The Ganoltir Project Forum

You have all come to an abandoned building on the edge of St. Andrew Parish. You've come here because of a message you recieved from a man named Alexander Roberts. He is someone you know, and he wants you to meet him so he can tell you something important.

He stands in front fo you, lanky and tall build, with his white collared shirt and tie, and glasses. As you each arrive, he greets you, and once you all do, he says "Thanks for coming, I know this was kinda out of the blue. I've gathered you all here for a simple reason. I have a dream. I am so tired of the injustice that plagues our world today. I dream that one day, Kingston will be free. Free of the thugs and goons that plague her streets. Free of the tyranny of the megacorporations. Free of the inequality that divides her people. I wish to see this dream become a reality. It won't be easy. It'll take time, money, and people who are willing and able to do what is needed to see it come true, but I'm certain you will all be able to. So, are you in?"

OOC Question To Answer

You know Alexander Roberts. Perhaps not super well, but you know him. How do you know this quiet, somewhat mild-mannered office worker?"

Griffith leads Rune to the building, keeping mostly calm as he tries to look casual on the way down there. "This guy's helped me out a few times. I actually went to him once to get more info on a lead- He was fairly helpful." He says, opening the door for Rune and leading his friend inside.

Being of the first to arrive, the young man finds himself a part of the wall to lean against but does so close to where Alexander was standing. He gives a polite nod and even gives him a soft smile before resting back against the wall. As the others enter, his eyes land on Cece and he rolls his eyes, attempting to stifle a groan.

He looks back over at Alexander as he begins to talk, feeling a spark in his soul ignite, and with a smirk plastered across his face, he gives another firm nod. "Of course, I'm in burc'ya. I trust you would not lead me astray." He glances over at Rune, hoping that he would feel the same.

Translation

Burc'ya (BOOR-sha) - Friend (can be used ironically).

CeCe stands tall, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the man who calls himself Alexander Roberts. She studies his face, his tie, his manner of speech. Him might be a pen-pusher, but mi couldna done that job miself, she considers, remembering how the man had leaked sensitive data several months back. She'd never seen him in person, but here he finally was, and with a new motherlode: yet another megacorp with a bone to pick. Demolition is set to start, plans are already in place. A new pharma empire will stand above the crushed remains of the Parish, one more pock-mark on the withering vision of the Kingston her great grandparents once knew.

"Course. Been chasing that dream since mi was a young buck on King Street. You know that." She scans the others, finding a diverse and yet ragtag group of runners. And then there is Griffith. Him brave, showing up. This run might be scratched from the start with that clown round here. She eyes the ex-Yakuza man coolly, her attention returning to Roberts but her thoughts staying with the former.

Rune follows his friend in, his gaze sweeping across the room and finally landing on the Whitecollar. His amber eyes ever-so-slightly narrow as he sizes the office worker(?) up. Who do you work for? What's your angle?

He steps over towards Griffith, keeping a respectful distance between himself and everyone else, taking note of their builds and countenances. He listens to the man speak, glancing at the others to gage their reactions, before responding himself.

"Shah, if'n ya got the ken t'follow through." Rune pauses for a breath, and adjusts his bracelet. "However, what d'ya consider 'necessary', friend?"

OOC

Terms used
Shah - Corruption of 'sure', used as an affirmative
Ken - Archaic, meaning knowledge, intelligence, or information

Peeko cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he listens to Roberts' lofty dreams. Big talk for a guy like this. Couldn't've hacked that telecoms feed without his info though... Man's got huevos of steel. He smiles for a moment, thinking back to the prior stunt he'd been involved in. He and a small group had sought to interrupt a news feed spreading corporate propaganda, and Roberts provided them with some remote access codes. Though Peeko had never interacted with him in person, he knew the man was capable. Big dreams, but ones I can get behind.

Peeko smirks impishly and gives a shrug. "Lotta fuckin' pendejos in this town. Wouldn't mind takin' 'em down a peg. So I'm in." He glances around at the others, surprised at the diverse group this former corporate cog has managed to muster up. He sizes each of them up, glancing at Roberts for a moment as his thoughts wander. No judgment, chico. They've gotta have skills. Ojalá...

Huntress stands towards the back of the group, leaning against a wall. She lights up a cigarette and takes a few drags as the unassuming office worker speaks. She realises she never did find out why she had been hired to kill him, and wonders what he could have done to deserve it. Ultimately though he somehow had the money not only to pay her off but also to have the people who wanted him dead offed themselves. Quite the curious little man, she thinks as he finishes his proposal. She takes one last drag of her cigarette before flicking the smouldering butt away, adding to the small piles of trash that litter the abandoned building left by whatever junkies have called its halls home most recently.

"If it involves putting corpo fucks in the ground you can count me in," she says. Her English is perfect and her accent impossible to place to an untrained ear, although those that would recognise it would here the subtlest hints of an indeterminate European accent betraying her origins.

Skylar folds her arms and leans against a wall, like many of the others, a bit unsure of what to expect from the meeting. She chews a piece of gum while listening to the man speak, blowing the occasional bubble which interrupt him when they pop. She only knows their host, Alexander - or Blue Flame, as she knows him - from the street racing circuit she frequents at night. From the way he rides, she never expected him to be so mild-mannered and clean-cut in the day time, let alone dressed in a tie. Must not judge a dog by its hair, she thinks, as he speaks his piece, making little sense to her in the process. 

"Gå som katten kring het gröt," she responds, as he mention the grand idea he has, but nothing of the specifics he has gathered them here for. Noticing the others and their confused looks, she adds, "eh... Do not beat bushes, ja? Tell us what we doing. I decide after," she continues, eager to learn exactly what his 'great job offer,' actually is. He expects us to get riled up by platitudes before even explaining this job? And the others already seem eager. Maybe they know more than me. She blows a bubble and pops it as she waits, looking towards the man with only a minor amount of interest.

Translation

"Gå som katten kring het gröt" = "don't walk like a cat around hot porridge," the Swedish equivalent of "don't beat around the bush," i.e. "get to the point."

 

The older man in the room speaks from a seat in the corner. Mr. Roberts, you are a dear friend, and I'd love to help out. Working for an idealist is better than living in a place like this myself after all. A readjustment of power for both bottom feeders and corporate scum is long overdue in Kingston. Blowing smoke from a faux-cigar into the air, Corbett rises. "Well, let's see what we'll need to pull this off." For those who don't know Corbett, it's clear that he is a man of some status and wealth. Corbett's tone slightly betrays his Argentinian heritage, but only to the trained ear.

Alexander nods, saying "I knew I could trust you all. I swear to you this is more than platitudes. I've been planning this for years. Already have the first assignment lined up. The Yakuza have gotten bolder as of late, and have started setting up a senraku parlor in the Cuban Mafia's turf. The task is simple: get in, rough up the bastards, and get them to move on. Simple in every sense of the term. Additionally, they want you to make it loud. Show their moral opposition, as well as their business opposition."

When Alexander mentions senraku parlors, you all recognize what he means in varying levels of detail. Sex dens, where the workers have been brain-wiped and turned into fleshy automata, programmed to do whatever the client wants using a variant of BTL chip technology. A horrible practice, done by only the lowest of the low. While most gangs have very publicly (for the underworld, anyways) denounced it as too far, even for them, many large criminal organizations still profit from them in private. This includes both the Cuban Mafia and the Yakuza.

"I know their moral platitudes are full of shit, anyone with a brain can see it. However, I thought this was a mission we could all agree on. A journey always begins with a single step." Alexander chuckles before continuing. "They've told me that anything found on site is ours for the taking, although they've said that if there isn't much they'll give us a few thousand nuyen for our troubles."

Explanation

BTL Chip Technology: Stands for Better Than Life, an implant that enables users to slot in chips to simulate expriences directly through their neurons. Comes in a wide variety, and often causes addiciton as users chase their next adrenaline high.

CeCe frowns. And here mi was, hoping that him be coming by on a job with real bite. Not a shakedown for earning scrap. Her mind, however, stays frozen on the brain-wiped sex slaves. While the Yakuza and the Cuban Mafia played their own pretend game of PR and morals and honor, the people of Kingston were the victims. It's worth her time, and she knows it.

"So you want we play dem game and come out on bottom, but a few thousand up. Okay. Say we do. What next? How we gonya move onto the big dogs?"

Peeko's usual smirk fades as their contact mentions senraku parlors, a grim frown instead on his face. Lost too many I know to shit like that... Fuck all those cabrónes. His brows furrow in slight anger as he thinks back to many he'd met in his camshow days, mysteriously going offline and never to be seen again... until they're spotted at one such parlor.

He clenches his fist, an almost-seething smirk reforming across his face as his emotions take hold. "Make it loud. Easy. Those hijos de putas won't know what hit 'em." Con dinero baila el perro.

Huntress shrugs at the mention of the Yakuza and the Cuban Mafia. "I wouldn't normally waste my time with that sort of game, but if that's what we need to take the fight to the corpos then I'm not going to back out now," she says. Pulling out a round from her vest and twirling it between her fingers absentmindedly as she talks.

Skylar's disinterested expression grows noticeably more angry at the mention of the senraku parlors. She only learned of their existence after moving to Kingston, but everything she heard made them sound like the epitome of corporate corruption, with sex crimes heaped on top. 

"Ok, I will help," the young woman says, blowing one final bubble before removing the gum from her mouth and sticking it against the wall next to her. "Tell us where, then we go."

Some of Griffith's earlier enthusiasm drained from the knowledge of what the job actually was- A fucking senraku parlor? He frowns deeply as he thinks about the terrible things in those places clenching his fists tightly. "That shit's gonna go sky high. The Yakuza won't be on their turf anymore, and though I know we won't shake 'em so bad that they'll never make one of these again... I'm gonna make sure those bastards don't re-open elsewhere." He glances over at Rune for a moment, and then back at Alexander. "Those bastards will /feel/ this loss."

Alexander looks at CeCe. "Simple: We start from the ground up. Spread our message, get the people to take notice, and soon we'll have an army that'll march all the way to the city centre and bring control back to where it belongs. Not the wealthy, not the megacorps, but the people. However, to do that we need to play the long game. Revolution doesn't happen overnight. We need to think in terms of months and years, rather than days and weeks."

Peeko listens to the man's explanation and shrugs plainly. "Makes sense to me, amigo. Gotta start small," he says, knowing all too well that change can't happen overnight, or at all if you force your entire hand from the get-go. "Like a chihuahua, si? Small, fiesty, and a real pain in el culo."

Alexander's response catches CeCe off-guard somewhat. Mi remember him different. Where this fire burning in him heart been the last few runs, hm? She shrugs. "Okay, mi alright with that."

Instead, she turns to look at Griffith, not sure whether to trust his dedication as posturing and bluster, or true grit. "When you become such a critic of the Yakuza?" CeCe asks, searching him for intent. "Last time mi see you, you still running with demons."

Corbett frowns when he hears Alexander tell his story.
These parlors are terrible. I remember there used to be a small ©notcoffee place in that neighbourhood. Now I understand why they had to close. Golden lining is that now, there's mangos to be made; and I really need a nice night out in a high class restaurant.
Corbett then speaks from the seat in the corner.:
"These parlors are terrible. The city will be better off if we introduced some operational problems to their business. The loot shoot cover our expenses, but doing a good deed is what matters."

OOC

Mango(s) is Argentine slang for pesos or money in general.

Griffith pauses, unsure of how to answer her. He puts a hand on his pistol for comfort as he glances up. "Could say I've had a change of heart. Been a long few years since I was with them- Or since I last saw you." He rolls his eyes. "Things are quite different since the last time we spoke. The world's changed." He says.

"Overnight would be nice, but I'll take months or years over not at all," Huntress says in reply to Alexander's answer, a slight smile creeping across her face.

She raises an eyebrow as Cece confronts Griffith on his previous association with the Yakuza. Some of us have a history. It better not get in the way of the mission, she thinks, choosing to stay quiet for now, hoping her concerns are unfounded.

"Hm," CeCe responds to Griffith, her chin high and her arms crossed as she studies the man — a keen eye noticing his hand resting on his pistol. Same man, him seem. But the fool be right, the world be changed now. Mi change, too.

She takes a deep breath, cocking her head in consideration as she drops her gaze from her peer and back to Alexander. Suppose we find out soon if him be spitting lies or tell dem truth.

"Maybe just burn it down," Skylar responds to Corbett. "Big operational problem, ja? We get the people out then boom! No more parlor. It is a good plan, I think," she continues with a shrug, looking to the others for their response. 

Rune watches the room, the conversation, play itself out. Better to get a feel, than to rush in.
He adjusts his bracelet, twitching slightly as the smoke from the Huntress reaches him. When the job's done, we can have one. Not before.
He watches as his friend and his former colleague almost get into it, curious about their history.

As he starts to formulate his input, the young girl with the gum mentions arson, and his knuckles go white on his bracelet.

Et Omnia Ardebit

His voice shaking ever so slightly, though difficult to tell if from exertion of restraint or fear, he finally speaks. His words are more clipped, more intentional than they were before.
"Please. If at all possible, no fire. We can hurt them in other ways, but Fire often comes with, unforeseen collateral damage."

"Mi can agree with that," CeCe says, nodding to Rune's words of caution. "So we gonna do it different. We wreck some things, make some trouble. Leave it inna bad way. Dem want fi start up again, it gonna cost dem." She grins smugly. "But no fire."

She turns back to the Alexander. "So, when we start?"

Shaken from his stupor, Griffith glances over at Rune as he speaks, nodding. "No fire. We can send enough of a message without it." He looks back up at Alexander, awaiting his response.