door leading onward-Castelletti.

>"....Allenaethos?"

I grin as I sling the case back over my shoulder, pulling out the Thermal Scope Mateba and training it on the doorframe-Castelletti's silhouette faintly visible.

"Knock knock Castelletti."

>[Limit of 1d100 roll per poster, I can take a maximum of six. Specify what body areas of a standing man would be targeted.]
Or do I have a different plan than simply gunning him down through the door?
Do I maybe want to try to talk him into a surrender-I bet that would impress Galileo the most.

rolled 18 = 18

---

Kick the door down.
"AVON CALLING~!"

SHOOT THE BOLO AT HIS NECK.

CLAIM HIS HEAD.

rolled 61 = 61

---

Take a shot at his head, but this is probably a trap. I say we kick in the door.

rolled 96 = 96

---

>>300450
>>300456
...Don't kick down the door, it'll just give him a free shot at us with whatever gun he has. Just shoot at his center of mass through the doorway. Well, that, or, if you suspect him of having a bullet-proof vest or something, try shooting around that at his legs or something, he should bleed out afterwards. Also, move to the side in case he shoots back through the door at you. In fact, be careful of him shooting through the wall at you too.

>>300460
Well, that, or we shoot out the lock and hinges of the doorway to bust it down, throw a flashbang in, seems a pretty good way to take him alive.

>>300460
Taking him out at the knees seems about right. Once he's in a fuckton of pain and de-fanged, we can decide whether to kill him or take him alive.

"Sorry Castelletti, your secretary was giving me the runaround. I had to be... persuasive. I find that there's not much more persuasive than a gun to the face. Case in point."

Point the matebas between his eyes.

"The bosses aren't happy with you, Castelletti. So, I'll give you an option - you can come with me back to meet their representative. Who knows, maybe you can talk him around to your way of thinking. Or, I can do to you what I did to Allenaethos."

And try and find out where he found an elf, cuz I don't think they go in for mercenary work much.

Before we leave, if we can't take the elf back with us - that would probably impress Gallileo, too - at least dunk the Keihas's stock in that glowing blood. Bet it has interesting properties in an already bloodthirsty weapon.

rolled 58 = 58

---

Shoot through the door. And I'll say legs, to keep the guy from running away easily. We're not taking him alive, because we set him up and we don't want the mafia finding that out. Sure, he might not know it, but I don't like taking the chance.

Definitely dip Keihas in the Elf blood, but I think maybe we should see if we've got anything that'll let us take some with us. I want to coat something iron in it eventually, preferably the metal bits of a gun.

rolled 80 = 80

---

Fuck being smug and arrogant.

Throw in a flashbang just for good measure.

Aim for the head when shooting.

No talking.

I'd go for the knee-cap option, using the rifle at an oblique angle.

On the Elf, you want to use your mere pounamu to cut out his heart for later consumption. You should honour your enemy by taking his strength, some of your ancestors might say, but you might as well be pragmatic.

If you think you can get away with it, wrap the elf's entire body in a rug and carry it out. The bones might make fine grips for pistols, or a stock for a rifle or shotgun.

rolled 91 = 91

---

I'd go for the knee-cap option, using the rifle at an oblique angle.

On the Elf, you want to use your mere pounamu to cut out his heart for later consumption. You should honour your enemy by taking his strength, some of your ancestors might say, but you might as well be pragmatic.

If you think you can get away with it, wrap the elf's entire body in a rug and carry it out. The bones might make fine grips for pistols, or a stock for a rifle or shotgun.

rolled 100, 87 = 187

---

Manually cycle the shotgun's action until you're on another grenade. Demand that he surrender. If he doesn't, blow the door off its hinges and put a bolo in his neck.

>>300491
Eat his heart now! Eat his courage, his rich, tasty courage.
Don't attempt to take the elf body, too much work, too much chance of detection. We're not out of the clear yet, after all.

>>300489
This seems safest, so go for it.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/05/01(Sun)14:56 No. 300688 ID: a76809
File 130428697211.jpg - (89.39KB , 985x735 , Break Action Single Fire Pistol.jpg )

>>300450
[PLANNED SHOT: 018/100]
For a moment my mind is filled with my playing the archetypal storm trooper, thundering through the doorframe with my AA-12 and a bellow-but I see many potential snags with this plan. He could shoot me while I kick the door down. Shouting would make my attack easier to track, and taking the time to take out and reload the thing would be considerable. I keep thinking.
[PLAN SCRATCH]
>>300456
[PLANNED SHOT: 061/100]
The door does need to go-a faint thermal image is little to work on-and a bullet to the head seems a fine idea-but still, as the lone attacker on a defender on their home turf I am at a severe disadvantage-I need to keep layering up my plan, putting in failsafes and redundancies enough my personal risk is minimal.
>>300460
[PLANNED SHOT: 096/100]
Hm. A shot to the knee would be just about guaranteed penetration-as one never knows, he could be wearing body armor and a helmet, the image is too blurry to tell-as would considering he too can shoot through doors-potentially walls, with the right guns. For all I know, he could have a thermal scope of his own. I resolve to strike and move.
>>300488
[PLANNED SHOT: 058/100]
...Two bullets, one for each leg seems a fine idea. Then I dodge away to my guitar case, get Keihäs, and while I wait out his potential retort, dip the stock in the Elf's blood. I realized why I was shooting so shittily-I hadn't bashed in any skulls, taken any lives with the rifle for more than a week, its enchantments growing dormant. Perhaps this could wake it.
>>300492
[PLANNED SHOT: 091/100
Then, with my rifle in theory recharged, I take a final shot at his legs, which should, if he's steadied himself, re-incapacitate him.
>>300489
[PLANNED SHOT: 080/100]
Then, the door thoroughly damaged by the gunfire, I drop Keihäs, re-equip the Mateba, kick the door in while lobbing a flashbang in and ducking aside, to immediately charge after detonation, looking to put a bullet in his head. ...With my earlier plan, that would make a double tap-survival seems impossible at that point. ...Plan seems solid-let's do this!

I don't utter a single word as I take aim at the thermal image-
[FIRST AND SECOND SHOT]
(96+7)100%
The first bullet cores cleanly through the thermal image's right knee-I physically SEE a hole in the heat image-
(058+6)64%
I get a glimpse of the second bullet grazing the left knee as Castelletti screams while I dodge away, already moving-

Even as Castelletti howls, I hear a gun's hammer being cocked-I crouch down lower as I throw myself farther from the door while-

The entire doorframe explodes into a shower of splinters and shards of wood ignited by the friction of impact, a veritable firestorm thundering through where I was but a moment ago, carrying with it a pervasive sense of death and dread. The firestorm barrels through, shattering a stone-walled sauna before it finally burns itself out on the far wall-The imprint of a skull gouged into the heavy wood paneling at the center of where that fireball impacted-what the hell did Castelletti just shoot?

I hear a gun being broken open, a shell being ejected amidst grunts of pain and frothing hateful mutters-I have to give him credit for keeping his wits about him so well with a leg shot out. I reholster the Mateba, yanking Keihäs free of the guitar case-and jamming it's wooden stock into the elf's cored out chest, shoving it deep into the pooled heartsblood in the crater-

The elf's body twitches and writhes, skin shriveling, body drying to a husk as a brilliant, blood burgundy sheen climbs up the stock to tinge every bit of wood in my rifle. I ignore the strangeness of the event, shouldering the rifle as I aim at the visible Castelletti, a truly massive break-action single shot pistol in his hand, bracing himself with the leg I only grazed-
[THIRD SHOT]
(91+10+5)106%
With the rifle round's impact I remove Castelletti's left leg at the knee, finishing what I started with the Mateba, his body tumbling back as his gun drops from his hands. I drop the rifle and draw my other Mateba as I dart forward, low and swift.
[FOURTH AND FIFTH SHOT]
(61+5)66%
From six feet away from Castelletti's maimed, heavily bleeding and unarmed form, I carefully line up my gun and squeeze the trigger, the first round going just below his right eye as he tries to jerk away, whipping his head about in a painful arc as blood and bone fly-
(80+6)86%
The second round catches him in his temple, boring a gory path straight through his skull as his now limp body flops back onto the ground. I eye the gun he shot at me with-noting it a heavily customized Pfiefer-Zeliska single-shot hunting pistol, chambered to accept those monstrous Nitro Express rounds. I claim the gun, repack my rifle and newest trophy within my guitar case-which is now starting to get quite heavy with all the things I'm keeping in it-before I turn a careful ear to the stairs back to the first floor-I still hear shouts of confusion and pain, the addled mobsters are still too tied up in their delirium and the tear gas to take action. Not as clean as it could have been-but no dead mobsters save Castelletti. I pull out my phone and call the number Galileo gave me.
>"Status?"
"Target down, as well as third party individual-no others wounded."
>"Hm.... put him down rather hard, didn't you?"

I start as I hear Mr. Savoy's voice from right behind me, whirling about to see him crouched over Castelletti, inspecting the corpse before casting an eye at the elf.
>"I wondered why I heard what sounded like unusually heavy ordinance being used-certainly an effective way to mitigate that damned speed most fae have."
Galileo reaches into his impeccably crisp, money-green suit's breast pocket, and tosses a thick manilla envelope my way.
>"The pay, minus the cost of what you ordered. I have a great deal of cleanup to do here, and you job is done-please do leave before the police arrive."
"So about the oth-"
>"You can choose to start the other job right away or wait a few days."
"Alright-gone."

I make my way out of the restaurant, noting the first floor to be packed with unfamiliar faces in gas-masks corralling the addled mobsters, leading them away-and any that meet my gaze nod in recognition-Savoy's men, then. I make it two blocks away before I hear the sirens going-and I keep walking.

I finally make it back home, and stash my new funds into my safe, idly thinking soon enough I'll have enough I could look into getting a numbered account.

[FUNDS:----- US$000,068,788.52






So now what?
I could start the job to scare off the Germans-or I could spend some of this money on any number of things.
I could also start attending Constanz's gym more regularly and really cement my grasp of Krav Maga, and maybe schedule some lessons in Sambo.
Or I could do something else.
Maybe I should by a vehicle? I know how to drive all manner of cars, trucks and bikes, and having to use public transit sucks sometimes....

Haha! ANOTHER awesome gun. Might want to get it checked out by a magical authority - it seemed to have some weird thing on it. Let's head home and do some scheming! Go over our entire inventory, clean our guns and count up our ammo.

Those flashbangs sure are handy. Might want to buy a little stockpile.

Once you go over the inventory, case the territory of the guys we're supposed to scare. look for things like large buildings, priority targets, living areas - anywhere a large prescence would be needed at all times - it's worthless to put on a show without an audience.


Here is what I am thinking: Amateur demolition, anyone?

How about we go ahead and buy magical armor and protection amulets? (if there are such things)

If there aren't, at least we could get a regular best-quality armor which protects as much of the body as possible.

Examine the pistol you got, I think it is magical in nature.
I'm also going ahead and vote against selling this thing. We might need it when killing supernatural stuff.

Also examine your rifle. I think that by dipping it into Elven blood you not only recharged it but also permanently upgraded it.

>>300688
>So now what?

You have quire possibly made enemies today, when you killed the elf, and possibly gained a pair of quite unique weapons.

You should get in touch with Arkvad. Elves originate in Scandinavian folklore after all, so he might be able to give you the rundown. He may also be able to do the work to modify the elf's sabre into a sword bayonet.

If you do that, it might be worth seeing if there's a jukendo school in Istanbul.

>>300695
I recommend the Dragon Skin ballistic vest put out by Pinnacle Armor. It's made with overlapping circular discs of silicone carbide ceramic, like ye olde scale mail. Good protection, but with a good range of movement in case we need to run from more sahaguin.

The SOV 2000 has certified Level III protection (rifles, most grenades), the SOV 3000 has level IV (armor-piercing rifle rounds), and they have another version unavailable to the public with (supposedly) "level V" protection. And it only weighs about 5.5 pounds and will set you back around 5 grand.

It's good stuff. The CIA and some special forces in Iraq use it. I'm unsure if we should go for the easiest concealable version which is just the vest, or for the somewhat bulkier version that protects neck to groin and upper arms.

Putting in some more hours with Krav Maga is good, but rather than start learning Combat Sambo I'd like to see if they offer anything to better handle your mere pounamu. Mau Rakau would be ideal (being the Maori style for using clubs), but anything Crash Course instructors teach using clubs, machetes or similar weapons would do. Kapap does stick fighting, for example, and might be close enough for our purpose.

For a car, consider the Ford Fiesta. It's got a lot of space for a small car (hatch for weapons, bodies... you know, whatever), and it's the third most popular selling car in Turkey right now so there should be plenty of them on the road. Though it does only have 120 horse, so we might want something with a little more power. A used 2011 will run us around 12-15k.

>>300867
....I think it may be time to call my old Ranger Drill Sergeant, Edward Riker. I could get body armor from him, of that I'm fairly certain-I might be able to get more drum magazines for the AA-12. But honestly-between Castelletti's gun of DOOM-which I note he had managed to reload, so I have a round of whatever the hell he was shooting-and the elf's stupid speed, I have been made abundantly aware that if I want to really be able to go far in these missions-I will need body armor, and damned good armor at that. What a happy coincidence I now have money. I search through my contact list, and find Riker's number. I check the clock and adjust for the time difference-he should be awake. I call, with Riker picking up his phone on the fifth ring, the same as he has every single time I've ever called him.
>"Armas-haven't heard from you for a while-how have you been?"
"Trying to make life a bit less exciting."
>"Really? I heard you left the service."
"Private sector-which is actually why I'm calling."
>"Keep talking."
"The guy I'm working for right now is a bit of a nut-wants to research the old catecombs and whatnot beneath Istanbul."
>"Istanbul? That old town?"
"Exactly-and honestly, I've been running into some wierd shit keeping the researcher safe-feel like I could use something to keep me safe."
>"Now, when you say weird..."
"I mean that guys with guns are the least of my concerns."
>"...So what kind of creatures HAVE you encountered yet?"
"Welp, these scaly, slimy eyeless freaks that are all mouth and claws, hunt in packs-"
>"Sahagins-yeah, sounds like you picked a real gem of an employer-what's he researching?"
"Honestly I don't really know-something about proving some theories of when the city changed ownership from one empire to the next."
>"...Yeah, sounds like some bad luck there. Okay, so what are you looking for, then?"
"Firstly, body armor-and I mean a whole mess of it. IIIa compliant ballistic armor for my legs, shoulders and groin, a concealable IV rated vest-whichever one allows the most range of motion, plus Soft trauma packs for each bit of armor-"
>"Probably a good idea, given how many crawlies have way too much strength."
"And then here's the kicker-on top of all that, I am all SORTS of interested in the Dragon Skin ballistic vest-in particular the level V variant."
>"The one that doesn't exist."
"Doesn't officially exist-just like Sahagin don't exist."
>"Point-okay, I can in fact put together such a care pack for you-we still have your fitting dimensions from training, I can even make sure the Dragon Skin vest is sized to fit over the concealable vest-I assume that to be you purpose here?"
"Yup."
>"Okay, that's fine-you ARE aware how much the Dragon Skin is going to add to the cost of all this, right?"
"Hundred for the groin, two fifty for the leggings, eight hundred for the vest and shoulders, five grand for the Dragon Skin-are my numbers in range here?"
>"Okay kid, just making sure you know what price range you're looking at.
For now, I decide not to try and get AA-12 drums. No need to arouse Riker's suspicion-though even with me suspecting it, the fact Riker knows of the supernatural is still a bit of a surprise.
"So-can you ballpark a price?"
>"Not right now-I can send a quote as a text, if you want."
"I'd appreciate it."

Ten minutes later I'm looking at a number-and I call back Riker to iron out payment for this personal shipment. Soon enough, plans have been set in motion-and barring any complications, my shipment will be delivered in a week.

[FUNDS:----- US$000,062,458.52]

I spend the rest of the day at Constanz's gym, catching up with Ahmad, Hafaz and Shaya (Hadar and Yoni being once more out of town) and in general working to further solidify my grasp of Krav Maga-I'm starting to have brief bouts where I can just act without having to consciously pick a particular attack or maneuver, and I'm finally starting to integrate the combat style into my other 'formal' unarmed combat style-LINE. After showing the lads to the Pitstop and introducing them to the wondrous mead available there, I spend the night contemplating what I learned in my lessons in martial craft today-and I also consider my own performance-I've chosen to play a dangerous game, and I've made it clear I will raise the stakes as I high as I must to win. I may be new to this field, this combination of intrigue, deceit, bullets and blood, cash and corruption-but I believe I have a way to navigate such a world.

>ARMAS HAS UNLOCKED A NEW TRAIT: MILITARISTIC MACHIAVELLIAN MANIPULATOR
>-This trait predisposes Armas to forming roundabout, cunning and subtly harmful plans with which to lay low enemies with greater resources at their command.
>-Armas is more inclined to play forces against each other to reduce the number of threats he personally will have to face.
>-Armas feel comfortable lying and misrepresenting the truth-while not a master deceiver, he can fool most individuals with sufficiently well-thought out deceptions. (Leaving this to me rather than coming up with the lie yourself gambles on how effective I think Armas should be at the moment.)
>-Where possible, in any situation where Armas is considerably outnumbered, he will, in the planning state, seek whichever plans involve him directly engaging the least number of opponents, and in general gravitate towards plans that are personally less risky.
>-When actively in a given combat situation, Armas is prone to using overwhelming force as fast as possible in an effort to overwhelm and crush opponents before they can become notable threats.
>-Thanks to years in the military in multiple branches, Armas is predisposed to plans that involve flash bangs, explosives, or debilitating gas to shape the battlefield before attempting personal entry.

The next day comes, and I again hit Constanz's gym Only Shaya is around-and we cut the practice short after four hours, when he has to go to work-by the time he leaves I feel I made a bit more progress in imprinting Krav Maga and its tenants into my bones, right alongside LINE. I note that one of the Russian Sambo instructors is here again, and manage to secure such tutelage for myself. Five hours later I leave the gym battered and bruised, chagrined that I let my progress with Krav Maga make me think I was performing equally well with Sambo. Note to self-if you are spending scores of hours on something, of COURSE you are going to get better, as opposed to something only a handful were spent on. I resolve to step up my training-as I have a feeling having genuinely formidable hand to hand skills could open up a slew of options for how I approach the German job.

>>300703
I decide to call Arkvad after finishing my evening meal-and I explain to him my encounter with an elf, and what happened with the rifle. There is a lengthy pause, before the aged pure-blooded Finn carefully respondes.
>"...Well, for starters I would NOT go around bragging about killing the elf-even if it was wyld fae, unassociated with Summer or Winter, it could still have plenty of friends who would love to say hi to it's killer. As to the rifle itself... honestly, I couldn't tell you off the top of my head. I'd need to do some research on the subject-but I can tell you that there is no reason to NOT use the elf's sword as a bayonet-rejoining the sword with the blood of its owner can only lead to good things, from your perspective-and no, I don't know specifically what would happen, just that it would be advantageous to you. ...Had a chance to check up on the gun connoisseur yet?"
"I trust you will believe me when I say I've been most busy."
>"Well, that's all I got for now-I'll call when I have more for you."

After I finish my conversation with Arkvad, I spend the next two hours combing the city's assorted gyms and dojos-until I find an old Japanese school that teaches Jukendo-the school is not at all well known-and judging by google maps picture of the place, it's not had the best business recently-but I don't see anything else remotely close to being useful to learn for using a rifle like a spear and club alike.

>>300695
[How about you go ahead and say where Armas would get magical armor and amulets? If you're gonna say Arkvad at Holland & Holland, NOPE, he's an ARMS trader, specializes in weapons and would have nothing to sell in this field. And, since Armas doesn't HAVE any other contacts that sell enchanted equipment.... Basically, if you want Armas to do something, you have to show that you have a plan for HOW he will make that happen. This would be like saying 'hack into the CIA's main server'. A bit more detail is required.]

>>300691
I'm finally taking some time to inspect Castelletti's personal Pfiefer-Zeliska pistol when my phone rings-It's Lo Fang.
"Laine."
>"The job I mentioned coming soon has, in fact, arrived."
"The job being?"
>"How do you feel about boats, Mr. Laine?"

Turns out the Triads have a problem-one of their shipments is late. The cargo vessel bringing the shipment in is dead in the water some fifty miles out-and the Triad want me to lead a five-man team onto the seemingly derelict vessel and determine what happened to the crew, and secure the vessel so Triad sailors can board and get the vessel into the docks. Pay is twenty thousand-and I asked, Labombard will NOT be part of my team, it will simply be a hit-squad of four Triad gunmen that I will lead, nothing more.


...Of course, this job comes BEFORE my shipment of body armor can have any chance to arrive...




So what should I say or do?
Should I accept the job?
(Please prioritize Armas' martial study, and indicate between Krav Maga, Sambo and Jukendo which he should treat as primary, which secondary, and which tertiary)

>>300895
>So what should I say or do?
Respond politely. Ask for a briefing on the more unusual inhabitants of the Bosphorus, and if there's anything else you should know about the shipment.
>Should I accept the job?
Yes. If you can, you should get the alterations to the elven sabre to serve as a sword bayonet done first.
>(Please prioritize Armas' martial study, and indicate between Krav Maga, Sambo and Jukendo which he should treat as primary, which secondary, and which tertiary)
1: Jukendo. See if the teacher can teach you the original non watered down version, jukenjitsu. As a side note, the big advantage of sword bayonets over spear bayonets is that you don't use them as spears, but as glaives, making use of the cutting edge.

2: Sambo

3: Krav Maga

>>300898
Sounds like a good plan. I bet the sea has something like the sahaguin in it, at least. Mer-people or sirens, maybe (invest in a pair of earplugs, at least, if this is a genuine possibility). The Bosphorus is basically Jason & the Argonauts territory: harpies, Symplegades, and such. Plus there's a submarine channel (undersea river) in the straight, who knows what's down there?

>(Please prioritize Armas' martial study, and indicate between Krav Maga, Sambo and Jukendo which he should treat as primary, which secondary, and which tertiary)
1. Jukendo (Jukenjitsu), 2. Krav Maga, 3. Combat Sambo
Better to be a master of Krav Maga than a middling student of two styles, in my opinion. Plus, lets us hang out with the four (or was it six?) Krav Maga experts more often; that might come in handy, someday, considering they're ex-military and all. And maybe in a similar line of work as we, considering they're 'out of town' regularly.

On the subject of a car, IRC consensus is that we'd prefer something with some room rather than small and inconspicuous. The GMC Vandura seems the popular choice; big and roomy, only two windows in the front so we have the option of some... nonstandard plating and so on. The 1994 model can be found used for under 5 grand, so it's a bargain, too.

Just as a side note: If we ever hit the big times (and wanted to kick subtlety to the curb), the Turkish Otokar Cobra runs around 150 grand, offers protection against everything from RPGs to artillery fire to anti-tank mines, and can mount anything from 20mm cannons to grenade launchers to surface-to-air missiles. Also, it's an amphibious vehicle, so it can basically turn into a boat when you want it to. Just sayin'.

>>300999
> Sirens
Possibly best to go with a noise cancelling headset linked to a short range radio. That way, we can leave the noise cancellation off until it becomes necessary, and still communicate with our team.

We should also take the scopes.

Beofre going, we should meet up with the team and do some basic familiarisation exercise, and make sure they also have hands-free radios. Going in cold is a bad idea - if you can get the layout for ships of that class which you and the team can study it would help.

>Preparations:

Noise cancelling headphones worked into a headset that works as a radio. Buy them for everyone, explaining the why of it: There could be sirens, and we want to be as coordinated as possible.

Bring along Keihas (To dip in special blood) and the Matebas with the speedloaders. Buy a gun made to work underwater, and flares, or NV/Thermal scopes.

Also, most underwater nasties try to drag you down - bring the sabre and something to help you breathe underwater, just in case of, say, Kelpies, or similar bullshit.

Consider getting one or two WASP knives for underwater work, the utility thereof should be rather obvious. Also potentially a limpet mine or two with a radio detonator to set on the ship's hull as a distraction/scuttling measure if need be, if your explosives dealer has any about. CS grenades would be good too, as well as another set of flashbangs.

...Also get some light sticks and/or light amplification goggles, shit may be dark in there. Oh, reminds me, bring your flare gun and life vest along since, y'know, water.

Personal arms-wise, apart from the WASP knives and possibly the sword, I suggest the Matebas, the new single-shot pistol for shits and giggles, and something good for CQB like the AA-12 or maybe a decent submachine gun like a P90 if you can get hold of one, else go for an Uzi with extended magazine since they're relatively common. A long rifle will be more of a disadvantage in tight quarters.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/05/02(Mon)22:19 No. 301092 ID: a76809
File 130439998422.jpg - (51.71KB , 625x468 , Encantado Threat Detected.jpg )

>>300989
>>300999
>>301001
"Well, why not fill me in on which of the more unusual inhabitants of the Bosphorus I'll be most likely to encounter in that particular area. We talking some sort of Sahagin, sirens, harpies, kelpies-the list goes on."
>"...True enough, Mr. Laine. In that particular area Kelpies are indeed a problem, as they are all throughout the Bosphorus-though a sufficiently violent response can usually drive away all but the largest of groups. Sirens have not been seen in that area for longer than I've been alive-and I'm older than I look. Harpies... those are likewise a threat, the same as Kelpies-and able to be handled similarly."
"A place this steeped in lore-groups of Kelpies and Harpies can't be all I could have to worry about."
>"If I did not tell you the first time you asked, why would I offer more now?"
"Because, say, if I get killed because I don't know an Abaia or Namazu is living in the area, then your squad lost at least a fifth of it's ability-so why let an information gap potentially prevent you from recovering your cargo?"
>"...Varied interests, for one so young."
"I'm younger than I-"
>"No. You are not... but your adherence to flippant joviality is recognized as what it is, and not as a bold-faced attempt to lie. Very well: Hippocamps do roam these parts, the Bosphorus straits as a whole, and the general zone you will be deployed in."
"Hippocamps are herbivorous and non-violent unless actively attacked-why would their presence matter?"
>"Because it drew predators that rather enjoy their high quality flesh: Encantado"
"Encantado-are you kidding me? Those portugese shapeshifters?"
>"...On this subject, I think, your sources have failed you. While Encantado do indeed come from Portugese lore, they fabricated the legends of them being wondrous beings from beneath the water, travelling from a paradise-Encantado are solitary hunters, cunning beings that can take on the appearance of any human sharing a gender with them-this is why, of the four triads going with you, one will be male, two female, and one in possession of abberant enough sexual organs and self-perception that they are as close to nongendered as possible-and thus as close to un-mimicable, from the Encantado's standpoint, as possible. I will note this particular member of the team has permission to execute other members of the team if he agrees with your assessment they have been replaced by such a creature."
"You weren't kidding, my sources were off. Okay, sneaky, cunning, can create all sorts of group discord with the any-same-gendered-face trick-but they hunt alone, right? So, OTHER than what you said, do they have further properties relevant to their threat assessment?"
>"Just one-when they shift forms from human to dolphin and back, any wounds they possess will be healed as if weeks had passed. The only consolation is this does NOT happen when they shift between human forms. Their last threat is not supernatural physical capacity-they are no stronger, faster or more durable when guised as a human than any other, the same compared against other dolphins-but Encantado have an innate ability to manipulate nearby bodies of water-specifically water, not oil or blood or somesuch-be it sea or fresh. The degree of their talent in this field varies as much as the world-wide skill level at driving-you can find all sorts. Thus, even though I have no reason to think one involved in the vessel's fate, your team has been specially chosen to combat one's [i]possible appearance.[/i]"
"I think until I encounter one myself, I'll just treat them as a SEAL team and the CIA rolled into one body and try to avoid it and, if engagement is impossible to avoid, put every method at my disposal towards killing it."
>"A wise way to approach such a threat. For a rough assessment of the odds, out of every five boating issues we have, one involves an Encantado-had they any form of localized government or static living environs they would long ago have been expunged from the area-but nomadic hunters and shape shifters are unsurprisingly exceedingly hard to pin down."
"...I hate noting this, but you have not yet said that's all we could be facing."
>"Astute. There is one particular resident of the Bosphorus that is, relatively speaking, new-it's only been here for the last hundred years or so. An Akkorokamui."
I had a Russian-American squadmate for six months in Iraq whose mother was Ainan-I know that word-I know that name.
"Please tell me it's not as big as I think it is."
>"Sadly, the one here is indeed full-grown, and from one tentacle to another is, by best estimates, some hundred and twenty meters."
"...There is only just the one monstrously huge psuedo-octopus monster though, right? Just the one?"
>"Yes, just the one for the whole of the Bosphorus-and Wizard Khubiliai has made a personal mission out of hunting down and slaying the beast after the fifth time it sunk a boat with his followers on it. I see no realistic probability the creature will be encountered-it is not in the habit of leaving ships afloat after an attack-but it IS the last threat one must currently face."
"So to recap-good chance of Kelpies swarms trying to pull me under and Harpy swarms to rend at my face, low but considerable chance of rather dangerous shape-shifting murderous Encantado, and a very slight chance of a ship-breaking Akkorokamui. ...WHY is an Akkorakamui here?"
>"A collection of Cryptids drove out every last Akkorakamui from their home in the Funka bay-and I believe we are getting off-target here."
"Maybe not-I need to make sure the gear I bring is adequate to what I may be facing. For one, I know the moment I put this phone down I'm mounting an Elven blade as bayonet-best option I got, and I'd rather not have to put down a firearm to reach for a melee weapon, if it comes to it."
>"A cautious mind-you continue to fill me with hope I shall one day play against you."
>>301000
"Will communications be provided or should I bring my own?"
>"There will be fingerprint-locked cordless communicators provided-another precaution against Encantado infiltration in search teams."
"How high should I be setting my threat evaluation for these Portugese shapeshifters?"
>"While I scoff at the notion of underestimating their danger, be aware we have been dealing with them for some time, and have become exceedingly practiced at excising their presence when encountered."
"So I'll be meeting with the team before we depart then, so we can all familiarize ourselves, right?"
>"Absolutely correct. ...Always refreshing to meet one familiar with how one prepares to run an operation designed to succeed."
"Shouldn't have said that-you know Murphy's always listening."
>"......Murphy?"
>>301072
"Joke, nevermind-I'm wondering if you happen to have WASP knives."
>"...It seems Labombard lost the bet-yes, we have WASP knives, and indeed each member of the squad will be provided with a four-knife brace in addition to the personally-locked communicator. Any further questions?"
"When does the mission-"
>"Now. I am sending a car to pick you up-I'd rather not wait for you to walk."

Which means I can't get more ammo for the AA-12 before the job starts, dammit-so I check the AVT 40, adjust the bindings on my burgundy rifle to accommodate the transparent sword as bayonet, and have time to finish putting on both holdout rigs, stash the glock in my lower-back-holster, and secure both Matebas and all their speed-loads before stashing Castelletti's massive singleshot pistol in my inner jacket pocket. ...I then go a step farther as I hear tires screeching, and load all three flashbangs onto my belt, before slinging both aged russian rifles onto my shoulder. One may question just walking outside with two massive longarms-but given the neighborhood I live in is not well-to-do, the lateness of the hour on a weekday and the fact my door opens onto an alleyway and not a main street, all tied together by the only windows facing this way being readily visible and considerably distant-well, I'm not overly concerned, not to expose myself so for a handful of seconds. I nod to the much smaller Triad, his slightly rumpled suit murmuring its shuffling sound as he gets back in the driver's seat. I sit down alone in the back seat-

Twenty minutes later I am meeting four Triads-those who I shall be working with on this contract. They are:
-May Lee, a barrel-chested stocky woman with an oft-broken nose, scarred eyebrows and knuckles that look broken oft enough they've fused into subdermal hammers-and judging by how much her sweater's straining over her arms, she could probably drop me with a few clean hits. While only five three, the pair of axes (fuck, can never remember if they're called Chinese axes or Buddhist axes) at her hips and the SAW complete with a backpack the ammo-belt is feeding from-well, I think we have our heavy weapons expert of the bunch. Prone to few words and grunting where words aren't strictly required, she confides in us her ownership of a cat, and the fact she is very much under its command when home-the remark should bring laughter-it doesn't.
-Diao Yuan, the tallest of the group at five eleven, carries a Franchi SPAS 12 and sports a triple-stacked bandolier of 12-gauge, practically a rainbow of differently colored casings-I recognize Frag-12, Dragonsbreath, regular shot and sabot in the mix-and count another eight shades beyond. Then there's the stun baton at her right hip, the scalpalized dagger at the right... close quarters specialist, right here. She's... oddly shy, hiding her face behind her overlong hair more oft than not, her voice quite a bit higher than I'd expected. But despite the tentative social mannerisms, she confides she is, and I quote 'Somewhat the opposite when in the bedroom'.
-Go Ping is practically a poster child for the Triad. At five eight, leanly muscled and wearing a well-fitted suit with a shaved head, he almost gives off a monkish vibe, serenely waiting as I made my introductions at the start (noting I carry four guns taken from those I slew at this very moment as my own identifying factoid) and through May Lee's and Diao Yuan's, he says little save that he followed the 'Esteemed Master Lo Fang' to the triads many years ago, and has been here ever since. He carries a harness that hangs an MP7 at either hip, with another six clips secured to the rig-other than that, I see not a weapon on him. Not really sure how to classify him-a bit harder to read than the others-but he confides that his secret is he fears seeing Lo Fang never get revenge for a past transgression by those he had trusted.
-Lastly, Long Wang (I really have to struggle to not laugh at the one who's not really a he or a she being named 'Long Wang', but I just barely manage it) rounds out the group, shortest of the bunch at five flat, just oh-so-slightly having gone to seed. Long Wang's voice is rough, scratchy, and cracks intermittently-but his words and mannerisms bely his tongue, speaking of professionalism and dispassionate objectivism-he verbalizes his purpose-specifically bring up that if he and I both think another has been compromised, he has been given permission to execute them. He also notes that if all the other squad members agree with him that I have been replaced... well, better make sure that never becomes relevant while I'm alive. I don't know what he hides under that bulky jacket of his-but in his hands I see an HK69 in his hands... definitely not a toy. Long Wang's complete lack of humor is compounded by his fascination with 'Reaction images', trying to describe several forums he visits....

In any event, all of us have given a secret to our comrades, gotten to know eachother, gotten our WASP knives and finger-print locked communicators-it is time to go.

One hour later, Long Wang pulls our raft up beside the massive hulk of the Cargo Ship-the name, I am told, translating to 'The Lucky Lady.'

...Why does this give me a bad feeling?

We pull up beside the lone metal ladder bolted to the ship's side, all squinting as we look through the night gloom at the unlit, eerily quiet vessel.






Who's going up first?
Given we each know the general layout of the ship now, where should we head to start looking for clues as to what happened?
Should we head straight to the bridge and try to get the ship going back to port?
Is there any reason I can think of that would make splitting up our group a good idea?

>Who's going up first?
You. You're specialized in assaults and surprise attacks - so you're the best bet at taking one.

>Given we each know the general layout of the ship now, where should we head to start looking for clues as to what happened?

Bridge, maybe. Keep an eye out for a map of the ship itself, from there.

>Should we head straight to the bridge and try to get the ship going back to port?
Maybe - such an act might draw unseemly attention.

>Is there any reason I can think of that would make splitting up our group a good idea?

NO.

What can we tell from a cursory examination of the hulk? Any obvious damage? Is it listing to one side or the other, hanging low in the water? I don't imagine they'll tell us what the Lucky Lady was carrying, but you might want to risk the question anyway...

Splitting up... probably not a good idea unless we absolutely have to. You (with Keihas) and heavy weapons girl (with SAW): one takes point, the other watches six. You won't be able to turn easily in the relatively tight corridors that make up most of a ship with those weapons, so you want to be in the optimal place and pointing in the right direction to fire.

The other three remain in the middle, and two at a time should enter any side rooms you pass by. Buddy system. Hate to insult their intelligence, but let them know that if something does get into the middle of the group, not to open fire and beat it down with axe, rifle butt, fist, kung fu, whatever. If you DO get separated, have the groups keep in radio contact every two minutes.

Head for the bridge and try not to go below the waterline if you can help it; while on the ship you should be safe from kelpies (water), harpies (air) and giant octopi. Barring Encantado bodysnatchers or men with guns, it should be a smooth run.

>men with guns
Why would they be-
>and Wizard Khubiliai has made a personal mission out of hunting down and slaying the beast after the fifth time it sunk a boat with his followers on it.
Well, shit.

>Who's going up first?
You go up first, thermal-scoped Mateba in hand to scan for potential threats on the deck before clearing the others to come up. Or alternately, you could send Ping since there's one-handed autofire being packed there in case something's waiting at the top of the ladder.

>Given we each know the general layout of the ship now, where should we head to start looking for clues as to what happened?
Take it from the top. Head to the bridge, check the ship's log for any useful information.

>Should we head straight to the bridge and try to get the ship going back to port?
Head there yes, move the ship no. Not yet anyway. Just get the bridge secured for the time being and turn this into a clearing action, section by section.

>Is there any reason I can think of that would make splitting up our group a good idea?
In the words of Will Smith, AW HELL NAW!

Stay together within support range (30-50 metres?). Make some swift forays into the boat. See if you can check out the cabins or get a glimpse of the cargo, but move towards the bridge.

The main reason you don't want to go too far inside is that you want to try to keep an eye on the smaller boat you arrived with. If this ship is dead in the water and water monsters steal or sink your little boat then you're trapped.

Bob!t/UKid4z5s 2011/05/03(Tue)23:09 No. 301353 ID: a76809
File 130448939343.jpg - (168.17KB , 1110x785 , Doonongaes.jpg )

>>3001109
I lead, climbing with one hand, the other clutching the Nightvision scope equipped Mateba as I peer upward into the gloom, the world resolving into clarity before me. Compared to running in the sewers, climbing a ladder with backup behind me is nothing.

Which is why when I spot a lone Harpy near the ladder, turning to investigate, I jam the barrel against it's throat and fire a single suppressed shot. The point-blank, guaranteed-hit shot puts a 454 casul through the creatures hind skull, severs the spine and removes the trachea with no more noise than the waves and shifting metal-indeed, of those climbing behind me, only Go Ping, the one behind me, even seems to note what I did-all of this tertiary data noted while I meticulously sweep the area with my scope, checking all angles before proceeding as the rest of the team arrives-no other harpies-so it was just an individual scavenger, not part of a Harpy swarm that could have attacked the ship.... Harpies ruled out, as this particular section of deck is clear of cargo containers, and allows clears view of all space NOT filled with the tightly packed freight-so short of trying to nest on top of the cargo itself, where the wind is coldest and fiercest with no real chance to see anything else without revealing their image over the edge of the ship.... well, that's one possible threat down. Diao Yuan oh so softly titters as she spies the slain harpy, night vision goggles now on her face-and hers alone. Go Ping does not seem bothered by the darkness, his serene face shifting about as he observes our surroundings, while Long Wang mutters with May Lee, discussing the best route to the bridge. I take part when I realize the path they describe goes the long way around a bridged shortcut I saw on the schematics-so shortly enough, the three of us have a two minute trek mapped out while Go Ping and Diao Yuan keep watch alongside me.

>>301110
The ship's hull seemed undamaged in the ascent-and I haven't seen a bullet hole yet-all I've noted is a bent section of railing, bowing a couple feet in the middle of a span some nine feet across-but I can't tell if it's recent or not with the scope's resolution. I note a few dents in the freight containers-which, when accounting for distance, are more like 'yard-across-craters'. But beyond the six such craters I count and the bent section of rail, I see nothing. With no observable threat, we proceed onward, Diao Yuan and May Lee in the front, Go Ping and Long Wang in the middle on duty investigating rooms as we pass them to assure no stragglers behind us, and myself bringing up the rear, Mateba kept to the side of Keihäs so I can both see and present bayonet to anything threatening to follow us. Seven rooms are summarily appraised and deemed clear in transit, nothing out of the ordinary, until the ninth-

Which turns out to have been severely warped, the metal reshaped as if some giant had decided to stretch, with enough blood layered over every surface in pools, puddles and splatters that scores must have been butchered here. Closer inspection reveals clawmarks-maybe fangmarks-with a span of seven feet in the depths of the greatest craters-but not a single bone, or even scrap of flesh or hair is found-and all the blood dried days ago. Still, I believe we have found where a considerable portion of the crew if not all of them were slain. Past this one room of days-old slaughter, not a single thing of note is found as we make a beeline to the bridge. Shortly enough we are in front of the main power breaker-which was in fact simply switched to off. Long Wang, grinning like a fool, avoids saying 'I told you so' to May Lee's earlier assurances it couldn't be that simple as he flicks the switch-

The lights come on as power is restored to the station, Diao Yuan removing her goggles as I put away the Mateba to more normally carry Keihäs, floodlights on the deck re-illuminating as the ship's electrical systems thrum back to life.

**************************************************************************************

Deep beneath the Lucky Lady's lowest levels, beneath its keel, and the nearly surgically shorn hole some fifteen feet across into a small, already sealed room-floats a shape. A massive, roughly hided beast, a monster with a bone mask, a predator of the ancient deeps made flesh, amidst a literal sea of blood, the stray bodyparts of hundreds of aquatic creatures idly drifting around the slumbering beast-which twitches as the ship's current puts an oh so slight vibration back in the waters.

A Paleontologist would look at the ten meter long. bone-helmeted fanged monster and name it Dunkleosteus back from the grave, an apex predator of ancient times. A Biologist would note it couldn't be, as a Dunkleosteus was a fish-and this monster clearly has both a blow-hole at the base of that demonic, spiked bone helm, and skin far more cruelly toothed than any shark's skin-and say no such creature is known to exist-coupled with the fact it was napping underwater while, given it has a blowhole, holding its breath, it quite frankly shouldn't exist, the absurdity of it belying reality. But what neither would tell you, what neither COULD tell you, is something one must know. It would take a Native American from the Seneca tribe to tell you what the thing was.

Good luck getting them to hold still long enough after spotting the Doonongaes to get a description out of them-most are far too busy running for their life for having even been shown a picture of the monster. And sadly, it is ONLY a Seneca Native American who would not be startled and in fact expect the monster from the deeps to silently glide up through the bloodied waters, it's flesh flowing as it enters the ship-and takes on a new form as it does. For Doonongaes, beyond being a water monster so deadly to even touch the water it shares can spell your doom-they are shapeshifters.

Primary diet: Humans.

Now, with this hypothetical Seneca willing to discuss the topic, they would note it odd to see such a beast in early November, reasonably along in their hibernation cycle. And this critical point is a question that could only be answered by a different type of expert, one with no knowledge of Doonongaes at all, but nevertheless tied to this event-it would take a Triad to explain why the Doonongaes that murdered the crew of the Lucky Lady is awake and functioning during hibernation.

But since there is no Paleontologist, no Biologist, no Seneca, and in fact no awareness of what transpired deep beneath the ship-Go Ping, Diao Yuan, Long Wang, May Lee, and Armas Laine have no idea what is coming to investigate what disturbs this ghost ship.

And it's hungry.

[MYTHIC MONSTER ENCOUNTERED: THE DOONONGAES]

**************************************************************************************


The power is back on-now, I guess we just go down floor by floor and sweep the place until we can declare it secure-with plenty of bullets to let us CHANGE the answer to secure. We know the layout of the ship, and the real question relevant to how we explore it is follows:




In what order should the following rooms be searched?
-Engine room.
-Crew Quarters
-Captain's Quarters
-Infirmary
-Security
-Armory

And do I have any pertinent questions or thoughts for those of my team, as a whole or individually, like ammunition types for Diao or Long?

Yeah, ask about the ammo types. For where you go next, I say check out security, may be something of use there like video cameras or something. I suppose next would be armory as I assume it's close, then Captain's quarters, then infirmary, then crew quarters, then finally engine room (As it's probably the deepest area in the ship, and therefor most dangerous).

Well... that's not good. Were the Triad trying to ship this thing, I wonder? If something that size had cut through the hull, it would be pretty obvious to Armas. Either way, I'm rather glad we brought our new FUCK YOU pistol, because we're going to need it.

If you've seen any security cameras up, go looking for the security room first, followed by armory to see if they had any unusual weapons specifically designed for what they were carrying (I doubt it, but you never know...). If not, captain's quarters first, then crew's quarters, with an eye out for ship's log, black box, something to shed some light on the subject.

Also, stick together. You don't want to risk being picked off one by one.

>>301353
I guess I'll second this in terms of search order for the areas of the ship >>301454.

As for thoughts, we've ruled out harpies as a possible cause. We only saw one, there are no nests, and the damage doesn't fit. Kelpies aren't it either, there's evidence that the people were killed on board the ship, if I recall correctly Kelpies like to drown their prey. If it were a Kelpie there would be hardly any evidence at all and certainly not massive craters or rooms splattered with blood. Encantado's are gone as an option too, there's just too much damage. It just doesn't work with an Encantado's power set, far too powerful of an attack. They're supposed to be only as strong as humans when in human form, and even if they get more power while in their natural shapes their body doesn't have claws or fangs big enough to cause that damage. That's not to say any of these things aren't on board, but it just makes it far less likely that they were the cause of this massacre. With that settled Almas can then state that whatever this is it's large, powerful, and consumes human beings as evidenced by the absence of any parts in the slaughter room.

With that in mind he should ask everyone to share the extend of their experiences dealing with beasties that shouldn't exist, particularly large specimens like what we're likely up against. Suggest they load out with heavy duty rounds if we come across it.

Also I'm looking around and I'm not seeing a restriction to that things shape shifting like the Encantado has. So our entire group set up, built to handle an Encantado infiltration is kind of screwed. I mean we're prepared for something to try and infiltrate us, but the rules that are set up to ensure we can remove the gender which it will take the shape of and leave it in the open could hinder us instead of providing security.

When we reach a room to sweep (security, armory, etc.), have everyone spread out. Diao Yuan covers the door with the SPAS-12 set to auto. When she attacks, she'll run out of rounds inside of 5-10 seconds, but that's a pretty good destructive burst; have her retreat and reload rather than going toe to toe with this thing. A stun baton isn't likely to even inconvenience it. Have her load for bear (Dragonsbreath and FRAG-12 rounds, methinks). Same for the others; SAW and MP7s to hose it down, grenade launcher and your various weapons, and even a mythical beast might be feeling the hurt.

If we run into this thing, it's probably going to be in human form. A human still alive out here is going to be suspicious but not impossible. I don't know how good of an actor this thing is, but maybe the Triad shipping wing has some kind of codeword to prove themselves?

>>301660
SPAS-12 is not automatic, and Dragon's Breath does not work in semi-auto mode. If we run into something that buckshot and 5.56 won't kill, we'll just whip out our new howdah pistol and blow it to very tiny pieces.

I think going for security first is a pretty good idea. There should be cameras or the like. Then check the armory, quarters and infirmary. Do the engine room last.

See if you can put Keihäs into 'vengeance mode' by having it taste the blood of one of the dead sailors and promising to enact revenge on the one who killed the sailor. It's what the rifle was made for after all.

Stop and think about what you've seen means. A creature massive enough to do the damage you've witnessed could not fit down the corridors of the ship...

You're dealing with something that can shift its size, if not its shape. Be wary.

>>301444
"So... what kinds of ammunition ARE you carrying, Diao Yuan, Long Wang?"
>[DY]"What do you think of?"
"Well, something strong enough to warp metal like that was BIG, no question about it-and because the hallways around that room aren't warped, we can deduce it a shapeshifter-can't just lose all that mass any other way. So we should have ammunition oriented around a single, potentially huge and heavily armored opponent."
>[GP]"...This was not an Encantado attack."
>[ML]"Agreed."

And so I watch what look like reworked FRAG-12s being loaded into the SPAS-each shell marked with tiny caution labels-I imagine I shall enjoy seeing what they do. Long Wang, on the other hand, rechambers its tiny grenade launcher with a 40mm HEAP-the motion showing me it has scores of rounds secreted about its person. May Lee and Go Ping join me in the category of 'I don't have special ammunition,' and while I can't speak for the ever-zen Go Ping, May Lee shared in my envy of the others-specialized munitions are ALWAYS useful-and really fun.

Well, we're as geared up as we can be for this.

>>301454
"Also-I know I'm an outsider, but can you at least confirm or rule out whether what did this could possibly have been carried on this ship as live cargo? I want to know if this is something we need to look at trying to contain safely for sale, or something we can safely blow up."
>[GP]"This could not have been done by anything carried on this ship from its last port, Mr. Laine."
"Good, shoot to kill it is then. Was hoping recovery wasn't an option."
>[ML]"...Where did Lo Fang find this one?"

I peer about the room-no security cameras, damn-there won't be any footage to view, if there's not even a camera on the bridge. So we head to the Captain's quarters, presuming such a place most likely to hold answers about what just happened. We travel in a tightly formed group, staying quiet and above all purposeful in our trek-and reach our destination in one minute. Within, I find a Beretta with a single shell casing on the ground-and a spaltter of blood far more reminiscent of gunfire than being torn apart-the captain committed suicide before being eaten, perhaps? With the only thing other than the general clutter of a room being a log book, tab in place, I decide to flip it open-finding it written in Mandarin-obviously.

"This have anything to say about the fate of the ship?"
When no answer comes I turn to look at the quartet of Triads-only Go Ping avoiding showing shock on his face as he reads the words. He is the one to speak while the others stand poleaxed.
>[GP]"It would seem some of the merchandise attracted attention from the Seneca tribe."
"What makes you say that?"
>[GP]"Not your place to know."
[MILITARISTIC MACHIAVELVLIAN MANIPULATOR Trait activated]
"It does if it changes the nature of what potential threat we need to worry about. Besides, Lo Fang already has my goose-couldn't betray him even if I wanted to."
>[GP]"...As you say. It was a totem of Hagondes, presumed owned by Kaintwakon several hundred years ago."
"Given how potent the thing that tore this ship up is looking, how much would you like to bet the totem's a whole lot older than that?"
>[GP]"I do not gamble, Mr. Laine-I invest my money in strategies after assuring myself of their impending success-but I follow your logic, and agree."
"Well, then my first guess would be one of the old Senecan mythic monsters, the boogeymen of their people. Then narrow it down to aquatic creatures that can shapeshift."
>[GP]"As is the case for you, we are not experts in Senecan lore."
"Well there goes THAT easy solution."

With nothing else to make note of in the room, we move on to the crew quarters. Takes maybe four minutes to get there. The walls have been warped and blood has been smeared on the floor, the ceiling-every surface has been marred, one way or another, with vital fluids. Not nearly so gory as the room we passed earlier-but it nevertheless reeks of death, and is so heavily torn up that I doubt anything could be found without an exhaustive, time consuming search.

>>301547
"Well, at least it seems pretty clear harpies and kelpies were both not involved-so no group beasties to deal with."
>[ML]"Like group foes-get to shoot down many, not worry about whether they can shrug off bullets."
"Encantado seems out too-I can't see one safely operating in a place like this-so I'd say there's probably nothing here but the Senecan thing."
>[DY]"Only a monstrous man-eater to face..."
"Actually, anyone have thoughts on big mythic beasties? Things that worked well for you?"
>[GP]"Do you not have such experience to draw on?"
"Since in all prior encounters involved mission parameters dictating that retreat was the best method of achieving them-no."
>[GP]"...Master Lo Fang and I faced the Xing Tian twice in battle-it was stronger than either of us, but coordination overcame its power."
>[ML]"I say we get a place where we can force it to come at us from one direction, point everything that way and unload everything. If that won't kill it, we're going to die anyway-might as well be decisive about it."
>[LW]"....Speaking of Lo Fang, he has been informed of the situation-and requests us to withdraw at once."

That's when the lights go back out with a spine-tingling thrum of vanishing power-all of us save Ping tensing as hands go to our weapons-while the zen one simply smiles.
>[GP]"So, it is a thinking being then-this hunt shall be most memorable."

We resume our old formation as we make our way as swiftly as we can to the ladder back to our vessel, nearly ten minutes of hallways until we reach the deck-

Out boat is gone-a few strips of what could be rubber from the raft bob in the waters below.

We're stranded.

>[LW]"....Lo Fang is coming personally with a strike team to deal with the... Doonongaes. It will take him forty minutes to get here."

So.

Forty minutes.

The five of us trapped on a ship with a superpowered, shape-shifting murderous monster from Senecan lore, a Doonongaes. The power has been shut back off by the creature-and daring to go turn it back on could put us right in its clutches. We need to last two thirds of an hour-






How are we going to do that?
Of the previously mentioned rooms, should any be travelled to, or should we just stay here on the deck?
Anything to say to or ask of the squad?

>[GP]"So, it is a thinking being then-this hunt shall be most memorable."
"Ah, but are we the hunter, or the prey?

I'm not feeling much like the former."

Well, we do want to meet it in an open enough space that we can spread out and pour on the heat. But is it more valuable to be out on the deck so we can see, or more valuable to hole up in a dead end where the Doonongaes has less room to maneuver?

Always assuming it won't just tear through a wall to get at us, of course.. or the floor.

Did the bridge have external lighting, from windows and such? If so, I say hole up in there. Maybe rig up a few trip wires with your flashbangs in the shadows just outside the door (check with the others to see if they have anything useful in that vein); in an enclosed space like the corridors it'll hurt the Doonongaes more than you, and alert you that the hunter has arrived. Hopefully you can put some bullets in it before it gets in the room with you, as it tries to clear the doorway.