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1081484 No. 1081484 ID: 32d7ee

Cyberpunk Mercenary Quest

It’s the year 2069. You’re Anon, a newbie mercenary. You’re not exactly a stranger to violence, but this is the first time you’re doing it with the promise of a proper payout and a team. Don’t fuck it up.

First time running a quest. Sorry for no art.

Pick your Weapon

Ol’ Reliable
An old assault rifle from the before times you dug out of a dumpster at the tender age of 12. Never jams, never fails you. You reload like it’s breathing and can’t lose this gun even if you tried. Has slightly less killing power compared to a modern rifle.

An advanced laser rifle. Charge up a shot and release for the leading brand in long-distance killing power. Comes with Vanilla, Explosive, Ricochet, and Piercer Flavors. Unwieldy and heavy in close quarters. Chargetime is a bitch in pitched scenarios.

Carrot and Stick
An orange revolver and brown revolver. To be dual wielded. Decent punch for pistols, but low firerate and somewhat annoying reload times. Probably objectively crappy at best, but you’ve found that things just go a bit better for you, and a bit worse for your enemies whenever you use them.

A modified Stun Gun. Lethal at high charges, painful at everything else. Shoot into a bot or computer to crudely hack it. Requires cooldowns between high uses. Grants character hacking skill. Careful no one cuts the wires, though the cutter will probably die from the shock.

A malfunctioning Repair Fluid module, it vomits flaming acidic flechettes when you point the nozzle at something. Lethal as hell, illegal as hell. Limited range. Works poorly on bots or cyborgs with enough heat-proofing and shiny bits. Not conducive to negotiations.

An prototype from Wizard Solutions. Holds 6 shots for semiauto, but you can consume 3 shots or even 6 shots at once for a patented BOOM. Low range, loud as shit, overuse of BOOMS may result in voiding the warranty as well as your limbs.

10001 Knives
A ridiculous amount of knives stored in a cloak. You must be really dedicated to this shtick if you wanna use these. Gives a stat boost to player character, intimidation bonus. Style points means making the company look good, paycheck bonus. Objectively the worst set of weapons on this list.

The Antique
Free augments. A sword from your grandpappy. You’ve trained with this for your whole life, you’ve spruced it up a bit, and can deflect bullets so long as there aren’t to many or they aren’t too fast. Using swords in this day and age are not impractical for people with augments, but using an antique instead of a modern blade attracts other sword wielding nutjobs.

Gives a randomly determined bonus for your sword at the end of character creation.

Pick a Trait

You got your genes spliced with some GMO’d lab lizard for some extra credits. Grants minor regeneration, heatvision, venomous bite, and scales. Mutant politics are awful right now. Try not to end up as a fancy rug or a sex slave to some rich freak.

Sadistic Music Factory
You perform much better in combat when listening to your favorite music, which you blare on your speakers to share the joy. You even have cameras installed in your eyes to record your work and upload to the net, netting you a small income. You don’t do stealth, and this has also put a target on your back by pissing off the friends and family of your “co-stars”.

Be warned: The DM has shit-ass/basic bitch taste in music. Provide your own or be shocked at my shit taste.

DAKKA (Incompatible with the killshot)
Accuracy? No. Damage? Nah. SHEER VOLUME? Fuck yes. Big firerate increase with all weapons, but you’re worse at aiming as a result, and ammo management is a skill you'll never master. You’ve trained yourself to reload as fast as you can to get back to shooting faster in an attempt to alleviate the issue of suddenly running dry. Terrible trigger discipline, you are genuinely looking for excuses to start shooting.

Integrated weapons
Like many others, you’ve opted to integrate your weapons with cybernetics. Unlike others, you’ve not opted to keep them discrete. Having a gun or knives for a hand is neat and all, especially since it ups your firepower due to leeching off your systems, but is a real pain in the ass when you need to wipe your ass. Seen as a bold fashion statement in some circles and a sign of “low class” in others.

Bullet time
A lifetime of abusing the shit out of chems has granted you the ability to slow your perception of time while retaining more speed than others in this slowed time. Overuse is a bad idea, and you need to keep your chem habit up if you want to keep this ability. Sharing is caring, and stealing is some people’s way of letting you know they don’t think you care enough.

Lucky Charms.
An assortment of knick-knacks from good times with friends and family long gone. You luck never leaves you for long, and you get a kick in the ass when the chips are down. Do it for them.

Pick your first mission

Security Detail
Guard Anas Beeber, an up and coming deer-spliced mutant celebrity at a concert. Expect stalkers, pervs, anti-mutant radicals, and “exotic hunters.” Try not to kill anyone too messily, and especially don’t say any stupid shit or act like a shithead in front of one of the cameras. Anas has that whole "innocent idiot" gimmick, and if too many sponsors pull out, she can’t give us a proper payout.
Decent Pay
Decent Risk

Bounty Hunt
Wage a miniature war in the slums for the head of Triplax, a trust fund kiddie who got a bit too deep into the hobo-hunting scene, enough for the bastards to pool their cash to get rid of him. Funny enough, the death count overall has fallen since the druggies are too busy running away from trippy to overdose and shank each other for drugs to overdose on. Expect to deal with the usual scum of the slums, as well as his high tech toys and overpaid security detail.
High Pay
High Risk

Precious Cargo
Get onto a boat and make sure no one jacks it. We’ve been paid for discretion, so don’t look inside the crates. Client has assured us we are not transporting weapons, debt-slaves, or Advent Salmon. Client has also informed us the gorier and more brutal the kills, the better, it’ll scare hijackers off.
Good Pay
Unknown Risk

Night Patrol
The Forska Police department just got bombed by some Glaggle worshipping nutjob, and they’re low on staff. Spend a few nights on patrol and help em meet their quotas. Specifically the ones that involve killing and hurting. Don't worry, you'd have to be blind, deaf, and stupid to not meet enough people who deserve some brutality in that shithole. Note that you’ll be partnered with two Blues rather than other mercs.
Low Pay
Low Risk
No. 1081485 ID: 5ebd37

Killshot (piercer), lizardman, security detail
Mutants need to look out for each other. Post up on overwatch and neutralize problems before they even get close. Laser blasts? No no, that's just part of the light show.
No. 1081494 ID: 32d7ee

You scratch between your scales as you hop onto the armored troop carrier. You’ve been assigned to protect some up and coming celebrity. You don’t keep up with music industry too much, but her songs are better than the usual corporate propaganda slop that barely count as songs, let alone good. It’s also nice to see another mutant doing well for themselves in an industry that isn’t porno or violence, though you guess you aren’t really helping with the second thing. You check your phone to quickly review your briefings.

There are three general teams for this mission.

Bodyguarding- staying close to Anas,
Posting- Climbing into a guard tower, checkpoint, or other vantage point and firing upon any threats
Security- Basically acting like a bouncer and mingling amongst the crowd


That you do not engage in anti-mutant behavior or language while on camera
That your kills be clean and quick if on camera.
That you do not disrupt the concert unless it is absolutely neccessary
That you do not drink non Fizzer or Fazzer drinks besides unbranded water or otherwise imply they are a inferior product to any other drinks.

Unless you want to suffer a PAY CUT.

Your weapon is the Killshot: Piercer model, which offers superior long-ranged penetrating firepower, making small little holes in everyone you don't like, at the cost of longer charge times. While making neat little holes is great against fleshier and smaller targets, fat bastards or bots generally aren’t as bothered. Collateral kills are sweet, though, and even the tankiest bastard is going to have issues functioning with a hole in their had.

You also have a standard issue pistol, along with a combat knife, though you doubt you'll need it since you have your "natural" claws and teeth.

As you complete your final checkups, a somewhat uncomfortable silence settles over the group as the transport makes its way to the concert venue.

There are currently at least twenty other mercenaries on the transport, and three of them stand out to you as to at least not just blow you off if you try to talk to them.
>Sit back and relax until you reach the venue, you don’t have to talk to anyone.
>Talk to a cowboy looking motherfucker that’s starting real hard at you. Seriously, he’s got a cigar and hat and everything.
>A Blue eyed Cyborg trying very hard to paint a decent looking skull on her face. She’s not doing that well, despite her fully metallic arms.
>a Guy in a… bathrobe that’s currently muttering to a giant glaive.
No. 1081500 ID: 5ebd37

Cyborg at least seems not crazy, offer to help with the facepaint.
No. 1081508 ID: 32d7ee

You shuffle over to the cyborg woman, and inquire if she wants some help with her facepaint. Her eyes flash briefly in surprise, literally. They go from a dull black to a small pulse of orange and blue.
“Oh! Yeah, sure, that’d be great! Just, uh, let me grab a picture up…”
She awkwardly fiddles with her phone and brings out a reference picture, it’s some skeleton guy wearing some weird battle armor with a hoodie draped over it. She hands you the paintbrush. You realize it’s not facepaint, but it’s normal, regular ass “art” paint. You ask if it doesn’t get irritating when it dries out.
“Oh, well, uh, actually, the front of my face is an augment I kinda skimped on, so I can’t really feel anything too strongly… well, like, unless it’s painful or something.”
She extends out her arms.
“I, uh, made a mistake when swapping my arms out, forgot to carry the zero and all that so I had to skimp on something.”
A few minutes pass while you attempt to replicate the strange lanky skeleton’s face.
“Oh right, I almost forgot to introduce myself! My name’s Arial! ...So… uh… are you also new here? ”

>“Name’s Anon, yeah, total newbie to this, actually.”
>“I guess, how long have you been with Mercs4Cash?”
>(Joke) “No, I’m actually a million year old reincarnation of the first caveman to bash in someone’s head for some berries.”
>write in
No. 1081509 ID: 32d7ee

*Her eyes go from a dull blue
No. 1081510 ID: 795471

(write in if that's alright)yeah I'm pretty new at this, but money is money and you get to meet interesting folks(gesture at cowboy and bathrobe)
No. 1081529 ID: 32d7ee

>yeah I'm pretty new at this, but money is money and you get to meet interesting folks(gesture at cowboy and bathrobe)

As you gesture at the other two mercenaries, you notice that Cowboy is still staring at where you were originally sitting. …Has he blinked at all since you’ve noticed him, actually? Bathrobes notices you, but gives a jerky wave before going back to muttering to his glaive.
“Yeah, cash is everything, especially if you’re like me.”
She rotates her wrist around, and a LED lights up in the center of her palm.
“I actually tried being one of those pit fighters for a while, but those pay like shit if you’re not going to do a whole lotta bullshit to keep the fights “interesting”.”
“I joined up last month, but I’ve only been on one other job, and I didn’t even get to see the target before some guy blew his head into pieces. I think the guy with the glaive might have been on the team, but I’m not sure.”
You continue making small talk with Arial about her last job as a pit fighter. You hear music start to blare from outside the transport. You’re almost there, and you’ve pretty much finished the skull.
“Nice, finally! It’s not that talking to you wasn’t cool and all, but this ride smells like swampass.”
You put the finishing touches on the skull, and Arial gives you a thumbs up after she takes a quick selfie to take a look at it.

>”Well, I guess that one job technically makes you my senior. Any tips?”
>“You know anyone else on this job?”
>“What weapons you got, anyway?”
>Write in
No. 1081555 ID: 795471

so what weapons are you packing? Anything fun?
No. 1081557 ID: 32d7ee

"so what weapons are you packing? Anything fun?"

Arial begins tinkering with her arms.
“Well, I got the same pistol as you, course, everyone gets those, but I also got some general fitness and agility augs, as well as these two “guns””
She flexes her arms and cracks a grin at her own pun.
“So I didn’t need the knife. I got a wire whip in each of my arms, and I’m planning to install some more stuff once I got the cash. Honestly, I probably shoulda just upgraded the one in my dominant arm instead of getting two.”
"I really want one of those fancy deployable hover guns one day."
The transport jerks to a halt, and you hear a loud THUNK sound coming from somewhere in the transport as Arial's phone beeps twice. She pulls it out and taps on the screen a few times.
“Alright, I got assigned to… the fuck?” She shows you her screen, which says
stiNgpot-poitnchek VIP
“Uh, mind me checking yours real quick?”
Your phone reads… exactly the same thing.
“Well… that’s unhelpful. It's cool that we got the same assignment I guess, even if we can't read it. Uh, I guess you could go talk to the platoon leader and checkup, but I can’t be bothered, honestly. I’m just gonna head to that room and blame the internet if it turns out it’s a mistake.”
The transport door opens, and people begin getting off. Arial turns to you and taps a few buttons on your phone, taking note of your name.
“Lemme give you my number so we can talk later. Sorry to run off so fast, but I gotta use the washroom before I head to "stingpot".”
Arial dashes off and gives you a quick wave as she joins the group jostling to get off the foul smelling transport as fast as they can.
“See you there! Or not! Good Luck!”
As you grab your weapons, you realize that that THUNK-ing sound was from the Cowboy faceplanting off of his seat when the transport stopped. No one’s checking up on him, but at the very least, he appears to be breathing.

>Get off and head to room 300
>Poke the cowboy
>Get off and find someone to make sense of these terrible instructions
>write in
No. 1081584 ID: 5ebd37

Head to room 300, but keep an eye out for ambushes.
No. 1081593 ID: 32d7ee

You head off the transport and make your way to the main arena. Fizzer and Fazzer arena was founded as a sign of peace after Fizzer and Fazzer stopped trying to murder each other in the drink market and had a peaceful merger after their mutual vice presidents had a star-crossed romance. Actually pretty wholesome, except for the part where they brutally murdered the CEOS and boards of directors with chainsaws to take over the companies and start the merger.
You don’t let your guard down, and make your way into the arena. You don’t spot anyone that’s not supposed to be carrying guns doing so, save for a few kids with nerf guns and the such running around the lobby. As you’re keeping a keen eye out, out of the corner of your eye, you see a man wearing a M4$ issued helmet slumped in a corner, messily draped in rags and a bottle taped to their hand, making them appear like a bum to a casual observer. No one else seems to have noticed this. Upon closer inspection, they appear to be sleeping.
You cautiously make your way over, and poke them a few times with the business end of your rifle.
“Wha? What’s happening? W-where am I?”
He rubs his eyes, and after blinking a few times, he realizes what’s happened to him.
“Shit, thanks for waking me up man, I think some hobos dressed in purple jumped me from behind for my food.”
He groans as he rubs his head and scratches his orange goatee.
“Hey, mind not telling anyone about this? It’s not like I lost anything important, I still got my gun. I’ll uh, give you a beer later?”
He gestures to a silenced SMG painted with neon green flames and a strange attachment to the magazine.
“Please? It’s my first job with this group, I can’t get kicked out of another company.”

>“Yeah, whatever, tell me more about those purple weirdos first. Did they have weapons?”
>“You sure they didn’t take anything else besides your, uh… food?”
>“Dude, you were in full combat gear and lost in a fight with two hobos, no way someone else didn’t record that.”
>Write in.
No. 1081651 ID: 5ebd37

Tell him you'll let it slide, but only if he can translate the bizarre instructions on your phone.
No. 1081669 ID: 32d7ee

Before you can even take out your phone, he makes a raspberry sound with his mouth, though it’s a air of general annoyance directed at the “bizarre instructions” than you.

“Those? Yeah, that’s easy, the guy in charge of em- our “platoon leader” is high on combat stims 24/7, some fucked-up spinal implant. Makes his hands jitter like shit whenever he’s not fighting or killing shit. The basics should still be accurate though.”

You ask him how he knows this despite it being his first job with the company.
“Oh, easy, I went up to him to complain about the “glitched” instructions earlier and he proceeded to yell at me like he caught me fucking his daughter or something. Threatened to cut my face off and everything.”
“Some other official looking chick pulled me aside and told him he had… uh… a Fluxon implant in his spine or something?”
“I didn’t get it as bad as the next guy to ask though, I think he really did start to cut off his face before some the same chick stepped in. …Babe was a total hottie though, so I think the experience was net neutral for me.”
“No fucking clue why they put a guy like that in charge of typing all that shit though, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe he’s banging some executive.”

He takes a look at your phone’s instructions.
“Oh yeah, she said that means you’re in the skybox, ready to pop a hole in any sucker stupid enough to rush the stage. I’m at the same place, except I’m helping vet the VIPS.”
“Here, I’ll show you mine so you don’t think it’s a problem with your phone or some shit.”
He rifles around his pockets. And he keeps rifling. Then he turns them out, and then he begins flicking his head around the room in a panic.
“...Oh shit dude, I think those hobos took my phone.”
He slumps down to the ground in the hope that being at eye level with the ground will make it easier to find the phone.
“Aw balls, they really took it! Shit! Fuck!”
By now, the crowds are getting denser, with no hint of purple in sight, just the neon greens and earthy browns associated with Anas, and it’s getting closer to when your ass will be in hot water if you don’t make it to your station.

He panics for a few more seconds before whirling back at you, and he’s twitching slightly in his right eye.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, now I know this looks real bad but remember, it’s not like I don’t know where I’m stationed or anything, same as you, Room 300, skybox, vetting VIPs and shit. They gotta list of which mercs are stationed too, so it’s not a huge deal or anything.”
He glances around the room to make sure no one’s listening in as the twitching spreads to his head and upper body.

“Look, I’ll owe you one if you just don’t tell anyone, alright? I got a backup and everything, so it’s not like I can’t radio you if shit hits the fan, all that’s missing is the instructions. I know where you can visit a safe, nice little-outta-the-way underground casino, I’ll split my paycheck, I got a few favors from a gun store I can call in!”

The man then does the world’s most telegraphed dramatic pause, while his entire body looks like a sexdroid with a modded vibrate setting.

“and if you do tattle, you’d be putting old calvin outta house and home, and then they’ll take my kidneys, and my kidneys are no good, no sir, and what if you, good sir, one day, end up on the operating table, and see ol’ calvy’s kidneys heading towards ya? You’ll either die of the guilt or by my crappy kidneys. All cause you couldn’t forgive a man for being a bit too distracted by a nice, succulent chili dog to notice two weirdos in purple slamming on him from behind.”

“You don’t even gotta cover for me, just don’t mention it dude, plausible deniability and everything... Please? I’ll owe you a big one! No, two, three, wait, Scratch that! Big four!”

>“I want all of the things you mentioned in exchange for my silence.”
>Leave “Old Calvin” to his own devices and just make your way to Room 300, implicitly accepting the deal.
>Pretend to accept the deal and dial a quick message to the official channels reserved for emergencies.
>write in
No. 1081706 ID: 5ebd37

He's acting a little too desperate, pretend to accept the plan and discretely message the company. Probably should call someone other than the platoon leader though.
No. 1081713 ID: 32d7ee

You give a thumbs up to “Old Calvin” upon which he slowly stops twitching, and mimes locking up his mouth and shooting the Key with his SMG. You briefly have a minor flash of panic where you swear you think you see it fire, as well as hear it, but you must have just reacted poorly to the fact that the weird rocky-metal thing on his magazine lit up as waved it around, after you whip your head around to check the mass panic. People are jaded, but not that jaded, and at the very least they’d be concerned about a gunshot. Calvin taps you on the shoulder and jots his thumb towards the toilet.

“Alright, I gotta head to the pisser real quick, but you should hurry on up.”

The weird attachment on his gun continues to glow as he does a piss-dance to the toilets. You think it sorta looks like a nanite mod, but you really have no idea why it looks so weird. You make your way through the crowds a little, still remaining cautious of ambushes, even more so that apparently the hobos here are strangely brazen enough to try and bum-rush a mercenary, even if they’re from behind and distracted.

After finding an elevator, you step in, punch in level 3, and thumb into the communications channel for emergencies. You don’t have permission to call/radio officials, just other grunts like you. In the channel, you can't see any option in who you send this to, but surely, they couldn’t have really put a twitchy chemhead in charge of all communications, right?
You type in the following message, just to check.
“Reporting security breach, but can I please know who I’m messaging first?”
“Fc kin Idompotejntym, youiifre skekignh to ujjyor platooooooin leaderrrr, hurry the fcukjk uoip i hat tying om tis ting. ”
Well shit.
You suddenly think you hear a small hiss from behind you, but as you whip around to take a quick glance you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Might just be the mechanics and shit.

>Full truth- “Some guy named Calvin got jumped and his phone was stolen by two purple hobos. Nothing else, though.”
>Half Truth- “Uh, some guy named Calvin got attacked by two hobos in purple, but he’s fine now. They’re still wandering around though, probably.”
>Lie- “Oh wait, my bad, I thought I lost my phone, but I just realized I’m messaging you on my phone”
>Delay- "Uh, what? Sorry, can't understand you." and investigate the sound.
>Write in
No. 1081714 ID: 32d7ee

*Check the mass panic to see nothing.
No. 1081797 ID: 5ebd37

Half-truth, we really only need to confirm that he's a member of the company and not someone in disguise with a ridiculous alibi.
No. 1081810 ID: 32d7ee

You give the Platoon commander the basics of the situation, leaving out some details that makes Calvin look bad, but making sure to describe him in as much detail as possible to root out if he’s a guy pretending to be in the company. The hissing noise continues throughout your conversation, but enough that’s it’s probably the mechanics.


Your phones begins ringing, and you pick it up to hear the voice of someone that would definitely be on chems.

“Y-Ou! Shithead! Y-you sure it was TWO? TWO? You p-put holes in em yet? Bled out!?”

You confirm that yes, it was two “purple hobos,” say that neither you, or Calvin killed either of them and follow up on checking if “Calvin” is in fact, with M4$ and not some wackass terrorist with a habit for terrible alibis.


The line explodes into expletives for a few seconds after you .

“A-a fuckin’ m-major c-coordinated infli-b-b-reach on a in-sured b-babysitting for the chickadees, MEANT TO BE A TREAT FOR ME, k-kiss my a-ass!”
“L-listen to m-me g-good, shithead, some other c-cowboy f-fuckup g-ot his phone s-tolen, by “two p-p-purple varmits” in the transport and I bet that patchy-bearded, illiterate, shit smelling fuc-kup got his stolen by two purples and hasn’t noticed it yet!”
“T-two more p-people on YOUR f-fucking transport than there was supposed to be too! Thought logistics b-bundled more freshies as a last minute bullshit! Shit! TELL ME EVERYONE YOU SAW ON THE TRANSPORT NOW.”

You tell him about Cowboy, Glaive-bathrobes, and Arial.

“Shit-shit, No, NO, NO! Fuck! Hilda! Get the fuc-k o-over here an-and t-type w-hat I t-t-tell you to a-after I-I’m done this call!”
“You! Shithead! When you s-ee-hear Calvin again, g-get t-that f-fuckup to c-call me! Do it or die! SHIT! …What?”

You hear some muttering on the line not coming from your chemhead platoon leader.

"FINE! L-look, shithead, d-don’t… uh, w-worry about C-alvin, since… he’s… new… I’m only g-going to…. d-dock his pay, by… thirt- what?! H-hilda!? What? WHY!? Th-the cowboy!? Fine… ten percent, and I… w-will not rip his face off. …UNLIKE THAT SHITHEAD THAT MADE FUN OF MY-”

The line goes dead, and soon you see the following message popup on screen.


Insured contracts for mercenary companies and similar occupations are very simple. For normal contracts, the more mercenary company fucks up, the less they have to pay you, with a complete shitshow resulting in owing money. With insured, the fuckup to discount ratio is much, much higher, and it’s much easier to incur a huge debt.

It’s easily enough that the “Kill us” part might be literal if the executive seeing the bill is in a shitty mood.

Well shit. You suppose it was better that you told them than not, you better get to your station quick. The elevator finally *dings* as you reach floor three, and you turn your safety off, just in case. You make your way to room 300 while making sure to check for ambushes.
No. 1081811 ID: 32d7ee

After getting a bit lost, you make your way up through the arena, and arrive at a velvet lined hallway leading to a set of double wide doors with a neon sign that says “SKYBOX” above it, and see a few other mercenaries waiting around, along with Arial... and Calvin who is sweating bullets. The other mercenaries are trying to make sense of the announcement. You hear him muttering as you approach.

“Oh God, oh god, oh god. Well, I guess I could call in that favor at the shop and get a job there, then I can beg Tony to buy some of his stock from that store, and then if I can win just two rounds of buckshot spinner, I’ll have a decent chance of making it out with at least half a liver!”

He jumps as he sees you approach and slides towards you with all the grace and dignity of a pig that’s been shanked in the ribs.

“Man-man-man, why’d you snitch!? I wasn’t lyin’ when I said they were gonna take my kidneys, hell, I owe them more than that! And then-”

You cut him off, informing that you still covered for him, and the platoon leader promised that he would only get a ten precent pay cut because he’s new and another guy also fucked up.

“Oh, oh, Phew. Lead with that next time, will ya?”

“A-alright, ten percent isn’t… great, but uh, yeah! Thanks for coverin’ me, my good chum, but uh, I am not gonna be able to afford that beer for you cause of that pay cut. I’ll still give you that in to that gunshop, cause I ain’t gonna be able to afford new gear for a while.”

Arial notices you two talking and walks over.

“Crazy shit for our first real jobs, right? Let’s hope there isn’t any more… uh… shit, I forgot my joke. Oh hey, Who’s your friend, are they also new?”

Calvin flinches a little upon seeing her skull face, but awkwardly extends his hand.

“Uh, Calvin, first job with M4$, but I’ve been with a few other companies before.”
“Oh, what made you switch to this company?”
“Uh… I… Sayyyyy, how do you two know each other, anyway?”

This deflection could not be more obvious if performed by a thousand foot tall ninja samurai bouncing away a continent wide death ray from a alien battleship the size of Jupiter. Arial either fails to notice, or decides not to pry.

“Anon talked to me on the transport, he helped me get my facepaint ready.”
“Oh, he’s uh, real good at it, yeah. You said you wer-”

Suddenly two humongous twin Bouncers emerge from the doors dressed in Anas Beeber Merch, their heads nearly scraping the ceiling. Must be vat grown or super roided or… something. One of them, one with a pair of Black sunglasses, speaks up.

“Ugh, alright, don’t know why you guys decided to meet up this early, but I guess this is fine…”

He takes out a tablet and scrolls through it quickly while he skims the crowd while counting.

“Alright, I’ll make this quick. I’m Darren. You two, will help me vet the VIPs. You two, will help Mike throw out any shitheads. And you three with the sniper rifles, sight the crowds for idiots trying to ruin the concert, but don’t shoot unless they pull out a gun or some shit, or we give the order.”

A man with a tattoo of a white wolf corpse that curls all the way across his bald head armed with a shotgun, along with another man with a surprisingly pristine white rifle and some grungy looking grey armor with an orange visor are assigned to VIP vetting.

Arial and Calvin are assigned to help Mike in the skybox.

You and two guys who are either borgs or wearing mechanical masks, one wearing a blue cloak and one a red, are the snipers.

As you make your way into the skybox, Darren continues explaining your jobs.

“We’re expecting some trouble, but honestly you guys are mostly here for intimidation, so just zip it, and don’t talk to the VIPs unless they talk to you first. It’ll be a while until anyone shows up. That’s Danny, the bartender. You guys get free non-alcoholic drinks.”

He points to the bar, and a weedy man with a ridiculous mustache comes out.


“He scares easy, and if you mess with him or any other paying customer you get your pay cut in half after I snap your legs in half. VIPS aren’t due for a while, so just… hang out, I guess.”

He claps his hands to close off his sentence.

The two mercenaries assigned to the door appear to immediately resume a heated debate about… hot dogs? Arial begins talking to Mike, the bouncer, and Calvin makes his way to the bar and starts chugging sodas. Redcloak and Bluecloak pause for a moment before they begin to talk to each other from what you hear, it’s about… some tv show you think you’ve heard of before.

Wat do
>Get some (Root) beers with Calvin
>Approach Redcloak and Bluecloak
>Join the Hotdog debate.
>Talk to Arial
>Write in
No. 1081812 ID: 32d7ee

Mistyped my name in the previous posts by accident. Sorry.
No. 1081837 ID: b1699a

You know it’s probably just me being paranoid, but what if the argument about hot dogs is coded speech? Like I said it’s probably nothing but it wouldn’t hurt to eavesdrop a little. Also see who likes or hates you based on the fact that you a scalie
No. 1081850 ID: 32d7ee

You decide to start by eavesdropping on the two men arguing over hotdogs. As you approach, you realize that Darren is rapidly regretting hastily pairing them together as he takes off his sunglasses and rubs his eyes as they continue their… heated debate… over… hot dog condiments.
The man in the grungy armor has a slight electronic fuzz to his voice as it passes through his helmet.

“Screw you, just because you can’t use Relish properly doesn’t mean it’s bad, you tasteless idiot.”

The man with the wolf corpse tattoo sounds like he’s swallowed sixteen razor blades and chased them down with a cocktail of lemon juice and rubbing alcohol.

“No, no, no, if I have to swirl the bottle, make sure everything’s lined up right, and have a goddamn paper towel just in case there’s pickle water, it’s not worth the goddamn time or effort.”
“Well, you like corndogs, so clearly you don’t value any semblance of quality in your food.”

The Tattooed man spits onto his pinkie as before he vigourously begins digging it into his ear.

“You’re the fucking one who eats shit so bad you apparently need to drown it in every rank condiment you can find.”
“Right. Like Chili dogs are any different. Why don’t you just eat a bowl of chili and get a grilled cheese if you’re going to do all of that to a hot dog.”
“Oh, motherfucker, are you seriously saying that when you put SAUERKRAUT on your hot dogs?”

The man with the grungy armor picks at a stubborn piece of dirt.

“Yeah, because unlike you, I’m not some sort of crazy person who eats hot dogs with no condiments, but only if it’s on a damn whole wheat bun.”
“You lunkheaded fool, of course unsauced dogs taste like shit when you use white bread, it’s the worst type of bread for unsauced dogs!”
“So what, you have two different packs of hot dog buns in your house? What a bother.”
“Right, like having to stack on six million condiments on a single dog isn’t more of a pain in the ass.”

If this is some sort of code, you can’t make heads or tails of it, and you’re not sure if code speaking terrorists would really go for the “no one that wants to be noticed would do this” strat, since they’re now yelling loud enough that most of the people in the room are staring at them, except Calvin, who is apparently trying to convince his body that soda water is alcoholic, and the two cloaked guys who are still talking to each other, you think.

The armored man spots you being the closest to them and turns to his… “rival.”

“Look, how about we ask the other guys, since clearly you’re too thickheaded to listen to reason?”

The Tattooed man rolls his eyes

“Yeah, fuck no, ones a mutant, one’s got a cheap face implant, one’s drinking fucking raw soda water, I don’t even know how those two freaks would even eat without a mouth slot or nutrient hole, but I’m sure it’s disgusting, that wimpy bartender’s just going to agree with me because I’m more intimidating, and both of the the bouncers are just going to tell you to-”

Darren buries his massive face in his equally massive hands

“Please shut up…”

The Tatooed man does not get the hint.

“Yeah, that.”

The armored man looks a bit confused.

“Wait, I kinda get the rest cept that crap about the food holes, but what’s wrong with the mutant?”

Bald man quickly glances at you and pauses for a moment before continuing.

“Look, every single mutant I’ve ever met always ends up adding something… “unusual” to their food and they never realize it. Remember my uncle Vince? He ended up eating molding cheese for every meal.”
“Isn’t that just like blue cheese?”
“He said the exact same fucking thing when we caught him rubbing a block of it all over some black mold. Did you not read up on Anas? Yeah, she eats raw grass and poison berries. Eli Claw started eating his opponent live on TV, and that was like, totally fucking hardcore, and they shouldn’t have banned him for that, but like, you’re not gonna eat a guy raw like that, at least not if it’s not covered in all that crappy makeup Zald was wearing. …fuckin’ bullshit, coulda kicked Nog’s ass… …Actually, now that I think about it, wasn’t Zald wearing some new fuckin taster oil or something? …wonder if it’d taste good if I used the same sauce with that mouthy bitch…”

You now realize the Bald man’s tattoo was the symbol of Eli Claw, a pro division K-GE-MAT-KH wrestler, who uh… did expelled, for exactly that. It was a non-lethal match, but in his defense, Zald did actually, not-in that weird “keyfob” thing, fuck his wife shortly before. He and his fans were always known for being a bit loony...

The bald man continues to mutter, and the grungy man appears to have been shocked into silence, leading most of the room to go back to ignoring them.

“Wait, did you just say you ate someone before?”

The Claw fan stops muttering, and speaks in a normal voice,

“Wha- Oh right, and those fucking cloaked bastards don’t have a proper food input on their face. That means they do some gross shit to get nutrients in there. Really, really rare to see some nutjobs do some shit like that, cause it’s expensive as shit. …Actually… wait, how the hell could newbie mercenaries affor-”

“You ate someone?”
“Ah, shit, you made me lose my train of thought, whatever, your taste is shit, your armor is shit, your gun is shit, and your brain is shit. Fuck off and don’t bother me until we gotta guard the damn door.”

The debate seems to have ended, as the Tattooed man wanders off to angrily mutter more about wrestling and… cannibalism. It’s not technically illegal, and legality means basically nothing in this city, but it’s generally regarded as weird and gross at best. You don’t think anyone but the armored man and you heard that stuff about the cannibalism, but Calvin might have heard about the “cloaked bastards” depending on if he managed to placebo himself into getting drunk.

The armored man blinks a few times, and heads over to the bar to ask for (non-alcoholic) beer.

Calvin was sitting decently close the the conversation, and he appears to be signaling you over.
Maybe. He’s just kind of tugging on his thumb a bunch while sorta looking in your direction.

Arial and the other bouncer continue speaking to one another.
Darren is starting at the ceiling, completely checking out.
The Cloaked guys have not stopped talking to each other all this time.

>Follow the Claw fan and ask him what he was saying about the two cloaked guys while trying to avoid suspicion.
>Move over to Calvin and ask what’s up.
>Eavesdrop on the cloaked guys
>Ask Darren when the VIPs are going to get here.
>write in
No. 1081950 ID: eb7ce4

Let’s see what’s up with our buddy Calvin, maybe he’s got something interesting to say?
No. 1081961 ID: 32d7ee

As you approach, Calvin chugs down another glass of carbonated soda water.

“Heyyyyy, Anon, nice of you to join me. Hey- *HIC* D-danny, get him some mcfucking… uh… you like Ginger Ale? Yeah, ginger ale! That’s good!”

Is… he actually getting drunk off the soda water or did the bartender mix up the taps or something? You take a quick sniff of one of his empty glasses, and it’s just that weird stale smell from freshly pumped soda water.
As Danny comes with some Ginger Ale, Calvin slumps down onto the table, and darts his eyes around as he whispers out of the edge of his mouth.

“Hey, don’t ya think those cloaked guys and that grungy guy are acting a little… suspicious? Like, I didn’t think they were weird, but like-”

He fumbles with his jacket, pulling out a battered looking phone. Must be the backup he mentioned earlier. He quickly taps in a passcode and starts playing a fuzzy recording of the two cloaked mercenaries. Their voices are nearly identical, but you think the red one, the first to speak, has a slightly higher fuzz to it.

“I think Season 9 was really slowed down by the shitstorm caused by the reception to Season 8.”
“Yes, didn’t the script writers change up the writing in response?”
“Sort of, they changed a bunch of things I do not feel would matter to you and us, but in the finale, they had Tirek and Cozy Glow play it more aggressively while Chrysalis was made to act more subtly. She attacked at the middle of the coronation rather than at the start. They were also not stoned in the end.”
“I’m glad they got redemption in the end. The original plan for the show was bad.”
“Yes. The new writing is much better.”

You really don’t know what you just heard, but Calvin is twitching again. Danny is trying to stay as far away as possible from any mercenaries, so he slid away without hearing the recording.

“A-and look at that grungy guy, he’s like, the definition of suspicious right now.”

The grungy guy is currently edging away from the cannibal while looking around the room, probably to check if anyone else heard what he did. You decide not to tell Calvin about the whole "eating a mouthy bitch” thing, and ask him what he meant by the recording. His twitching intensifies as he scoots over closer to you.

“All of that shit was, like- super wrong, except for the season 8 reception thing, like- like-, they’re talkin’ about this uh, kid’s show. T-the only reason I know it’s plot is because my, uh landlord’s kids watch it all the damn time and- look, like, no way that isn’t some sort of code.”
“I- uh, never heard about a leak even when I- the kids, were really into that show. Everyone complained about the ending all the damn time cause they DID stone those three, so that one episode with them bonding was pointless, and dear sweet mercy, don’t even get me started on what they did with Sombra's backstory and Gro- wait, getting off-track. Look, the point is that they’ve been spouting strange shit that even a casual watcher would get right. If you like, talk to them or something and they say more weird stuff, I can like, record it and shit, and I’ll send it to the platoon leader.”

>Tell Calvin to message the Platoon Leader about details about the guys that clocked him first
>Agree to Calvin’s Plan
>Tell him the man in the grungy armor is just nervous because his hot dog worldview was smashed apart
>Tell him the man in the grungy armor is just nervous because of the cannibalistic pro-wrestling fan
>write in
No. 1081980 ID: 5ebd37

>Agree to Calvin’s Plan
It wouldn't hurt to humor him, we need to kill time anyway.
No. 1082010 ID: 32d7ee

Fuck it, why not, worst thing that happens is… well, actually, worst thing that could happen whenever people are holding weapons are pretty bad, but hopefully at worst they’ll just get a bit pissy if they somehow find out Calvin’s recording them. That seems unlikely, as they’re still talking about a show that you know fuck-all about and have basically ignored everything happening around them.

“The writing for the arc with Flash Sentry was very good, and was completed within a decent time frame.”
“Yes, what do you think about the writing for the arc where they infiltrated the castle of the Umbrum?”
“I think that one is dragged on.”
“That is disappointing.”
“Are you ready for the fantastic writing of the finale?”
“Yes. Unless something big happens.”
“We shall continue to wait, then.”

You quickly glance over the Calvin, who is kind of freaking the fuck out for some reason, he’s doing the full-body twitch thing. The two other snipers notice you approach, and very slowly turn to face you. You get a better look at their faces. They appear identical, mostly smooth chromed metal with two long vertical lights running along the sides. They are blue on the red cloaked mercenary, and red on the blue cloaked mercenary. They’re completely covered in their cloaks, but you can see protruding bulges in their cloaks. The red one speaks first, followed by the second one.

“Hello. Do you require something of us?”
“If not, would you kindly leave us alone?”

Shit. You didn’t expect them to stop talking so quickly.

> Gentle BLUFF-“Hey, I watch that show you guys were talking about, it's just always nice to meet a fellow fan.”
> “Just wanted to introduce myself, how did you guys get into this line of work, not mercenary, but like, sniping in particular?”
> “This might be kinda rude, but I was wondering how you guys eat with those face implants. Is there like a hole in your spine or something?”
> Forceful BLUFF-“Dude, I thought you guys had shit opinions before, but now I think you you guys are just on chems now! The Umbrum castle “arc” if you can even call it that, was two episodes. If anything, that was underdeveloped! And sure, the Flash Sentry arc was decent... if you ignore the repugnant upchuck that was the cabbage farmer mini-arc.”
>Write in
No. 1082109 ID: 5ebd37

> Just wanted to introduce myself
Talk shop, what're they packing? How do they want to set up, vis a vis, sightlines?
No. 1082257 ID: 32d7ee

> Just wanted to introduce myself
Talk shop, what're they packing? How do they want to set up, vis a vis, sightlines?

You introduce yourself as Anon, and ask for their names, as well as their weaponry and sightlines.

The one in the red cloak stiffly replies as his Blue LEDs on his otherwise featureless face light up slightly as he speaks.
“I am Red.”
The other one waits a few moments before addressing you.
“I am Blue.”
“Yes, as my brother says. His name is Blue. I am his brother. You can see that he is wearing all blue, while I am wearing all Red. This is because those are our favorite colors. We are new to the company, so it is greatly improbable you have seen us before despite our noticeable appearances.”
“Yes, I am wearing Blue and named Blue because my favorite color out of all the colors is blue.”
While they appear mostly identical outside of their color choices, you notice that Red is slightly stockier and taller than his brother.

You decide to extend your hand for a handshake, because you’re pretty sure all the chill, cool professional snipers do that sort of thing when meeting other snipers, and they’re either living up to the image or trying really hard to. Unfortunately, both of them instead just stare at your arm. After a few awkward moments, Blue pipes up, his Red LEDs lighting up.
“...Sorry, we dislike handshakes.”

Red then resumes the conversation.
“I am not well versed in the intricacies in our weapons, my brother is better.”
Blue doesn’t appear to appreciate being put on the spot, as he slightly jerks upon hearing Red saying this.
Blue shifts slightly under his cloak. You think he’s fiddling with his rifle at first, but then you realize that he’s just kind of moving his hands… in front of his crotch. Gross. At least it just kinda looks like he’s scratching it instead of the other thing. At least he stops pretty quickly. Seemingly unaware that you’ve realized what he’s doing, he begins informing you of their weaponary.
“We likely both possess the standard issue combat pistol and knife, as does my brother.”
“I do not have other armaments besides my rifle, like my brother, and despite my brother’s desire to do so, he definitely does not have any sort of advanced melee weapons on him.”
…Was that a cock joke or something?
“We both possess Aceway MK2 longshots. My brother has made some alterations to his weaponry while mine is mostly unmodified, making his larger, which is explained by his modifications.”
“They possess good firepower, average range, and average accuracy, and my brother’s has been modded to increase it’s firepower further.”
Ugh, Mk2 longshits? That description was certainly generous. They aren’t… completely horrible, you could definitely do a lot worse, but they’re still kind of bad. The Mk1’s were energy rifles created as an attempt to further blend the lines between marksman rifles and snipers. It was a decent success, but the idiots making them leaned way too hard into the firepower and firerate in the MK2. The better firerate and impact from the extra cells made it bulky, digging into your shoulder, as well as gutting its accuracy in comparison to other snipers, to say nothing of the overly angular design could practically cut people. It’s still decently powerful and accurate, but it’s generally regarded as more trouble than it’s worth. Modding is a pain in the ass and requires a whole lot of bullshit, and modding it to be larger just sounds like asking to fuck up your arms. It’s generally regarded as a collector’s piece, but using it regularly either marks you as someone short on cash, being still fresh to shooting or someone who values form over function.

Aw, jeez, Blue is scratching their crotch again! He’s making eye contact! Like, you’re not sure how his eyes work or anything, but there’s no way he’d be doing this if he thought you could see!

“...As for our positions…”

Blue turns around stiffly and slowly as he looks at the skybox and its surroundings.
“I do not think there is a particular need to think about our setup too much. The Skybox is square in shape, and the only viewpoint is the viewport in front of the skybox. All possible positions are decent for accessing the stage and shooting those upon it, though the middle position is slightly more advantageous in this aspect, personally I-”
Blue pauses for a moment, but you’re mores distracted by the fact Red’s attempt to shift under his cloak without you noticing, it kinda just looks like them scratching their crotch. Jeez.
“...Due to the concert venues' terrible and loud music and bright light displays, I believe the sensible thing to do is to have two snipers at a time sweep the arena, while one stays in the back to relieve if either two grow fatigued.”
There are some lightshows that are going to happen, but honestly, everything you’ve heard or seen in briefings show them as honestly pretty tame.

As Blue continues talking, you notice that instead of pointing or really gesturing at anything, he just kind of… leans… at the places he’s talking about.
Red then speaks up.
“We are likely more experienced than you, and we have the advantage of cybernetics. Therefore, we should take the first shift, and you will likely not need to relieve either of us for a second shift. Do you have any objections?”

>”No, not really, but I think we should swap out even if either of you two don’t feel tired, just in case.”
>”Wasn’t there a security breach? We should have three snipers at all times to cover more area more efficiently.”
>”Oh cool, I've been looking into modding guns, could I see your gun real quick before anything else?”
>”Yeah, how the hell are you going to say that you’re more experienced than me, then go ahead and slap on mods to a shitty weapon you can’t even remember the name of?”
>Write in

NOTE: Updates will likely slow down this week and the next due to IRL issues, apologies in advance
No. 1082270 ID: eb7ce4

Just ask them straight out “you do realize what you’re doing with your hands right? Me and probably this entire room can see it”
No. 1082276 ID: 45bdfe

OH YEAH ALSO NOTE THIS TOO (sorry for the add on I only just thought of this now :()
“Also, if you’re guarding the vips on camera, and the camera catches you doing that, your pay’s gonna be docked” try not to say this as arrogantly as I put it, more like looking out for them
No. 1082362 ID: 32d7ee

Alright, it’s not like you don’t understand the need to scratch one’s balls. You actually kinda miss doing that, but these guys are just like, doing it while they’re looking at you straight in the face. Sure, probably only people close up can see it, but like, still, gross. You also don’t want to think about the shitstorms that’s going to happen if someone thinks they’re jacking it instead of itching it, that’s definitely gonna piss off someone. You doubt anyone reasonable would care enough to complain about people constantly ball itching, which still means that a lot of rich jackasses, the exact type of people to buy a skybox ticket, would start throwing a tantrum.

…Actually, lord, what if they are jacking it? Better put a stop to this quick.

“Alright, before we keep talking, you do realize what you’re doing with your hands right? Me and probably this entire room can see it.”

Neither of them respond, and they appear to have frozen completely. Guess they really thought that no one could see them, which you can’t tell is a good thing or a bad thing. Whatever, it’s fine, just make it clear that you’re just trying to help them instead of embarrass them or some shit, and you guys can get back to deciding how to pop some heads.

“Look, I-”

You are interrupted by Red suddenly taking a swing at your face, which you narrowly dodge as you stumble back in surprise, but Red throws another punch that slams into your chest, sending you skidding across the floor. Nothing’s broken, but good lord, that hurt.

“What the hell-”

You are interrupted again, but this time, by Calvin screaming at the top of his lungs into his backup phone while he scrambles for his SMG.


You Scramble to your feet, and… is Calvin blind or something? How on earth could he mistake two chromed out wackjobs like these for hobos? Red and Blue have both parted their cloaks aside to grab their guns, though Red is holding his like a club for some reason. Both “mercenaries” are nearly wholly decked out in purple cybernetics, rough and jagged, contrasting greatly with their smooth reflective faces. Their torsos, lower bodies, arms, hands, legs… However, you still can’t see their necks and their hoods still remain up, covering their heads.

While not the most quality work you’ve seen, you can tell the combined cost is waaaay too damn much for someone in your situation. Red’s cybernetics feature many tubes running in and out of various parts of his body, while Blue’s features an incredible array of vents. Both feature the image of a hand grasping a lightning bolt in the center of their chests, and they both have weird black dots on their left forearms.

Calvin fires off a burst of bullets from his SMG, a streak of green emerging from his gun, though his accuracy is so poor that neither of the cyborgs react as they whizz through the air.

The rest of the room is scrabbling for their weapons or doesn’t seem to understand what the hell is happening, though you can see the bouncers begin to click their earpiece and begin to bark orders.

Blue’s mask hisses, and you hear a slimy sounding electronically pitched-up voice emerge from him.
“Oh, Bravo, what gave us away? Was it my IDIOT of a partner confusing our "favorite color" for our masks, the sheer incompetence of him asserting his vast experience while also stating that he somehow also is totally uneducated about our guns-”
Red cuts in with a gravelly voice with an electric distortion that crackles as he speaks.
“Don’t blame me. You didn’t let me kill the shithead with the beard. You came up with the shitty codespeak.”
“Oh, be silent, you nimrod! The plan said to hide them properly after knocking them out, but you wanted to pretend to be smart, and tape a damn bottle of booze to his singers!”

>“It was the crotch scratching. Or jacking off, I couldn’t exactly figure out which one you guys were doing.”
>“Holy shit, you guys suck at your job.”
>Take advantage of their squabbling, dash back and fire a shot.
>Take advantage of their squabbling, run in and try to rip a hole in their necks with your teeth and claws.
>write in
No. 1082374 ID: 98271b

To be fair, we weren’t really suspecting of them too much, and in this line of work, being pretty quirky is a common thing amongst all of the mercs, like… literally everyone. Their plan probably would have worked if they didn’t immediately decide violence was their only option (hopefully this will cause them to in fight with each other, more than them fighting with us
No. 1082432 ID: 32d7ee

“Dude, like, being fuckin weirdos is a goddamn constant here, I was actually going to tell you two to stop scratching your crotches… or jacking off, I couldn’t really tell. Your plan probably would have worked if Red didn’t start swinging before I finished my sentence.”

Red begins to yell at you
“I was not scratching my crotch! You scaly piece of shit! I was using my communicator!”
As he says this, you realize the collection of black dots in their forearms appears to be some sort of custom keyboard, though you’re not sure how the hell either of them would be getting messages.

Blue then whirls turns to start screaming at his partner.
“You unbelievable fool! Not only do you manage to destroy our cover because you couldn’t wait a few moments to let the lizard finish his sentence, but you also go ahead and tell them how our communication systems function!?”

You take advantage of their argument to start dashing to a better position, namely the fuck away from them.
"Like you weren't reaching for your revolver. Y-"

Their argument is interrupted by a hail of gunfire coming from the rest of the mercenaries. Many shots miss due to hasty aim, but a few stray rounds slam into Red, but Blue manages to dive out of the way with lightning speed as you hear his vents begin to hiss. Red winces, but seems mostly unaffected. You turn around and charge up, preparing to fire a shot a blue but you’re unable to properly get a bead on him, as his vents hiss again as his legs flex in a burst of speed as he dashes to use his partner as partial cover, throwing off your aim.

“Shut the fuck up, stop making things worse, and help me kill them all you clod!”
“Fuck you. I’m telling Boss it was your fault.”

Red’s gun begins to hiss, and it begins to fall apart, until it reveals a giant neon-red rod, crackling with electricity. Blue whips out his gun, which also hisses and falls apart, revealing a rifle that is still very similar to the Aceway, but obviously far more advanced.

You are a decent distance away from the cyborgs.
Arial, the Cannibal, and both Bouncers are dashing towards them, while the man in the grungy armor is leveling his rifle for another round. Danny is nowhere to be seen, and Calvin is fiddling with the strange attachment on his SMG while continuing to yell into the speaker while he scrabbles to get over the bar table for some cover.

>Stand your ground, charge up a shot and aim for Red/Blue’s [INSERT BODYPART OF CHOICE HERE]
>Dive behind the bar to get some cover, then fire at the easiest target.
>Book it out of the room and into the hall in order to get max distance while still being able to shoot the cyborgs
>write in
No. 1082472 ID: 5ebd37

>Dive behind the bar
While the others are distracting, take your time and line up a headshot. You can snipe from 10 feet away, right?
No. 1082487 ID: 32d7ee

As you turn tail and run, the cannibal reaches a decent distance and fires a shot at Blue. While Blue jolts away from the barrel of the gun, the spread clips him in the side of the stomach, causing him to stumble as he lets a barrage of egg-shaped energy bolts towards Calvin, who just manages to scramble over the bar as his stool disintegrates.

The two bouncers charge at Red, who does likewise. One tries to hammer Red’s face in, but he swiftly slams his crackling weapon into his gut, sending a smell of burning flesh out as the bouncer jolts back. The other’s fist is met with Red’s own fist, and you hear his massive fingers crack as the metal fist plows through them.

Arial flicks her wrists, and thin long metal cables come out. She slashes at Blue, failing to hit him as he dodges once again, but throwing off his aim he was leveling at the bouncers. The grungy armored mercenary adds fire support, grazing Blue a few times, but dealing no real damage.

You dive behind the bar, where you see Danny in the fetal position, and Calvin is picking himself up after faceplanting over the bar.

You quickly pop back up and charge up a shot, letting it fly at Red, skimming his forearm, which begins to spark slightly. Red brutally slams his electro-club into the neck of the bouncer with the broken fist as he yells out to his partner. The bouncer stumbles onto the ground, but is still alive.

“Shit! Nez, kill the lizard!”

Blue dances around Arial’s slashes and the Armored one’s shots as he begins to level his rifle at you. Red bodyslams the other bouncer out of the way, approaching the one downed. Calvin peers at you from under the counter, he’ll probably try to shoot whoever you do.

>Hastily Fire at Blue before he can shoot you.
>Distract Red with a hasty shot before he finishes off the bouncer
>Take a risk: Fire a properly aimed shot at Blue/Red
>Attempt to confuse them by yelling that you’re aiming at one cyborg and firing at the other. (name which)
>Pop back down before you get blasted in the head!
>write in
No. 1082496 ID: 5ebd37

>Take a risk
Hunker down and line up the shot at blue. Yell at Calvin to cover you, his scatter shots should at least make it hard for blue to aim at you.
No. 1082643 ID: 32d7ee

You signal Calvin to cover you and fire at Blue as you take aim. Calvin pops up, and lets loose a another barrage of green bullets, which forces Blue to dive across the room to avoid the hail of gunfire aimed at him from you, Calvin, the Cannibal, the Armored mercenary, and Arial’s whips. However, he manages to let loose a burst of energy into the legs of the cannibal as he does, who cries out as he falls forwards while his shot goes wild, his leg padding smoldering.

You swiftly adjust your aim for this wild dive and let loose your shot, which doesn’t quite connect to his head, but it rips through the air and makes a hole right in Blue’s chest-plate.
He collapses onto the ground, his cybernetics sparking up a storm. He’s still somewhat mobile, but it’s not enough to dodge Arial’s right whip as they wrap around his left forearm, making a grinding Arial tightens the whip and yanks, causing his gun to fly out of his arm.

“Hey, nice shot! You guys can probably go ahead and shoot the other guy, I can take care of this dude.”

Suddenly, you hear a sickening crunch as you turn your attention to Red, who has slammed his club into the skull of the Bouncer he just downed. You can’t tell if they’re dead or not, but you’re pretty sure even roided up GMO muscle-men aren’t really built to have a large indent in their head.

“Nez, you’re useless. Stay still or I might step on you.”

With surprising speed, he throws his electric club at the Mercenary who’s been taking potshots at Blue, then slams his foot into the other downed bouncer’s chest, sending him skidding across the floor, and charges at Arial. Calvin lets loose another burst of green bullets into his chest, but they seem to just… melt into his armor, instead of bouncing off or making any dents? Calvin doesn’t seem to notice or care as he continues spraying his gun at Red.

An earsplitting crack resounds through the room as the club crashes into the grungily armored man and he falls over before you’re able to see the damage properly. Judging from the screaming it’s a… maybe on his survival? At least he wasn’t struck instantly dead.

Arial switches her attention to Red and whirls her left whip as she prepares to strike him when they enter her range. However, you notice that Blue is currently grasping for a revolver on a thigh holster, though with his twitching arms you don’t think he even has a decent chance at grabbing it, and you think the Cannibal is trying to line up a shot on Blue while he’s stomach first on the ground.

>Fire at Red’s head, to try and kill him instantly
>Fire at Blue head, to try and kill him instantly
>Fire at Blue’s chest, to try and disable him so you can interrogate him later
>Fire at Red’s legs, to try and disable his legs, stopping his charge (easier than the headshot)
>Write in
No. 1082646 ID: 5ebd37

Hit Red's leg, then switch to pistol and charge whichever one seems most mobile.
No. 1082775 ID: eb7ce4

wait they can talk to each other fine, yet they were using crotch communicators to secretly talk? Were they talking with a third party, or is that a another mode of communication?
No. 1083246 ID: 32d7ee

You take aim at Red’s legs, and fire a shot at his kneecaps. The beam of energy penetrates through the thigh of one leg, and drives into the lower leg of the other. Red lets out a cry of frustration as his cybernetics jerk erratically, making him stumble and fall as Calvin peppers him with his odd melting shots.

This allows Arial to dart slightly forward,and slash Red across his neck as he falls. He attempts to shove himself off the ground while clutching his neck, an oozing mixture of oil and blood bubbling forth, and thrusts his hands to the side to avoid another whip slash from Arial. Suddenly, a wet crunching sound emerges from Red’s chest, and he lets out a scream that is suddenly cut short as he slumps to the ground, which elicits a disturbing sounding chuckle from Calvin.

You take a quick glance at Blue, who is still jerking around, unable to to pick up his revolver. You then sling your Killshot to the side and whip out your pistol, firing at Blue’s arm, a few of your shots hitting their mark and making his arm smoke and jerk around more. You’re about to charge the cyborg, but then see Blue’s arm fly clean off as the Cannibal fires his shotgun, ripping Blue’s arm off completely. Despite this, he’s still resisting, until Arial wraps her free whip around Blue’s neck.

“Look, you got one arm, you’re totally outnumbered, I’ve got a literal chokehold on you, so how about you stop squirming?”

Blue mutters some obscenities, but stops thrashing as he adjusts his position to be propping himself up on his left forearm, though he appears to be unsteady as he does so. The fight's over, you guess.
Danny scurries out from out of behind the bar, armed with a comically large medkit, at least for a man his size, and starts rushing over to the Bouncer with his head smashed in.
The other Bouncer is getting up, and... promptly collapses.
Calvin is… taking the opportunity to take a small bottle of liquor from the bar and stuffing it into a pouch on his body armor while he turns his phone back on, presumably to call back to the platoon commander.

You quickly assess your options and review your info. There are 4 heavily injured people, 2 of which are possibly dead, the rest are in rough fucking shape. You're pretty sure that a Bartender in a place like this would have decent medical skills. You yourself know some very basic first aid from basic training. You have no idea if these two nutjobs were the only people sent here, but you do know they do have a Boss from what Red said. The higher-ups, at least in M4$, probably already know something happened, since Calvin called them at the start of the shootout. While you're not too savvy on cybernetics, these guys are way too fucking tricked out to be doing newbie mercenary work, and the Cannibal might know about that.

>Go and try to help Danny heal the Bouncer with the caved in head, before helping your coworkers
>Take some med supplies from Danny and let him deal with the bouncers, you help take care of the two injured mercenaries
>Join Calvin at the bar and help report what the hell happened
>Move to interrogate Blue with Arial
>Write in

Sorry for the gap in updates, might have another gap until thrusday
No. 1083453 ID: 5ebd37

Since you were the one to call in the situation earlier, it would make sense for you to follow up with the commander.
No. 1083491 ID: eef602

find a way to get to that communicator. Was the severed arm of Blue the one that had it? Assess if it's still functional and mess around with it. Hopefully it has useful info for us.
No. 1085066 ID: 32d7ee

You turn on your phone, click on the communication app, and… nothing. Frustrated, you give it a good whack, but nothing happens. Shit. Did they jam the comms or something? However, before you can check further, you hear Calvin talking to the commander again. You note that for a backup, his phone appears heavily modified as you join him.

“Hey there boss, so we got the guys who caught me of- ambushed me in a coordinated attack, I uh… think they might be terrorists or something… I got Anon to scope em out cause they were talking out their ass on shit everyone knows, and they went berserk. I think th-”


You and Calvin offer a hasty summary of the events that have happened, the lightning bolt+hand symbols on their chests, the weird level of tech, as well as their callsigns, and the fact that they have a boss.
You note that one of the bouncers is unconscious but stable, and Danny is currently trying his best to stabilize the armored mercenary as the Cannibal is applying medical supplies to himself along with the other bouncer.


You approach Arial and Blue, who appear to already be engaged in a… unproductive interrogation. Blue shifts his position on his arm every couple of moments.

“Look, would you just hurry up and tell me who the hell you’re working for, please?”
“...fuck you…”
“Yes, yes, I know, we’re going to kill you anyways, but if you keep wasting my time, I’m going to get upset and have to blow it off by making it hurt a lot more than it needs to when I kill you. Please?”
“I said fuck you, bitch. Or in other terms, I won’t give up information no matter how much you beg me, you stupid brainless visionless nimrod!”

Calvin nudges you slightly while your platoon leader appears ready to blow a gasket upon the sight of this exchange.

“....Heyyyy, buddy, pal, you mind me stealing some thundah from you and your gal pal and letting me give these guys the screws? I know it’s her capture or whatnot, but I don’t think our lady friend here is uh, suited to this line of work. Well, the screw-giving kind of work… uh, this line of screw-giving, not the other- look, I’m gettin’ off topic here, pretty sure I can crack this nut, literally, I might not lookit, but I’m a computers guy, I swear.”

Wat do
>Let Arial keep handling the interrogation
>Get Calvin to try and interrogate the guy
>take initiative and try to interrogate the guy
>let your platoon leader try and do it?
>try to take a look at the communicator first instead
>Write in

Midterms kicked my ass I’m sorry.
No. 1085101 ID: 5ebd37

Let Calvin muck it up, not like your likely to get anything out of this guy. You and Arial should go on the balcony and scan for trouble in the rest of the venue.
No. 1085428 ID: 32d7ee

You decide to let Calvin handle the interrogation, and you quickly assist in tying up Blue before getting Arial’s attention.

“Oh hey Anon! What’s up?”

“Calvin wants to handle the interrogation, says he can hack him or something, we should scan the crowd for more threats.”

Arial gives a thumbs up and Calvin giggles like a creep as he approaches Blue. The Platoon Commander on the screen watches in earnest, and you hear him yelling at someone to turn on screen recording and to turn up the volume.

“Not too sure how useful I’ll be without a gun though, I’ll tell you if I see anyone acting off.”

As you step onto the balcony, outside the skybox but positioned below the main windows, you take a quick scan of the crowd. It’s still a bit before the concert starts, but it’s around the time everyone in the normal crowd starts trickling in and jostling for a good view. You can see a few other mercenaries in the crowd along with some more oversized bouncers and normal security guards.

You take a quick scan of the crowd using both your regular vision, and a quick sweep with your scope.

There’s nothing overtly suspicious going on. However, you do spot a small group of people in brownish cloaks making their way down the stairs and keeping to themselves, around 5-6-ish people, one of which is incredibly short, and oddly appears to be dragged along by one of the taller members of the group. Arial taps you on the shoulder, and leans in to point at a group of bald concertgoers with what looks like purple marking on their heads. You can’t make out an exact image of what’s on there, it could be the same symbol as Red and Blue, but they also appear to be getting along great with a large group of people decked out in Anas cosplay. Finally, you notice that there’s an argument going on between what looks like a lion mutant and a security guard near the front rows, right in front of the stage, though it appears that the lion is just confused rather than angry.

You attempt to radio in and report back, but your connection crackles, giving you nothing. Arial helpfully tries hers, and gives a goofy expression while sticking out her tounge as a truly terrible 1 bar rating pops up. It’ll work, but the quality is going to be terrible Shit, it looks like they either did jame your comms, or the internet is shitting itself from having the fans, a merc company, security, backstage, and presumably a terrorist group all using it at once.

Suddenly, you hear an explosion of screaming come from inside the Skybox, coming from Blue’s voice, before it stops just as suddenly.

Arial winces and rubs her ears

"Boy, for a guy who probably doesn't have any lungs, he sure can scream."

>Scope in and observe a group closely (write in which one) while using Arial’s phone to try and communicate with the teams in the crowd.
>Ask Arial to go back inside and tell the Platoon leader the comms are crapping out, the suspicious members, and check on the interrogation while you scope in on [GROUP OF YOUR CHOICE].
>Head back in yourself and report directly on the situation
>write in
No. 1085441 ID: 5ebd37

Who wears cloaks to a concert? Scope the brown cloaks, they might be kidnapping someone.
Does Arial have any enhancements for her eyes?
No. 1085450 ID: 32d7ee

You quickly ask Arial if her eyes are enhanced in any way. She furrows her brows in thought and tugs on her ponytail as she responds

“...Uh, not really? Sorry! They’re mostly just built not to break if something hits me in the eye and to wipe themselves if blood or something like that gets in them.”

“You’re like, a proper sniper and everything though, so I think you’d probably be a little better than the basic type of enhancements anyway.”

You thank Arial for helping, and focus on the cloaked group. Cloaks aren’t exactly a superrare accessory for shitty weather, but it’d take at least 20 minutes for them to get from outside the building, so a normal person would have taken them off by now, and when everyone you can really is either decked out in Anas merch or more casual wear, they really stick the hell out. You decide to scope in, thinking they might be kidnappers.

While unfortunately, you can’t get a good look at their faces, you notice more unusual things about the person they’re dragging along.
For one, they’re probably a kid, or really, genuinely, super short. If it’s the second one, it’s not a super big deal, but if it’s the first, the person helping them along is either a shitty parent, or doesn’t give a shit about the kid. In fact, instead of being guided smoothly along, it’s more like the person leading them jerks them forward a few meters before they come to a stop again.

The group as a whole is really putting in an effort to avoid everyone, taking the long way around and waiting for others to pass by.

However, you doubt if they’re kidnappers, as they aren’t moving towards their nearest exit, but they’re either heading to one all across the arena, or heading closer to the stage. The short one isn’t showing any obvious signs of resistance either besides the whole “being jerked around” thing. Actually, besides from being jerked around, you haven’t seen them really move at all, weird.

Arial leans close to you and gestures to her phone

“You want me to text the guys on the bottom? I don’t think I can call with this crappy reception, but texting short messages should work fine.”

(You might have some slight communication problems if you choose to text.)

Wat do?
>text in the goonsquad on the cloaked group using Arial’s phone while you keep a bead on them
>Ask Arial to get Calvin to call the goonsquad while you keep a bead on them
>Monitor a different group (Bald dudes, Arguing Lion)
>check again for new suspicious groups
>write in
No. 1085499 ID: 5ebd37

This might just be paranoia, but could the short one not be moving because it isn't alive at all? Like its a disguised bomb or something? No need to panic, but text the ground team a heads up to keep an eye on the group.

Take a quick scope of the purple tats to double check they don't match our opponent's.
No. 1085502 ID: 5a0dda

While it’s not enough to start shooting or tackling, these guys are indeed, weird as shit. You worry if the short guy is secretly a bomb, either literally or suicidally. You ask if you can text the concert group, and Arial hands you her phone. It takes a while, but your messages get through. The responses are typed normally, so it’s not the platoon commander seeing this, though he might not be stationed in the concert or he might be still helping with the interrogation. You inform them about the possibility they’re hiding a bomb, as well as the fact they’re wearing cloaks indoors. You see a bouncer start tailing the group, and another mercenary starts to try to cut them off in order to get a good look at their faces.

You then zoom in on the bald men. While your visibility isn’t great, you can tell the tattoos aren’t anything resembling the lightning bolt+hand, being something more like weirdly shaped snakes holding various weapons in their mouth. Gang tattoos? They don’t seem to be obviously modified, and they don’t appear to be mutants, at least not to the visible degree you and Anas are.

They’re sharing some drinks (probably beer) with the group of women, which you now realize are not actually cosplayers upon further inspection, but various other mammalian mutants who all have tacky plastic antlers. Beyond a yellow-furred mutant making out with one of the bald guys and getting a bit handsy, there’s nothing that’s concerning or even violates the extremely “stick in your ass” concert policies for the normal seating/standing.

(seriously like no one follows even half of them or even bother to enforce them not even the people who make them)

You’re trying to get a better view of their tattoos when Arial suddenly shakes you. You accidentally mash the trigger, though thankfully you kept the safety on. You give her a look.

“Ohmigod, Sorry! But, like, the cloaked guys are like, definitely up to something cause they’re running now! I texted the guys below if you could shoot them already, but the signal is being goddamn garbage right now.”

You switch your focus, and you see that the cloaked group have abandoned all hints of subtlety is now just blatantly trying to avoid security at all costs, with them suddenly have split and begun running a few moments ago, with the one dragging the shorter member making a beeline towards the group of bald gang members and mutant antler-wearers. Two others are running seemingly solely to split up the security squad, and the other three are actually moving towards them. You can see security start yelling at them to simultaneously get the hell over to them and also to stop approaching them.

Oddly, now that the short member is being dragged at a higher speed, they don’t seem to be being jerked around anymore. In fact… they might actually be speeding up?

Wat do?
>Wait for confirmation to shoot
>Fire a warning shot at (Dragger, Dashers, Guys running towards security)
>Shoot to kill at (Dragger, Dasher, Guys running towards security)
Write in
ALSO Choose if you:
>Get Arial to stay and help you spot since you can’t keep an eye on all the cloaked figures while scoped
>Get Arial to leave and report to the platoon commander
Write in.
No. 1085656 ID: 5ebd37

Take down the shorty, try to hit the legs in case it is a bomb.

Arial should spot for you while you are scoped in.
No. 1085688 ID: 32d7ee

Fuck it. They’d already be in deep shit normally for not stopping for security, enough to kick them out maybe. When there’s been two nutjobs who were modded out enough to probably take out an entire mercenary team if they caught you off guard, that’s enough cause for shooting first and bullshitting an autopsy report later. Someone stupid enough to attack/be incredibly suspicious at a concert, let alone one populated by tons of mutants, is probably someone that should be removed from the gene pool.

“Arial, spot for me while I shoot. I’m counting on you.”

“Uhhhh, I, like, don’t really know how to do that, but I’ll do my best!”

You zoom in on the weird shorty, and aim for their legs. If it’s a bomb, you don’t want to risk setting it off, if it’s a person you’ll cripple them, and if they’re innocent you’re pretty sure these concerts have waivers for being shot/beaten by security. You breath deeply, and a beam of light rips through the air as your killshot finishes charging, hitting the lower portion of the cloak. You see a few sparks fly from the cloak, and you hold your breath as you wait to see if it blows up. Thankfully, it doesn’t.

However, the short cloak doesn’t slow down at all, and in fact, begins moving PAST the person originally dragging it after the man lets out a quick shout. It’s definitely… running(?) straight to the group of baldies+mutants, who have begun to take notice of what’s happening. One of them is fiddling around in his pants, presumably for some gun they snuck in. The handler dives to the ground, and rifles around his cloak.

Suddenly Arial begins yelling and shakes you, grabbing your head from the scope and jabbing her finger towards the three.
“They all started shooting!”

The three cloaked figures running towards the security guards clap their hands together and point their arms and fingertips at the guard, and flashes of gunfire emerge from their fingertips as they hold their arms in the V position. However, most of them seem to either miss their targets or are absorbed by the armor of the now fully hostile security teams, who begin firing upon all of the cloaked figures as the concert attendees begin to panic and scream, diving to the ground to avoid being shot.

Out of the corner of your eye, one of the dashers’s chests explodes in a burst of gore from a shotgun slug ripping through her. One of the finger gunners rapidly gets their left arm, then right leg, then finally head ripped off from the overwhelming hail of gunfire. Miraculously, nothing seems to be hitting any of the bystanders.

“Anon! The short guy is still running towards the baldies!”

Wat do
>Help the security team out, fire on the fingergunners
>Don’t let a single one escape! Take care of the other Dasher!
>If it’s a controlled bomb, the handler’s definitely reaching for the detonator, shoot him.
>Write in

NOTE: Kind of an awkward place to put it, but feel free to ask questions about the setting/the quest in general if you want to.
No. 1085735 ID: 5ebd37

The thing definitely seems controlled, headshot the handler.

What's the city we're in like?
No. 1085876 ID: 32d7ee

Right, that thing’s definitely being controlled in some way by the handler, fuck that shit. You raise your gun and fire at the bastard right as he pulls out a remote. Thankfully, these mooks don’t seem to be nearly as enhanced as Red or Blue, either for stealth purposes or simply because they’re lower on the totem pole. Your shot finds it’s mark, and the man’s fingers keep moving toward the remote until they’re kindly informed the brain has a 1 inch wide hole in it. They flop down, dead.

“Anon, the weird guy’s still running!”

…But the thing doesn’t stop moving, though it seems to jerk erratically, and suddenly slows down. The Bald man that was rifling around in his pants has whipped out his revolver, while his buddies are either trying to move away from the thing or scrabbling for their own smuggled weapons.

You swear as you line up for a another shot at it’s legs, wheels, or whatever the hell it has under there, but the bald man manages to fire off a shot that… hits it dead center mass. Fuck. You’d be impressed if it wasn’t for the fact you’re almost certain it’s about to explode. Except it doesn’t, at least not into a ball of fire.

Instead, you see a metal spear rip itself out of the fabric, tearing off the cloak with it, the harpoon tearing into the leg of the man who shot at it, who screams, though you can’t hear it from here, and they fall to the ground as the bot begins retracting .

It is some odd looking smoothly build robot. A rectangular body with rounded edges, supported by a mass of writhing mechanical tentacles. You see four weapons jutting from it’s chassis, a speargun on it’s left front, Gatling gun erratically sparking, stuck in halfway between being stowed or deployed on it’s left side, and some sort of sparking rod pointing foward on the top of it’s “head.” It has no face, instead having a single purple “eye” on it’s “face.” It’s a rectangular box with weapons with tentacles with legs is what I’m getting at here.

You note that the bot seems off-balance and it’s weirdly asymmetrical design, guessing that since you domed it’s handler before it could get to their remote, it wasn’t able to deploy all of it’s weapons properly. In fact, you’re pretty sure you see two more slots on it left, and one very large slot on it’s head.

You fire a shot at the bot, and it stumbles as you nail it in it’s “face” but you can tell your shot didn’t get through it’s armor.

You can tell the group of Bald Fans+Mutant Fans are probably going to start firing at/trying to beat the shit out of the bot instead of doing the mildly sane act of retreating, either because they’re either drunk, stupid, or think not trashing it makes it possible the concert would be canceled and you’re pretty sure the Cannibal you met earlier is actually saner than the average idol fan when it comes to their levels of devotion.

“Anon, not to make you focus on too many things at once, but, uh, I can’t see the other dasher anymore, and the other guy’s taken a hostage!

You glance over to see that one of the other fighting cyborgs appears to have bled out after getting shot a few times, but what probbably fucked them over the most was the gaping wound in their stomach. However, the other is currently having a standoff with the rest of the security detail, with them pointing their gun fingers at a canine looking mutant.

One of the security members is wielding a huge-ass glaive and is doing some samurai pose right in front of the cyborg, waiting for an opening.

Great, you’ll need to be careful unless you want to blow a hole in the hostage as well.

>Focus on taking out the bot
>Take a more difficult shot to cut the line between the bot and the bald man
>help out with the hostage situation by blowing a hole through the cyborgs head
>help out with the hostage situation by taking a shortcut and shooting through the hostage in an area that won’t kill them, the pain’ll flinch the bot and samurai guy can take care of the rest
>help out with the hostage situation by giving zero fucks and just blowing straight through the hostage, it’ll be quicker, giving you more time to deal with the bot.
>You can still see the remote. Shooting it could shut the bot down entirely… or activate all it’s weapons.. or even blow up…
>Scan for the dasher, he might be calling in reinforcements
>Write in

Good Ol’ Neo-Mobius. A hive of absolute bullshit and scumfuckery. Three times the size of Old New New York. Standout features include the oversized harbor infested with lower mutants and two-bit criminals, practically drowning in drugs at times, a metric assload of random, premeditated, and paid violence, and the highest mutant-per-captia ratio for a long while the last time you checked. All of these are pretty good things for your line of work, though not your health.

Current groups of interest are the Glaggles, a nutjob cult making an honest and transparent attempt trying to get people to mass-overdose at once to “meld.” Killpack, another mercenary company that recently got in hot water over it’s CEO either secretly enslaving a harem of wolfgirl mutants (without the proper paperwork!)... or being enslaved by them, (only investors get to do that!) you can’t quite remember. Arcten Industries, a weapons development company, proud inventors of the “Bum Bucket Test Subject collections machine” and finally M4$,your company! An up an coming company who poached a lot of talent from other companies going out of business earlier in the year, and who are experimenting with a “new-age-self-managed-socialization-encouraged-self-employment-model” which basically means you’re left to your own devices, though the safety net is basically non-existent.
No. 1085918 ID: 5ebd37

Try to disable one of the bot's weapons before the melee starts and you can't get a clear shot.
No. 1086163 ID: 32d7ee

The hostage situation is… annoying, but at minimum you doubt that the cyborg can escape at this point. What’s more concerning is the robot actively hunting down the group.You don’t want to waste the chance to take a shot before the fans start going apeshit and blocking all your shots.

However, it seems pretty heavily armored, so you opt to shoot one of it’s THREE currently deployed weapons. Anyone who says there are four weapons is quite obviously a sleep-deprived idiot. The gatling gun is almost certainly nonfuctional already, it’s shock prod too slim of a target, which leaves only the speargun.

…You just hope it doesn’t make it worse for the guy being impaled. Your shot charges just fast enough to hit the speargun as the robot begins trying to reel the man in and the crowd of baldmen and mutants begins surging towards the bot.

The Gun crackles as sputters as your ray of white light rips through it, making it refire it’s speargun instead of continuing to drag it’s prey, making the cable scrape through the hole already present in the man that was being reeled in, sending him into convulsions from the pain. The bot jerks likewise, (though you doubt it has a PAINSYS installed) your shot apparently severing some of it's motor systems for it's tentacles as well.

You attempt to aim again, but you’re not able to charge it up fully before the victim’s fellow gangsters and Anas fans swarm the bot, plinking it with low-grade firearms and the mutants trying to rip it to shreds while a few begin attacking the cable to free their ally. They’re just mostly knocking it around and not doing any real damage, though they’re surprisingly good at avoiding any friendly fire. You wince as one of the mutants get a little too close, and they jolt wildly as the electric prod rams them in the stomach. The cable is made of stern stuff, their smuggled firearms doing nothing to cut it, and mutant strength not being enough to tear it either.

You can see a few standard issue security guards with larger guns they’re obviously not used to handling rushing towards the melee, screaming at the crowd, presumably yelling at them to get the fuck away so they have a good shot.

You keep trying to line up a decent shot that won’t take someone out as collateral, but it just isn’t happening as the bot flails, shocking and using it’s malfunction tentacles to clumsily grasp at the crowd, while the disorganized mob surges forth, slowly wearing it’s armor down.

“Anon! The hos- Oh, oof, uh, nevermind, I guess, that was messy. Just, uh, keep shooting at the bot! …Am I doing a good job spotting or whatever? Oh wait, I gotta look for the other runner, right? Gimmie a sec.”


>Continue looking for a opening to shoot the bot, it's the most dangerous thing in the stands right now, if both the hostage and cyborg is dead which is what it sounds like, it’s of no immediate consequence, and Arial is looking for the runner.
>look for the runner, the hostage situation is already taken care of and you’re likely not going to get a good shot anytime soon. Arial is doing a decent job of spotting so far, but more eyes can only help.
>see what the hell happened with the hostage situation, it’s important info, the melee is making it impossible to get a shot off anyways, and the runner is already being looked for.
>Get Arial to check WTF the rest of the team is doing, you haven’t heard anything from them besides Blue screaming. (Also write in what you’re doing.)
Write in
No. 1086172 ID: 5ebd37

Not really anything you can do at this point. Keep scanning the crowd until the combat ends in case another enemy pops up. Thank Arial for spotting so well.

Is this enough to cancel the concert, or is it just a typical night in Neo-Mobius?
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