#[Impulse].Shadowsea.Seattle@Jackpoint

[drzaius]

[9 March 2069, 07:14 - SEATAC Railyards, Main Loading Docks, Tacoma]

<<Impulse@Krash>>
<<Sounds good, cya then.>>


Wandering over to the crew leader, Impulse offers him a cigarette and gives him a nod with his chin.

"Hey omae, I gotta run right now, but you guys need any help around here? Maybe a shift or two when you need an extra pair of hands?"

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

'Sure thing, tusker. Head on over to the managers office,' he jerks his head towards a small, pale blue mobile office, 'and tell him Old Ron sent you. He'll work somethin' out with you.'

[drzaius]

After stopping by the manager's office, Impulse starts walking to the bus stop to meet Krash.

This isn't so bad; of course, it's not going to get me the 5k I owe McGarnicle anytime soon...

Public transit has become both mundane and remarkably boring, as the bus is filled with other disreputable types mixed in with people just heading to work.

I need to get a bike... Impulse reminds himself.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

[9 March 2069, 07:39 - Diner 54, Tacoma]

The bus ride was a little longer than usual, quite uneventful. Though still early, plenty a wage slave was en-route to work, or already working in AR while on the bus.

Hopping off at a stop within spitting distance of Diner 54, Impulse heads inside.

A long bar with high top chairs and stools lines the back of the diner, behind which several fryers and grill tops sizzle. An old, 20th century juke-box sits beside the door. On his way in, Impulse passes several metas on their way out, and is followed in by several more - the place does a brisk business.

Upon entering, Impulse finds Krash settled into a corner booth, facing the door. With a wave, Krash gestures him over.

As he plops down into the booth, Krash starts in. 'Already ordered you a soykaf, omae. It's on the way. This place has the best eggs and soy-can-hash around.'

While he is speaking, an elderly waitress comes by and, turning over one of the coffee cups on the table, fills it to the brim with steaming soykaf. 'What'll you two boys be having?' Her voice is thick, heavy, granular from too many cancer sticks.

The two orks order, and when the waitress has left, Krash leans in.

'The deal goes down tonight. The Underground has a shipment of goods coming in from overseas, headed into the Tacoma Port tonight on a container with a phony manifest. We'll be picking up the stuff in the dockyards. Everything stinks like a setup these days, so I want a set of eyes I can trust there to keep things in check.' Cracking a grin, Krash adds, 'I figure that you'd be able to spot a double-cross a mile away, what with all your experience with em.'

[drzaius]

[9 March 2069, 07:39 - Diner 54, Tacoma]

Sipping at his soy-kaf, Impulse leans forward to talk business.

"Yeah man, no problem. You know I'm your guy. Can I know what we're movin', or who is showing up? I don't know a lot, but maybe I can know what to look for if I know more about the job. I understand if you want to keep me in the dark on this one; the less I know, the better I'm sure."

Impulse digs into the eggs with reckless abandon, the first real meal he's had in several days.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

'Look, the shipment is a bunch of medical supplies and chemicals coming in out of Indonesia - a bunch of generic knockoffs of name brand stuff here. On our end, we are working with some Russians down at the port. I don't trust those Albanian cock suckers.' His voice having raised a bit, Krash visibly upset, he calms himself and continues.

'They are getting a pretty good cut of what is coming in to play nice, but I want a lot of muscle there to make sure that they don't get sticky fingered, thinking we can't walk the walk. We are going to have a truck come and pick up the stuff. I want you to watch the whole transaction go down and follow our truck back to a lockup near the railyards. Make sure nothing goes wrong.'

Leaning back, Krash looks Impulse over. 'If you come though on this, we'll call your new 'link and other goodies pro bono and I'll see if I can't come up with a little cred for you.'

[drzaius]

Impulse leans in conspiratorially.

"Sounds good man, but as you know, my ride is currently sitting in a Lonestar impound lot. Any chance you could loan me a set of wheels for this? I don't want to bring excess heat down on you if I don't have to."

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

Krash gives a chuckle. 'Oh, right. I keep forgetting what a fuck job that was.' Leaning back, he ponders a moment, an errant hand rubbing at his stubble. Squinting, 'I think I can work something out on that front.'

Leaning forward again, his hands cradling the coffee cup, his voice lowers. 'Look, I don't want you to be seen directly at the meet. I scoped the place out and there is this rooftop you can sit on to watch the whole thing go down. When it is over, climb down and follow the truck back. I don't want to show all our cards on this one, so ka?'

[drzaius]

Impulse puts his hand across the table and shakes Krash's.

"Alright man, sounds good. Stay safe tonight; I don't got many friends left."

None, really.

"You just say where and when, and I'm your man."

Impulse gives Krash a toothy grin.

"'Course, if stuff doesn't stay safe, I'm your man then too. Whatever it takes, I owe you big."

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

'You, too, tusker. I'll hit you later with the details. Expect to be in the docks district by around 23:00.'

[9 March 2069, 08:50 - Outside Diner 54, Tacoma]

Impulse's commlink buzzes as he heads out of the Diner 54. Krash was working fast, sending the details of the meet.

<<Krash @ Impulse>>
<<The deal is scheduled to go down at midnight tonight at the location noted at the end of this message. The spot is a small warehouse on the waterfront, well away from the main streets. Our guys are being brought in by Filibro and are meeting with a Russian by the name of Sergei. We have not worked with him before, so keep an eye on him. It was agreed that nobody would carry anything bigger than a pistol to this, so firepower shouldn't be too much of a worry. I'll arrange for a bike to get stashed near the meet - I'll get the location of it together for you later. Finally, the drop off is in the SEATAC Railyards. Since you are flying high and covering this whole deal, make sure that the truck comes in without any heat following. Good luck and shoot straight, omae.>>

[drzaius]

Impulse meanders about the docks, picking up a shift of work. His muscles sore after a hard days work, he grabs some grub and then makes his way to where the meet is going to take place, making sure the bike is where Krash said he left it before climbing up to the roof of the warehouse to spy on the meet.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

[9 March 2069, 11:26 - SEATAC Railyards, Tacoma]

Impulse's commlink buzzes. Checking his inbox, he notes the location of the bike and grins. It's here in the railyards... Must have fallen off the back of a truck... The end of the note reads: <<Take what you like, but if is expensive, expect to work it off.>>

Wandering around the shipping and receiving yards with his commlink in hand, Impulse finds the noted container and, popping it open gazes inside. Lined up in neat rows, stacked two high, are bikes from various manufacturers, makes and models.

Impulse rummages around inside the container, trying to find a nice ride. Within moments, he has located everything from a Dodge Scoot to a Chopper to a rice-rocket. Choosing the one he likes, Impulse closes up the container, slaves the bike to his commlink and rips the throttle wide open, taking in the roar.

[9 March 2069, 16:30 - SEATAC Railyards, Tacoma]

His commlink buzzing again, Impulse receives a message:

<<Krash @ Impulse>>
<<Location has changed. Don't ask. New spot is in Industrial East of Downtown. We need this stuff bad, so we are going in anyways. Stay sharp. We aren't as welcome in South Downtown as we are in our own backyard. Shoot straight and stay healthy.>>

Impulse's commlink notes the location and, after a moment, chimes.

[LOCATION NOTED, ADDED TO NAVSOFT. PLANNING ROUTE... ROUTE FOUND. TOTAL TIME: ~30 MIN, 21KM.]

[9 March 2069, 23:51 - Alleyway near The Buy, Industrial East, South Downtown]

Impulse swings his leg off the bike and tries to shake the rain off of his face so that he can see clearly. It has been pouring down hard for the past five hours or so, and the new bike has left Impulse totally exposed to the elements. Well, freedom has its price, right?

After stashing the bike in a small defile, Impulse heads off to the actual meet location to find Filibro.

Walking down a few winding alleyways, Impulse enters a small concrete square in front of a warehouse, large doors along the wall indicating that this is some kind of loading or unloading area. Standing in the rain are four orks. Turning over his shoulder, Impulse looks out into the night and across the rooftops, searching for a good location.

'Hey, esse. Krash says you alright, so you alright by me. These are my boys.' Filibro introduces a small crew of large orks.

'Vincent', tall, thick, dumb. He only nods.

'This is Caesar'. Slicked back hair, latino-themed nano-tats, bright eyes. ' 'Passa, holmes?'

'And Grazer.' Hard eyes, narrow frame coated in the thick sinews of vat-grown muscle. 'How do, omae.' Grazer nods to Impulse

Filibro nods to Impulse, 'I don't like this one bit, cabron. Moving the meet so late in the game? Stinks like shit. We are gonna trust you with our lives, so don't fuck up.'

[drzaius]

[9 March 2069, 23:51 - Alleyway near The Buy, Industrial East, South Downtown]

Twitching from the cram he popped before walking over to the alley,
Impulse nods to each as they are introduced, then turns to face Filibro.

"They're trying to put you on edge, make you nervous. That's why they moved the meet. They know you need the stuff, so they'll take as much license as they think they can get away with."

Impulse takes a long drag on a cancer stick, mostly in vain as a result of the elements.

"Expect for them to bring twice as many guys as agreed, and double the price on you on the spot. You just play your cards straight man, and everything should go over smooth. What they're sellin' can't get sold at Stuffer Shack, right? So odds are they want to make a deal as much as you do."

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

Filibro nods. The rain is coming down hard and he nearly has to yell to be heard. 'I expect those putas to try and fuck with us as much as they can. This isn't my first rodeo. They are going to get the amount of cred we agreed on to start.' Eying Impulse, he looks the ork up and down. 'You strapped?'

Looking around, not really waiting for an answer, Filibro continues. 'You are going to have to get lost right quick before those euro-fuckers get here.'

All around them, the driving rain closes the night in close, drowning out sight and sound.

Impulse and the group currently are standing next to a GAZ Pickup with a covered back. The whole meet is setup in a twenty meter square concrete loading area with a warehouse on the East and West sides. The North end is fenced off and heads off into the Puget Sound not too far off. To the South, some concrete jersey barriers make up a passage just wide enough for a container truck to pull in.

[drzaius]

Impulse gives a curt nod.

"Alright man, I'm gonna keep an eye out on things. You need me to rush in here like a madman, you start talking about your sick dog. That'll be my cue."

Scoping around, there doesn't appear to be a good spot to hide; smart of the people setting up the meet. Impulse finally manages to move a crate and stand by a broken window in the western warehouse, although he's certain anyone with any vision mods would see his big dumb skull sticking out like a sore thumb.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

[10 March 2069, 00:04 - The Buy, Industrial East, South Downtown]

Impulse crouched behind the comically small crate, leaning against the wall and trying to make himself scarce. At least it isn't raining in here...

A cone of light slowly plows through the dark, rainy night, drawing nearer to the buy. Filibro nods to his boys as they spread out into a semi-circle to greet the oncoming vehicle, hands held under coats, near hips, in pockets.

Though the Tata SFC 1509 is notoriously loud, Impulse can barely make out the engine noise over the thrum of the rain. Behind the large truck come two Rover Model 2068s, black and shining in the dim lamp light. The two Rover's come up to flank the truck as it rattles to a halt, each Rover pointing their headlights into the warehouses while the truck's lights illuminated the square.

Four dangerous looking metas pile out of each of the Rovers and take up a line in front of the truck, facing Filibro, scanning around intently. Impulse is not sure if they saw him or if he is just sure that they would see him. The two groups appear to be exchanging words, a few nods.

One of the delivery crew steps forward, well dressed in a dark suit and heavy rain jacket, collar high agains the rain, a fedora casting a sheen across his shoulders. The well dressed man closes in on Filibro and the two begin to talk, gesticulating, changing the distance between them, now tight, now farther apart.

Finally, Filibro nods and steps forward, extending a hand. The well dressed man nods, shaking Filibro's outstretched hand.

Soon, the two groups merge, and the Tata is being loaded with logo'd boxes. Within a few minutes, the transaction is complete and the back of Filibro's truck is packed to the gills.

The two groups appear to be exchanging a few words, and then the delivery men load up into their Rovers, the Tata's engine throttles, and they are gone into the night.

Filibro and his crew watch the Russians drive out and then visibly relax. Filibro casts a glance into the warehouse and, grinning heads over.

He is dripping, soaking, sopping wet, though smiling. 'We should have done the deal in one of these warehouses, cabron. Woulda saved everyone the hassle and soaking!'. Waling over, Filibro delivers a playful punch to Impulse's shoulder. 'You ain't got no creep in you, boy. I seen kids hide better 'an that!' Chuckling, he turns towards the truck. 'Ain't no thang, man. They didn't take no mind. You were right, though, they tried to go over the top on the price, showing a lot of muscle at the meet and everything. I just talked 'em down real smooth and they came around.'

Neither Impulse nor Filibrp notice a Eurocar speeding in, it's lights off, until the car has power-slid to a dead stop no more than six meters from the group's truck.

The windows are down, barrels protruding... Filibro's crew's eyes are wide, caught holding boxes, about to pick one up, in the process tying another down...

'Everything went real smoo...' Filibro casts a glance over his shoulder, sensing movement.

He is too late.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

As the oncoming black sedan skids to a halt, several barrels are pushed out of the windows and each spits a white-hot tongue of fire into the square, lighting the warehouses in a strobe.

Caesar, Vincent and Grazer are all caught with mouths agape. Dropping their boxes, freezing, or starting to dodge, all three are hit and go down hard. Vincent and Caesar are nearest to Impulse, and he watches in horror as rounds stitch themselves across the two, Caesar taking the worst of the fire. Though he is already trying to go prone, Caesar is helped to the ground as rounds smash into his side and shoulder, sending him to the ground in a heap.

Caught in mid yell, Vincent is reaching for Caesar when a round goes through his forearm, another into his shoulder and he collapses nearly on top of his friend.

Grazer, on the other side of the truck and seen through the passenger windows, can be seen to fall, but Impulse has no idea how bad it is.

He has little time to consider Grazer's fate...

Facing the entrance to the warehouse, the square beyond and the black sedan, Impulse can see a meta get out of the rear passenger side and level a weapon over the roof. The distinct chlok-chlok-chlok of an AK-97 echoes throughout the warehouse as rounds begin to zip and crack overhead.

Filibro and Impulse both flinch slightly as the rounds come in, both jamming hands into their coats to produce firearms.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

The next few heartbeats pass in a pandemonium. Impulse's face scrunches up into a slight wince as he tries to draw his firearm. The scene before him unfolds in the blink of an eye, things going from bad to worse.

Filibro's crew, felled by gunfire, draw down on the vehicle and return fire, adding to the din. Rounds pock off the side of the vehicle, blow through the windows, zing through the air. Their onslaught seems to stem the tide of incoming fire slightly. All thought of counter attack is abrubtly stopped when a white-blue arc of lightning crashes through the air towards Grazer, hidden behind the truck. A thunderclap booms and the air stinks of ozone. What became of Grazer, no one can tell.

Filibro whirls around, wildly pulling his Ingram Smartgun out and leveling it at the car, spraying the whole way. Abruptly, as if by magic or someone turned off the bullet hose, the incoming AK fire stops, the hollow 'chlok-chlok-chlok' going dead.

[drzaius]

Seeing the situation rapidly deteriorate, Impulse finally manages to clear his pistol and level it calmly against the vehicle. Seeing the shooter with the Ak fall, he realizes he doesn't have a clear shot against anyone, and decides to roll the dice.

"Get your guys out of here! They decided they wanted the product *and* the money."

Let's hope that lightning came from there...

The glass of the rear window shatters as he unloads the Ruger into it, but he's unsure if his shot hit anything.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

Suddenly, the sedan's engine revs hard and tight, smoke roiling off of its spinning tires. Within a revolution or two, they catch the ground and the car leaps backwards in an arc, headed behind the driver's side of Filibro's parked truck.

'Looks like they are heading for the truck, omae,' Filibro yells over the firefight's din.

[NoOnesShowMonkey]

Aiming carefully at the driver's side of the windshield, Impulse lets fly with his Ruger, the huge pistol bucking in his hand. A white circle explodes on the glass, far enough to the side that the driver would have to lean into the round. Shit.

Over the chatter of weapons fire, the screech of tires and the pounding rain, Impulse can hear a car door open, followed by the deeper, heavier ca-thunk of the truck door. They have some brassy ones on 'em, trying to drive the truck right out of here...

The sedan's engine revs hard again, and Impulse can see smoke roiling up from the tires. The sports car leaps forward, the rear tires invisible in a cloud of smoke, slick against the wet ground and tearing rubber, the rear end of the car waggling loose. Snapping into line with Impulse and Filibro, the car looks like a coiled cat, ready to pounce.