A Fathers Rage - (Aborted)

The Set up

The Widow Carmundy. She's a nice old woman who lives out in the Pueblo Sector. Some 86 years old, she lives in a big house up on the hills of Colorado Springs, just north of the old Air Force Academy. She's a nice old lady, Until you piss her off. One of the first members of Mothers of Metahumans in the Colorado area, she's a friend of Johny Wulfsons. Johny calls some people, and gets some names. People who are in Denver, who work cheap, who are hungry for work and have perhaps a sliver of humanity in them.

Johny arranges a meet through trusted contacts, calling Serel directly, but arranging the meet with Trouble through Thom Wilde, who says that Mark Johnson out in Atlanta speaks well of Johny and it should be cool, and then through Troll Rights, the activist group, of which the Widow Carmundy is a patron and passes Johny the name and number.

The place to meet is passed on in the usual methods; a meet, a place to join; neutral ground. The location is The Strip And Grind, a biker bar with strippers on tap, out in the Ute Sector.

Johny is there already, seated in the back booth, a beer in front of him. A younger looking elven male hovers in the area, keeping watch. Clearly, he's Johny' s bodyguard.

Serel roars up on a Harley Davidson Scorpion, coat flapping in the wind behind her, eyes hidden behind the same enigmatic silver shades as always. She parks the bike in front of the bar, slinging her leg over. Without looking around (ignoring the catcalls, equal ones directed at her and at the bike), she heads into the bar, going straight for Johny's booth and the seat across from him.

Quills is barely settled into the coffin-motel he's renting at a local club when the message comes in. It's easy enough to sort out a clean change, always one to worry about first impressions and thinking that if he can't look sharp, he can at least show up on time in something clean and neat. And thus is how he arrives, parking his namelessly bland car out front and walking in in a simple wage-slave's suit and tie, hair tied back in a ponytail and with his tail coiled around his waist like a quirky belt.

Trouble approaches the Strip and Grind, a couple of minutes before the agreed time. She is dressed in tight jeans a black fitted top and black boots, with a long black coat over the top. She weaves her way through some of the bikers who are hanging around the entrance, ignoring their comments and whistles, and heads into the bar. She scans the room, looking for Johny, nodding her head in time to the loud rock music that is playing. She spots him, sitting in the back booth, nursing a beer. She slides into the booth, besides him. "Hello Johny", she says. "I'm Trouble."

Johny sips his beer, one hand holding a cigarette. When Serel approach's, the elven man steps back a little, indicating she's clear without any check. Quills and trouble get a glance over, like they are being assenced, before they are allowed to pass on. Johny taps the table with the end of a pack of cigarettes and then activates a small WNG concealed within the package itself.

"I'm Nacht." Says Johny, offering her a slight smile. "And trouble is what I'm looking for." He gestures to Quills, for him to have a seat. "THank you for coming, all three of you. I'll front you a beer, then get right to the heart of the matter. Any objections?"

Serel shakes her head. That's it. That's all that's necessary.

Quills nods assent, waiting to be acknowledged unlike the other two much more forward sorts and quickly… well, sitting in a seat without really moving into it. "No objections here," he says politely before turning and ordering a drink.

A waitress approaches, taking the drink orders in hand. She returns a moment later, with the actual drinks, giving the table priority. For one; no one at the table has tried to grab her ass. Thats always a plus.

"I am representing a patron who is representing a gentleman. This gentleman will be joining us after a few preliminaries. All of you are new to town and I like to work with new talent when I can. Keeps me fresh." He exhales then, crushing out his cigarette. "This job's low rent as hell. It's not taking on a megacorp, it's not going to redraw a political border, it's not even going to buy you a new car. It's not that kind of job. This here's almost charity; but there is money in it. Objections can be filed in the parking lot with your car."

Trouble listens to Johny. She takes a sip from her beer, followed by another, then places it down on the table, in front of them. She doesn't seem too phased when Johny mentions the poor pay ,and keeps her attention on what he is saying.

Quills also listens, but just shrugs at the mention of low pay as well. It's obvious he's new in town to anyone that's been in this game a'while, charity-cases don't seem to bother him much.

Serel nods at Johny's words. "What preliminaries?" Short, to the point, professional.

Johny finishes off his beer. "That was them. I'm going to bring in the gentleman now and he can tell you what you're doing. I'm just Human Resources right now. Asset Management. It's what I do." He gestures then to the bodyguard, who nods and waves one of the men at the bar over.

Jim Mathers stands about 5 foot 9. He's not short, but he's not tall. He is an ork, probably with a bit of Native blood in him, but he looks pretty caucasian. He's wearing a tattered Pueblo Wildcats Jacket, the sort of thing you get when you retire from spec-forces. That may lead some to wonder why Mr. Wildcat doesn't do this mission himself. But only for a moment, because he's in a wheel chair, one leg severed below the knee, the other at the hip. He rolls over on over, entering the envelope of the WNG.

"Ah…. hello…"

Trouble smiles politely at Jim, when he arrives at their booth. "Hello sir, my name is Trouble." She rises from her seat to bend down and shake his hand, before returning to sit in her previous place.

Quills nods politely, "<Hello,> Sir, most call me Quill," with the greeting in Or'zut; seems a safe and polite risk to greet the ork in what's commonly considered 'their' tounge, especially considering the situation. He offers a hand after Trouble.

Serel inclines her head and upper body, giving a seated bow. "Nice to meet you, sir. Serel Ringlas."

Johny settles back at this time, his cigarette consuming his attention now. He's previously spoken to Mr. Mathers.

Jim offers a nod to the woman, shaking her hand firmly. "I'm hopen' so, Miss." He turns to Quills when he's addressed, returning the address by tapping his chest with a fist and grunting 'Skraa!'. It's obviously something usually shouted, but for now… he refrains. Probably best. He then offers a nod to Serel.

"Nice ta meetcha. Thank yall fer comen. Mr. Nacht said he'd get the best he could, an I trust the man ta deliver."

Trouble nods at Jim's words. "Nice to meet you too. It's a pleasure to be here", she says, a smile on her face. She takes a glance at Johny smoking his cigarette, before going in for another sip of her beer.

Quills nods, grinning after the shared grunt with the Ork as he settles back, letting others do most of the talking and enjoying his drink for the moment. Not being anti-social, just thinking it better not to have too many cooks in the kitchen at once.

Serel nods as well. "What do you need the best for, Sir?"

Jim positions himself at the table finally, then locks his wheels. "My names James Mathers. Use'ta be a soldier worken down Pueblo ways, until I retired about 8 years back. See, I retired on accounta my wife passen on and leaven me with our girl, Thielar. So we settled down in Santa Fe, I got a job working security, through my old CO, ya know? Just do'n the Civvie thing and tryen ta be a daddy ta my girl." he pulls out a picture then, placing it (its a wallet sized, pretty battered and worn. He offers it to the center of the table, and Thielar is a beautiful young lady, perhaps 8 years old, smiling and the very flower of Elven innocence. "She's like her momma was. Prettiest thing I ever had in my life. Made getten up and going to work -worth it-."

Trouble leans over, taking a look at the photograph. "She is beautiful", she comments. "I am sorry to hear that you lost your wife". Her remarks seem genuine, rather than just polite. She knows what it is like to lose people.

Quills can't seem to help grinning when he hears the young one's name, looking at the picture when he can… it breaks through the brief melancholy of hearing the vet lost his wife before he can really frown much at that, nodding agreement with Trouble.

Serel lowers her head in silence for the passing of his wife, looking at the picture with intrest when she opens her eyes. She also says nothing.

Jim exhales. "She was taken from me, about 3 years back. See, me and she we had come out to the Ute Nation, ya know, fer some vacation. Me and my girl was gonna go down the Grand Canyon, see the painted desert, then hit Monument Valley. Thielar, she loved them old flatvid westerns where cowboys always road against that epic kinda land, so she wanted ta see it." He exhales, pausing a moment to thank the bodyguard who places a beer in front of him, a hand to the mans shoulder. The bodyguard then withdraws.

"So anyway, thats where we met them Underdawgs. Them's a biker gang outta the Cal-Free who pretty much roam the Ute Nation at will. Can't say much for them Utes as accounts to their law enforcement, but they ain't got a lot of cash to shell out for it." He sighs then, looking in to the beer. "See. California was where a lot of the people the Indians forced out of their land went; and they bred themselves a nice rich batch of racists and assholes and all sorts… and they got shafted by the Japanese, then the Aztlanners, then the Tir… so I can't say I can't understand where the anger comes from…" He shakes his head.

"They took'er… My little angel, and they… well…" he takes a drink of the beer then, swallowing hard. "They did what bikers do to pretty little girls who can't fight back none… I tried ta stop em, but they… well, there was a bunch of em. S'where I lost my legs. I'd be dead too, but when they tossed me over the side of the canyon, I hit soft mud and was able to stop the bleeding…"

Trouble listens to Jim, a single tear rolling down her face, as he tells his horrific tale. She shakes her head. "I can't imagine..that is so horrible." She doesn't bother to wipe away her tear and it falls, all the way down her face, until it lands in her beer.

Quills winces, especially at the mention of the Tir's… "Aye… she has the right of it, that's terrible," in a voice that sounds far too rough to be comin from en Elf, shifting forward part-way through the story and trying to hide getting choked up as he shifts around.

Serel shakes her head slowly, still downcast. Quietly, she says, "What can we do to help you, Mister?"

Jim takes a moment, focusing on his beer. "Ute never could do nutten. No evidence, they said. Fact'othe matter, is Theilar was Anglo as the day is long… girla my loins and a beauty so pale the moon got jelious an blue." He sighs… "SO they never did nothen. The Underdawgs was so mobile, the Ute strapped. An when I asked mah own nation, thems the Pueblo, they didn't wanna insult their fellow NAN nation, ya know, and try and step in to em. But I swore me an oath, down there in the mud, cradlen what was left of my girl… I swore I'd see em all gone. But I don't want em dead. Dead's too good, ya know. No."

He slams one hand in to the table then. "I want them and their whole goddamn gang put away, and I want thems who protect them gone too. An Johny's gotta way ta do it."

Trouble watches Jim slam his hand on the table, having an urge to do so herself. She remains outwardly calm, however and looks to Johny, awaiting his idea.

Quills startles at Jim's hand coming down, sitting upright but not quite leaning back and away, ending up looking overly alert as he turns to Johny and nodding. "Aye… what can we do to get this trash in the can where it belongs?" he asks.

Johny leans forward then. "Doug Laweson is the chapter head of the Underdawgs, a biker gang registered as a non-profit organization in China Lake, California. They do 'charity' work in town, but no one really asks where their money comes from. It comes from raiding and robbery in the Ute Nation, drug trafficking and so forth. The problem till now has been that Laweson runs China Lake. His man is the mayor and his man is the sheriff. With California lacking any real cohesive structure after the Pueblo took Los Angeles and Saito took the capitol… well, no outside helps coming in. Some say that Laweson gets assistance. Guns. Weapons. Money. And I know where its coming from. The only problem.. is I can't get my hands on physical proof. But thats what you are going to do." A pause as he crushes out his cigarette.

"TOnight, Doug Laweson is in Denver. A few miles away. Tonight, he's going to meet with a representative of Mitsuhama Computer Tehcnologies, one of the corps that backs General Saito. That representative will arrange the transfer of money and goods to a base outside of China Lake in return for the assassination of a local leader in Fresno. Your jobs… will be as bounty hunters; Record, then apprehend, Mr. Laweson and get the contents of his brief case. I don't care much if Laweson lives, if you can get that case. It will tie the pieces together. Do you understand?"

Serel nods. "I understand. What do you have for us to work with?"

Trouble nods her head to Johny. "I understand", she says, looking at the others for their reaction. "So do we know the exact location of the meet?"

Quills adds, "More importantly, how much defense should we expect in and around that meet?"

Serel flys a hand to her coat as a phone vibrates. She puts it to her ear and hasn't even finished her greeting when she stops. After a moment her face goes white, and she stands up. "I'm sorry to jet, but my appartment's on fire. I gotta get over there quick to see if I can salvage anything. I'm really sorry, Sir. I hope you find justice. Good luck, the rest of you." She nods to the other three, then bolts for the door. Gone.

Johny quirks a brow. Apartment on fire… "Good luck, Ms. Renglas." Says Johny, exhaling, looking back to the other two. "I'm sorry. AS to defense; You can expect several members of the UnderDawgs to be present, perhaps a bodyguard or two for the Mitsuhama representative."

Serel exits the plot due to Real Life issues.

Trouble blinks at Serel. "Blimey, you better run then." She waves the elf off and then turns her attention back to those who are present. She nods at what Johny says. "Perhaps we can distract them somehow, rather than just going straight at them, or take them by surprise."

Quills looks wide-eyed at the departing Elf, leaning clear for her to scamper off before turning back, nodding at Trouble's suggestion, "Aye… m'not expecting charging in, guns blazing, to be a good idea lass. It almost never is. Best might be to set something up, let them blunder into that, I'm thinking?"

Johny places both hands on the table then, offering a nod. "Here's the data we have." One hand releases a datachip. "You are the runners. I've provided the operational spectrum. The chip has a number to call when you complete the mission. Me and Jim, are going to go get dinner."

Trouble looks thoughtful and takes a sip of her beer, with added tear. "I have ways of distracting people, they aren't always fol proof, but they can be effective." She looks at Quills. "Do you have any preferred methods of operation?" She turns her focus back to Johny and Jim, as they make to leave. "Thanks to both of you. We will do our best." She offers them both a smile, and rising to her feet, a handshake. "I hope you have an enjoyable dinner." She grabs the datachip, looking back at Quills. "Do you want this, or shall I hang on to it?"

Quills nods to J and J as well, adding, "We'll deal with this as you requested," and holding out his hand towards Jim more while staying seated to stay even height with him, then Johny he stands up for before turning and shaking his head to Trouble, "Nay, you keep a'hold of it. I'm good at ambush, and unloadin way too much ammo at folks for them to dodge, but I'm not the best at the social stuff. I'm decent at sneakin' around, though that's mostly because of ambushing folks a lot. You have a plan?"

Johny makes his way out then. "Your methods are your own. I have laid out my objectives, my desires… and I don't much care for the disposition of the issues at hand at the end of it. Just that the briefcase gets back to us."

##«OOC» Johny says, "The Chip contains data on the meet place, the price your being paid for this mission (20,000 nuyen each, or 2 contacts, Jim and the old lady). A little dossier on Laweson detailing his time as a California Highway Ranger (A cross of Cal-Trans and the highway patrol) and before that, as a member of the California Guard (The military). He's got training, he knows what he's doing.. and he also has very little care for the world around him. The meeting place is a truckstop called the Flying J, just south of Denver Proper, in the Peublo Sector."##

Trouble gives a final nod to Johny. Then looks back at Quills, moving a little closer to him, so they can speak in lower voices. "I don't have a plan exactly, no. Like I said, I can provide distraction if needed. I am capable of altering my appearance, both by disguise and altering my facial features and skin colour." She touches her face, with her right hand as she says this. "I can also ..engage people with my singing. That can provide us with some time, if it works." She looks at the chip, that she is holding in her left hand. "So, the meeting place is a truck stop ,and this Laweson guy? He sounds like he is no push over. Thats before we consider his gang and bodyguards."

Quills nods, settling in for conversation with Trouble for the moment and adding, "And I have a few friends that should be able to arrange to get our goods out of that area. I'd recommend we don't try to hand-carry whatever we get back ourselves, easier to hand it to a third party better versed in getting stuff through the checkpoints. So we just have to worry about getting the package seperated from it's owner and to a much closer drop-point, if that makes sense?"

Trouble considers this. "We can take my RV, if needed, incase we need to make a quick getaway. We also may draw less attention if we arrive in a vehicle, than on foot."

Quills nods to Trouble, "Aye, best if we show up in something reasonable for a truck-stop. My car'd stick out like a sore thumb at a truck stop, and I'm not that good at driving it under pressure. One sec, lemme see if QT can help us out."


Quills Calls Rick Travails

------------------------> Contact for Quills (#3107) <-------------------------
Contact Name: Rick Travail
Level: 2
Type: smuggler
GM Note: More commonly known as 'Quick Travel' and an expect of getting them in and out of places like the Tir's, or the Denver zones, usually via simple delivery-truck.

«Auto-Judge[]» Quills (#3107) rolls Etiquette + 1 vs TN 4 for "Heyas, Rick, can ya' provide a lift?":
2 2 5 8 = 2 Successes

Trouble nods and waits patiently for Quills to make the call. She finishes off her beer and takes a quick glance around the bar, as he speaks to QT.

The phone picks up. "Quick Ricks Travel Slick, I gotcher ticks! You need it, I move it!"

Quills laughs a bit at Rick's patter… "Yo, it's Quillian. I got a friend, broke down out at the truck-stop in Pueblo. He's loaded extra-light, wanted me to call, see if someone can pick him up once he arranged for things to be taken care of, bit of a time crunch and all," he starts, outlining the timeline needed in that second-guessed phrasing once he'd ID'd himself to Rick.

"Hey! Q man! Glad to hear from you. You need…uh… yeah… I can arrange that. No problamo no-mamo! One light rig at your disposal. Gonna cost ya… ah… how long you want this thing for?"

Quills shrugs to himself, chiming in, "Eh… single day, tops. Should be light enough it can hop a lift on an existing load if that's easier on you."

"Thats a kay mano. You swing the cash, the rig is yours."

Quills nods, a simple, "Done. You know I'm good for it. And thanks, QT!" before hanging up and turning back to Trouble, "Okay… we'll have a rig nearby, he'll message me what it'll look like when it shows up, and they'll be expecting a small bit of cargo from us. So no need dirtying up your RV gettin' stuff home that way, good?"

Trouble looks at Quills , as he finishes his call and smiles. "Good", she says. "Nice work."

«Plot» Johny says, " 1,000 Nuyen to be deducted from 40,000 run payout for transport and logistics costs. PLayers will have a GMC Bulldog stepvan waiting for them in the area. Rating 4 armor."

Trouble Calls Thom

------------------------> Contact for Trouble (#9888) <------------------------
Contact Name: Thom Wilde
Level: 3
Type: fixer
GM Note: Stats: B:2 Q:3 S:2 C:3 I:5 W:5 R:4 KP:2 , Skills:Etiquette 4 (Street 6), Negotiation 7
GM Note: Thom is a former boyfriend of Trouble's and is now a business associate. He is an experienced fixer and helps set her up with contacts and gear she may be finding it hard to come by.
«Auto-Judge[]» Trouble (#9888) rolls Etiquette + 2:
1 1 4 4 4 7 9

Trouble says to Quills, "Excuse me. I am going to make a call of my own." She dials the number of Thom Wilde, the man who helped get her this job. "Hey Thom, it's me Trouble."

"Trouble. I smelled you on the wind. Or maybe thats just the snow and blizzard. Either way, I like it. Whats up sugar?"

Trouble says "I was wondering if you know a place called the Flying J, it's in the Pueblo sector. I was hoping if you did, you could give me some ideas on the layout, possible exits ,and what not. Also, while I'm at it, do you happen to know anything about a meetup there tonight?, and how many people Doug Laweson may have with him."

"Sure I know Flying J. It's a uh.. well, nationwide doesn't work so much anymore, what with the nation being all broke up… but its continent wide chain of truckstops. Who the fuck is Doug Laweson?"

Trouble says " He is the the chapter head of the Underdawgs, a biker gang. He is our target for tonight, him and his briefcase."

"Ai'ght. You need to give me more info than that, sweetcheeks. Lot of biker gangs in this world. You got anything more for me to work with?"

Trouble says " They are a biker gang outta the Cal-Free who roam the Ute Nation. They are registered in China Lake, Cali. Do some raiding and robberies in Ute Nation. Laweson runs China Lake. His man is the mayor and his man is the sheriff. They are funded by , amongst maybe other people, Mitsuhama Computer Tehcnologies, whose representative they are meeting at the truckstop tonight."

"Now that baby, is something I can work with. Front me 5 small to do the legwork, and we're golden. I'll get back to you in a few."

Trouble says " No worries, I'm good for the money. Speak to you soon." She hangs up.

Quills Calls Fran Frontline

------------------------> Contact for Quills (#3107) <-------------------------
Contact Name: Fran Frontline
Level: 1
Type: media producer
GM Note: Earnest Muckraker from MJLBB.
GM Note: B: 2 Q: 4 S: 2 C: 4 I: 4 W: 4 R: 4 KP: 3
«Auto-Judge[]» Quills (#3107) rolls Etiquette for "Yo, Fran, got a luke-warm tip for you!":
4 5 7

Quills has a lop-sided grin on his face when an idea lights it up… "On that note… I got one last call to make, I'll be right back," he says, pulling out his phone again and punching in a number waiting for Fran to pick up before launching into his offer, "Yo, Fran. I got a time-capsule lead for you, real charity-case story if you an get south o' town but take your time doing so so ya' don't spook the spooks."

"Oh? Q… Q… You got a story for me? Whats this, some kind of sad-sack tear jerker? Gimmie more intel."

Quills lays out the groundwork, "Gang outta' Ute, they're backed by Mitsu… deal's oing down south o' town, gonna get busted up. There'll be some evidence to tie things together, they're the Underdawgs, real nasty lot behind all the charity-work they claim to do. Ya' want to pass, s'fine, just thought I'd offer the worm, see if it's worth the hook for ya' to run the facts, but ya' can get first crack at the scene this way."

«Auto-Judge[]» Johny (#799) rolls 4 for "Mystery!":
2 2 2 3

"Yeah, that sounds likea real snorer omae, no offence, but I'm gonna a pass."

Quills nods, shrugging as he puts his phone away.

Trouble looks across at Quills. "How did your call go? I am just waiting for Thom to get back to me, then we can head over there, if that suits you."

Thom Calls Trouble Back

Maybe it's just serendipity that Trouble's phone rings at that time. It's Thom.

Quills says politely, "Eh, m'waitin' on you then, I got nothing holding me up at this point except gettin' my stuff from my car into your RV. Want to transfer here in tow… I'll wait," before turning to grab a refill on his drink.

Trouble answers her phone "That you Thom?", she says.

"Does anyone else you know have a six inch tongue, baby? Of course its me. And heres what I got for you. You got a pen?"

"A'ight. So. This Laweson dude, you're right. He's got a bunch of pull out in Cal Free, but he ain't maken any friends of the Pueblo, who are interested in him, but not ready to arrest or charge, if you follow. Ever since the PCC took Los Angeles, there's been an uptick of very directed out-law biker activity in the Mohave that gets attributed to the UnderDawgs. Now, the PCC doesn't want to upset Cal Free, who they are trying to prop up against the Japanese, so they havn't pressed the issue yet, but they'd like very much to prove a link between the Dawgs and the Japanese, that they could use to get Cal Free to step on him, or to allow -them- to step on him."

Trouble says "Thats great Thom, you got anything else for me?"

"Yeah. Five plane tickets out of Fresno to SLC, then SLC to Denver."

Trouble says "Any names on these tickets?"

"No baby, I'm sorry. Just that five men flew. It was a charter flight, ya know? I think I done good getten what I got."

Trouble says "You have. I appreciate it, but you can't blame a girl for trying."

Quills walks back over with his fresh drink in hand, chuckling and saying, "Any success at the attempt?" while Trouble's still on the phone but looks like she's finishing up.

"Oh trust me, Trouble. You're -very- trying. A'ight. I'm out. Hope it helps."

Back Underway

Trouble holds a hand up to Quills. "Almost done", she mouths. She pauses for a moment, saying "Later Thom" and turns back to talk to Quills. "Okay, Ever since the PCC took Los Angeles, there's been an uptick of very directed out-law biker activity in the Mohave that gets attributed to the UnderDawgs. Now, the PCC doesn't want to upset Cal Free, who they are trying to prop up against the Japanese, so they havn't pressed the issue yet, but they'd like very much to prove a link between the Dawgs and the Japanese, that they could use to get Cal Free to step on him, or to allow -them- to step on him." She pauses. "Thom also knows that five people flew out here. Presuming Laweson is one, that means he may have four others with him. Unless he hired some local people too."

Quills just… stops, brick-walled by the sheer volume of information Trouble shares… "Yeah… that'll be useful to know, but yeesh… five is a good hunk of protection for just one guy."

Trouble says to Quills. "So, I guess we have to make a move sooner or later. We can do any last minute planning in the RV. Wanna grab your stuff and head there? I parked at the far end of the car park."

Quills nods, saying, "I'll move my car over there, and transfer stuff then," as he pays his tab and heads out to get geared up in Trouble's RV.

Trouble starts to weave her way, through the patrons of the bar, ignoring a biker who grabs her butt, not even giving him a backward glance. She makes her way across the car park, to the RV and unlocks it,leaving the door slightly ajar, so that Quills can carry his stuff in.

Trouble starts to gather her own stuff together. She fetches her pair of black leather whips ,from their storage place, just incase things get nasty. She also grabs the essentials, her medkit, a stimulant and trauma patch and her micro -camera transciever. She also gets her camera sunglasses , nav dat and Maglock. She is already wearing her armor suit, under her clothing, and her long, black coat is a secure one, with wonderfully large inside pockets, for all her stuff.

Trouble pauses and goes back into her storage place, to grab her plasteel restraints, inserting those too, into her coat pocket. She slips behind the wheel of the RV and awaits Quills arrival.

Quills pulls his Americar up beside the RV, popping the trunk and heading around back to grab a duffel bag of clothes… a moment of rummaging, and the access panel in the back of the trunk is moved aside, two small lumps and a pre-measured stack of five things about the size of candy-bars is tucked into the duffel before he locks and closes the car up, heading to the RV and hopping inside. Once inside, he pulls on heavier but still close-fitting clothes, tucking the two guns in quick-draw concealable holsters inside the overcoat and the spare ammo into pockets while Trouble drives, no rush, might as well make sure everything's in it's place.

Trouble sets off, heading to the location. As she drives, she talks to Quills. "Do you have any more ideas? Or do you want to wait till we get there, and suss the place out?"

Quills shrugs a bit, "Let's recon the place I guess… I don't have any grand plans beyond maybe setting them up for an ambush when they leave their meet, like I said."

Trouble nods, as she drives, heading for the Castle Rock area. "Okay, lets wait till we get there then." She turns the radio on and sings along to a tune by Gangsterlicious.

At the Truck Stop

The Flying J is a sprawling facility, mostly dedicated to truck parking. Trucks are big, they need room to stretch out and be trucks. That kind of thing. So the central facility is a truck repair building, a shower and recreation building, a restaurant and then the -massive- fueling banks. The meet is supposed to happen in the restaurant building, which is connected via covered and heated walkway, to the recreation building.

Trouble pulls into the truckstop and parks the RV up. She looks out the window, for any signs of life. "We are probably a bit early yet, do you want to get out and take a look around? Or just watch from here?"

Quills shrugs, saying, "I'm not exactly inconspicuous except at places like body-mod clubs, hon. You plant me wherever you think I'm useful, but me walking into there would stick out like a chimney-sweep in a hospital."

One thing becomes very apparent very quickly. This is a VERY busy truck stop; with 4-6 trucks coming and going every minute and a host of smaller vehicles using the small super-market/store at the fueling operation.

Trouble smirks at Quills. I think I may stand out myself, I don't think I am the typical truck driver type…unless." Her face looks thoughtful, as if she is perhaps formulating a plan. "Do you think those waitresses step outside for breaks? If so, we could grab one. I don't mean to harm her, just..detain her for a little while, whilst I make myself look like her. Then I could go back in and listen in on the whole deal. Did I mention I have rather sharp hearing too?" She looks around," this place is very busy though. I wonder if they have a back door."

Quills cocks his head… then nods, "That might be a good idea. But we still have some time to kill, or should unless the other guys from out west are as early as we are."

«Auto-Judge[]» Trouble (#9888) rolls Intelligence:
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«Auto-Judge[]» Quills (#3107) rolls Intelligence:
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Maybe Trouble is distracted by the magnificenct cut of elven-meat that is Quills. Or maybe its the fact that Quills hasn't bathed today. OR maybe it's that trucker over there picking in his ass with his left hand, then sniffing it; but she doesn't spot what Q does.

Q spots, across the road from the truck stop, a dark colored GMC bulldog just sort of sitting there. Doing nothing.

Trouble nods. "I could always persuade one of them, to come another way. I could try and -command- her to." She glances across at Q, noticing he seems distracted. "You okay there Quills?"

Quills pauses… when Trouble gets his attention, he just lifts a hand, pointing out the window of the RV at the bulldog and saying, "That's not the one we're expecting… but it doens't look like it belongs here either."

Trouble frowns slightly. "Hm, I don't like the look of that", she comments. "Lets keep an eye on it, see if anyone gets out, or goes in." She takes out her pocsec. "May as well grab a license plate, whilst we are at it."

Trouble squints her eyes slightly, trying to make out the license plate. "I can't get it", she says, sighing. She slips her pocsec away and continues watching the vehicle.

Quills shakes his head, saying, "Bad angle, don't bother. It'll be a rental," as he steps back, moving over to look at a roof-hatch for the RV, trying to figure out if he could get out that way, stay out of sight of most folks on the ground as she says, "If that's theirs, the suitcase is likely inside still since the meeting's not on yet," as he checks the roof-vent…

The van sits there, across the road… being a van. The roof vent is not made to let metahuman shapes exit out of; it's a vent to keep the air fresh. Further, someone scrambling out the roof of an RV sticks out in peoples minds; it would be better to just go out the side door. An ugly elf is still a decent looking human.

Trouble says "I thought you said that wasn't theirs." She watches him check the roof vent, then adds. "You can't climb out of there, and don't you think they would keep the case with them?"

Text Message for Q: Rick sez: White Bulldog pulling in to parking lot now. Keys will be taped up under the front bumper. Via con dios, muchacho!

Quills pauses in his rooting around, sighing and throwing his hands up before saying, "Look… I'm just playin' it by ear, hon. I keep asking, you got any ideas? I'm all ears for them, no pun intended," as he checks that message… then glances out the windows, looking around again and saying, "Yeah… look for that thing's albino brother," as he gestures at the black bulldog van, looking around for a white sibbling.

Well, at least it doesn't have pink headlights. The white van pulls to a stop between two bigrigs a ways down from the RV, but within a quick walk that won't take too long.

Trouble frowns again, but keeps her tone calm. "I have suggested some things. I wasn't criticising you, just getting things clear." She starts looking around for any sign of a white bulldog ,and sees one pulling into the parking lot.

Doug Laweson, Leader of the UnderDawgs

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