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Lobby <Red Eclipse, Comorro Station>
You enter a small waiting area first, complete with a couple of couches and some magazine-laden small tables. A holo-screen on the central table cycles through the latest news-briefs, focusing mainly upon the assorted tumultuous dangers of Hiverspace. There is a clear polycarbonate wall between the waiting area and the actual room, so one can see what is within without being able to hear it.
Through a set of double doors is a much larger room; the front left-hand side is the training/workout area, also behind a clear polycarbonate wall so that potential candidates and clients alike can observe the available mercenaries in their natural habitat. Music is usually playing at a boisterous volume, the playlist consisting of bass-thumping, parent-offending, wall-rattling tunes from many eras and planets.
Beyond the training area is a door marked "Captain's Office," and a mess hall/break area separated from the rest of the room by a chest-high wall. On the right hand side of the room is the reception desk; just beyond that, smoked polycarbonate cubicle walls designate a private area for interviews and consultations. In the far wall, a door leads into the barracks.
Somewhere in the chow hall lurks a middle aged man with a hot sauce problem. He's staring at about two dozen bottles that are in a fancy wooden case set up on the table in front of him. Micky seems to be torn with some sort of internal dilemma at the choice before him. He has, however, narrowed down his food options. He's got a motley assortment of whatever was leftover on a plate beside his treasure trove of eclectic hot sauce. It's a real nailbiter.
Jocaira heads out of her office, holding what... appears to be a rather poorly made small raggedy model of a white Lyiri. She bangs it against the door frame a couple of times, peers at it, sighs, and then tosses it back into the office. With a jingle of belts and bangles, she saunters into the mess hall. "Try se Bad Ass," she offers to Micky, before pouring herself a half a mug of coffee topped off with Kahlua.
James Sterling walks out from the barracks area, shrugging into his bomber jacket. He makes a beeline for the front doors of the lobby, apparently intent on heading out for the evening.
"It is good, but..." hedges an indecisive Micky as he stares at the colorful labels on the hot sauce bottles in front of him. "I'm just not sure I'm in the mood for that one...going with a little bit of all of them destroys their individual merits...decisions, decisions."
"Mickee, it is sauce. You can always 'ave a different one tomorrow, or in an 'our or so," Joca says, and then trails off as James beelines out. "Oi," she calls. "Monsieur Sterling, 'ow nice of you to make appearance. Scuttlebutt was sat I might 'ave frightened you off." Her smirk, while wide, is a bit sharp around the edges.
Sterling starts slightly at the sound of Jocaira's voice. He turns on his heel, executing a ninety-degree pivot, and heads instead for the mess hall. He grins at Joca as he draws near. "Scuttlebutt, eh?" he drawls. "What's th'rumour mill think I gotta be scared o'you for?"
"Pretty optimistic," mumbles Micky as he reaches for one of the bottles and then sets it back in the case only to select another one. Eventually, even he tires of this. He shuts his eyes and pushes the box around a couple of times in a circle and back and forth before he picks a bottle at random to dump over his random plate of chow.
Jocaira takes a long drink of coffee, apparently not having to wait for it to cool since it's half coffee-enhancing rum product. "Ahn, I don't know... maybe I'm just a scary person? Maybe I play too rough?" She's at least half-teasing as she sips some more coffee and watches Micky play Hot Sauce Roulette with quiet amusement. "Need to catch you earlier, so we can put you to se test, ne?"
Sterling laughs. "I don't think yer scary," he says. "An' I like t'play rough. But yeah, I wanna get this show on th'road, y'know? I wanna earn me place an' start doin' somethin' serious around here." He glances over to Micky. "Every time I see ya, yer eatin' somethin', Micky. An' with that hot sauce y'eat, y'gotta have the clearest sinuses on the station."
Micky forks up some food laced with the sauce - Big Z's Zippy Zauze as it turns out. He chews with a contemplative expression before giving a slight shrug as he continues to eat, "Eh, too much build up." He headnods over towards Sterling, "Gotta fuel the fire. Feed the fire with fire. Ultimate burn. Exercise but lazier. Medicinal purposes. Major food group. Intestinal fortitude. Ayup."
"I wish it would clear 'is sinuses. 'e sounds like goose when it is time for migrating. Honnnnk," Joca says, sticking the tip of her tongue out from between her teeth. "Well, what do you sink, Mickee? You got se stuff to dream up an appropriate challenge for our applicant?"
"Wouldn't hurt ya t'lift a couple o'th'weights in th'trainin' room," Sterling opines, raising an eyebrow at Micky. He chuckles at Jocaira's description. "Intestinal somethin'," he adds. He straightens and folds his arms over his chest. "Yeh, Micky, whaddya got?"
"Could," admits Micky around a mouthful of food. He scratches his head with the fork. "But, it'd be boring, and I like bein' entertained and challenged. So, Mister Sterling, gimme three things you wanna see in your challenge - not includin' the boss's boobs - to make it hard for me to come up with a plausible scenario."
Jocaira hikes a leg up to sit partially on the counter, and freshens her coffee. "Too laa-aate," she singsongs, and for a moment mocks like she's going to pull her shirt up at Micky. Apparently it's just a tease, and not an invitation to play Pervert Chicken, however, as she pulls it back down after a reasonable reaction (or lack thereof).
Sterling throws his head back and laughs. "Thought it was your task t'challenge /me/, not t'other way round," he replies. "If a borin' scenario's all y'got..." He shrugs expansively, spreading his hands wide. He flicks a sidelong glance at Jocaira, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Micky cranes his neck enough to be sure that he'd get a view if one was offered. He just sighs and shakes his head when none is. He sighs again at Sterling, "I already got a job. But, fine, fine. If you want me to give you a challenge, I can, but if you want it to be somethin' you can pull off, you're goin' to have to give me some kinda skillset. Pretty sure you're a sniper, right? Got anything else you want to show off?"
Jocaira blows a very mature raspberry sound in Micky's direction, flipping the hem of the shirt back up to show just an inch or so of mocha skin. Phhhhtttbbrt. "Yes, sis way I won't get accused of taking it easy on 'im because I like 'is ass," she says, sage?ly. Seems that the coffee needs more rum. "But we will 'ave to 'ave discussion of -sose- rules la~ter. Is important, but less important sen getting you properly vetted and on payroll."
"That's right," Sterling confirms. He makes a show of cracking his knuckles. "I'm a good brawler," he says, "An' I ain't bad with knives." He pauses, regarding the backs of his knuckles contemplatively. "Or blunt weapons. Or pretty near anything y'have t'hand." He looks up with a smug smile. "I c'n keep runnin' after all the other knobs've tossed their breakfasts," he adds, "even with forty or fifty pounds o'gear on me back." He gives Jocaira a cocky grin. "There's more t'like about me than just that," he states.
After nodding over to James, Micky turns to Jocaira, "If he's as fast as he claims, I can get it geared up to go now, boss. Otherwise, I can run it when as next I sees him to seize him."
"I'm game," Joca says, sliding neatly from the countertop, refilling her mug, and grabbing a box of pastry for the 'road'. The road being all the way across the room where the stairs to the VR suite are. "You tell me buttons to push, I push. Make computair do what you want. You want to play now, Monsieur Sterling?" If you know what I mean?
"Sure." Sterling looks toward the stairs. "How you gonna test me fightin' skills with a computer?" he asks.
"Won't know until you go," answers Micky as he goes.
Micky heads into Virtual Reality Tactics Room.
"It is se -future-," Joca gushes, and prances off towards the room like it's a big ol' party.
Jocaira heads into Virtual Reality Tactics Room.
Virtual Reality Tactics Room
This room appears simple - just a cube-shaped alcove with a great deal of circuitry along the walls and ceiling, and grid lines on the floor. The interesting part of the room is on the wall nearest the door, where the holographic controls are. The unit is preloaded with a quantity of planets, environments, and scenarios for safe, but not painless, training. On the other side of the door is a shelving unit containing appropriate props for a variety of weapons; these are translated into realistic-seeming but nonlethal counterparts once the suite has been activated.
Sterling follows along, taking a mental pause to enjoy the view of Jocaira bouncing down the stairs ahead of him. "Right, th'future," he says, not without some distraction. He looks around the room as he enters. "This is it?"
Talking as he walks in, Micky says, "Set up a night time desert with a bunker dead center. About a hundred meters northwest of the bunker, set up a guard tower. Between the bunker and the guard tower, set up a shack. Around the bunker, the shack, and the guard tower, set up triple strand c-wire." This explanation seems to be directed at Jocaira because he then turns to James, "Ok, you just jumped in. The rest of your boys broke themselves on the jump 'cause the pilot is a chump. It's up to you to rescue the princess fair in the shack."
Jocaira trots over to a couple of crates in the corner, sets her refreshments down on one crate, and sets her ass down on the other. With a casual flick of a panel, she pulls out a dataslate and starts thumbing at it. With a soft hum that can be felt through the walls and floor, the suite activates, causing a brief perceptual distortion as the walls and ceiling seem to expand away, coalescing into a night sky dotted with stars and misted with clouds. The floor grows spongy and soft as sand seems to pull upward underneath people's feet. Like a mix of stop-motion plants growing and unfolding paper art, the bunker, guard tower, and shack sprout up, with the requested wire barriers unfurling around them. "You want 'im to be able to select difficulty, Mickee?" she calls as she works. "Also you want loadout?"
Sterling gives Micky an odd look as he listens to the old soldier rattle off the scenario details, then nods. "There a time factor?" he asks, glancing to Jocaira. "The bad guys gonna off our princess anytime soon?" He starts as the room begins to hum and the environment shifts. "Wow," he breathes, shifting from foot to foot as the sand appears beneath his boots. "It's th'future, alright."
"Nah, they want money. We're mercenaries, remember?" Micky answers Sterling before switching to talk to Jocaira, "Yeah, give him a pick of goodies based on what he picks." Now, he looks back to Sterling, "Boss says for you to pick a level. If you're feelin' like a stone cold killer, pick ten. If you're feeling like you don't want this job, pick four. If you feel somewhere in between, pick a number between them two. The higher the number, the tougher it'll be if you ain't glommed on yet."
Jocaira's crate seating has turned into a beach chair, complete with umbrella and little thatched-roof bar. She thumbs some more controls, and a duffel bag unfurls at her feet with a rustle of canvas. First, she tosses three red and white poker chips into it. "Your backup," she says. "Find somesing you need 'elp wis, point one at it and squeeze. But yes, ten, seven, or four. Is difficulty, ehn? Choose wisely."
"I got backup?" Sterling tilts his head at Joca, then shifts the look to Micky. "Thought I was the only one who managed t'survive insertion."
"Deus ex machina," Micky says. "Get some gear out of the duffel bag, ask whatever questions you gotta ask, come up with some sort of plan, and get the ball rollin'."
"I need difficulty, before sings get put in se bag," Joca says from her beach chair, lazily sipping her coffee and adding a Timonese bartender to the little tiki booth.
Sterling nods. "Gimme the ten," he says after a moment's consideration. He looks at the duffel bag. "I'll want somethin' that'll get me through that wire. Cutters, gloves, somethin' like that. An' a sniper rifle," he adds, "an' a sidearm or at least a combat knife, t'start."
"Get it while it is hot," suggests Micky.
Jocaira thumbs a few more things on the panel, and the duffel starts filling with difficulty-appropriate items (Micky gets to decide what's in there, as he's running the show). Apparently "ten" is the highest difficulty, as the build of the shack and surrounding areas gets a bit... thicker. Whatever sparse cover was available starts to shrivel and get even more desert-like. She sips her drink, and toes the duffel forward. "'ave fun, baby," she sing-songs.
Sterling peers into the duffel bag and stoops to retrieve a few items: a pair of heavy duty, kevlar-lined gloves; a pair of wire cutters; a combat rifle equipped with a suppressor, and a seven-inch knife. He looks down at his clothing, then at Micky. "Can this magic box put me in desert camos?" he asks with a grin. "Hate t'be conspicuous."
"Make it happen," answers Micky.
"Hokay," drawls Joca, lazily, and thumbs through some selections before a solid suit of Australian Defence Force issue Disruptive Pattern Desert uniform starts at Sterling's feet and weaves its way up, threads raveling together with the noiseless 'sound' of code being rewritten.
A whispered "whoa" escapes Sterling's lips as the virtual reality program rewrites his appearance. "Cool," he says, gazing down at his new uniform. He looks over the scene before him, taking in its details. "What c'n y'tell me about the defences?" he asks. "Number o'guards, their gear, patrol routes?"
"What'cha see is what'cha get. You see yourself a tower that's probably got a guard in it. You see yourself a bunker. You see yourself a shack. You could probably see yourself more with your fancy, dancy scope," says Micky. Should this option be used, it becomes clear that there is one alert looking goon up in yonder tower who doesn't have himself the benefit of sensory enhancing equipment, but he does have a big gun slung across his chest. There's at least one mook in the bunker, maybe two. The shack remains very shack like. It's about fifteen by twenty with no windows and a shacky door on the bunker side of it.
Jocaira just titters quietly at James' reaction, although who knows what -hers- was the first time she came in here. As it stands, she seems very familiar with the program options. With a few more thumb-presses, the Timonae bartender mixes her up a Mai Tai and brings it over to her chair, sitting in the sand to rub her calves. She settles into a more comfortable position and prepares to watch the show.
"Alright," Sterling replies. He drops to one knee and does indeed utilise the scope on his rifle to survey the tower and whatever of the other buildings are within his line of sight. He lowers himself to his belly and starts low-crawling toward the fence, the rifle held out in front of him.
Nothing much changes what with the guard tower, shack, and the bunker. Eventually, though, James's movements will bring him into the view of the guard in yonder tower unless he gets sneaky or drops the mook guard before he comes into the mook's probable area of view.
Jocaira just watches with almost predatory interest from her little observational corner, shifting her weight a little when James raises the weapon. Somebody's a fan of impending violence.
Sterling pauses to bring up his rifle and sight in on the tower guard. Propped up on his elbows, he waits until the guard moves into his sights. He draws a slow breath, holds it a moment, and releases it as he squeezes the trigger.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Ranged + Sniping at a modifier of 0. The result is 2.
[Skill System] Jocaira rolls a 6 for test at a modifier of 0. The result is 10.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook at a modifier of 0. The result is 14.
The mook up in the tower just happens to be wandering back and forth in a semirandom pattern when Sterling shoots. The suppressor is surprisingly good, and the shot is surprisingly bad, so ol' mook boy doesn't notice much. Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Micky grimaces.
Jocaira looks up from her umbrella drink and squints between James and the remarkably un-shot mook/tower. She shrugs, and takes a looong slurp on the drink. Then, she yawns.
Sterling inwardly swears. /Let's pull the next shot a little more to the left, dobey,/ he mentally berates himself. /Mebbe y'll hit somebody in Prague./ He decides to line up a second shot, taking a bit more care this time.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Ranged + Projectile Weapons at a modifier of 0. The result is 7.
This time the silly mook has stopped moving. Sterling manages to hit the poor guy because he's taken off guard and doesn't know to cower down behind the limited concealment offered by the plywood guard tower wall. (A 4 is a skin of your teeth success in an unopposed roll for TIL.) Meanwhile, over in the peanut gallery, Micky's grimace gets slightly less intensed. There is at least one goon or mook in the bunker. The bunker, designed by a silly bugger, does not have a three hundred and sixty degree view of the field. Sterling is currently in a blind spot. This works both ways. He can't assess how many are in there, but he knows there is at least one. That one (or possibly two) can't see him, either. No one has left the shack, either.
Jocaira continues slurping her drink, apparently watching the action from the dataslate in her lap. When the mook goes down, she says 'eee!' and wiggles her toes.
Sterling resumes his low-crawl toward the fence once he sees the guard fall. When he reaches the fence, he takes a quick glance about to ensure he's still not been detected, then sets his rifle down in front of him and slips into the kevlar-lined gloves. He takes out the linemans' clips and sets to work at the corner post, cutting the wires and folding them back.
Snip, snip, snippity snip. Uh oh, the door to the shack is starting to open. The door is off on the side not directly facing Sterling. In fact, it faces the bunker. The tension gets to Micky, and he breaks his old friend the flask.
Jocaira continues wiggling her toes in anticipation, leaning in closer to the dataslate and zooming in on the action. "Hee hee hee."
Sterling freezes for a moment when the door begins to open, kneeling stock-still. He sets down the clips and slides back to his belly, picking up his rifle again. He sights in on the door and waits.
Dup-de-do, some stooge leaves the shack. He's got a platter of snackies-poos in his hands and a rifle slung across his chest.
"Oooo... kill hiiim," Joca murmurs, under her breath. Micky can probably hear her but not much in the way of sound heads out to the 'live' zone. She is now leaning over the dataslate like a sports fan over a tiny TV.
The stooge shuts the door with his butt and then stooges his way towards the...bunker.
Sterling waits for the snack-bearing stooge to get to the bunker door before he sets his rifle down again and resumes cutting the wires.
And, this happens. Micky amuses himself with drinking some more as he stands off to the side. James has enough time to cut all the wires before anybody else pops out.
Jocaira huffs quietly as the expected mayhem does not break loose, and continues watching, doodling with the dataslate to bring the view closer.
Sterling stows the cutters, slings his rifle across his back, and squeezes through the gap he's made in the fence. That gap should be wide enough for a 'princess' to fit through, he thinks. He tucks the gloves into his belt and unslings his rifle, moving in a hurried crouch toward the shack.
Nothing bad happens. As Sterling gets closer, he hears noisy BSing from the bunker but not much going on sound wise with the shack. Micky, on the other hand, says, "Can I see the controls, boss?"
Jocaira peers suspiciously at Micky for a moment, looking a bit territorial over the item. "...hokay," she finally says, and reluctantly hands it over. "Don' muck wis it."
Sterling creeps round to the front of the shack. He attempts to open the door and rush inside with his rifle at the ready, hopefully using his other hand to pull the door shut behind him.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Perception skill at a modifier of 0. The result is 4.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Agility + Reaction at a modifier of 0. The result is 6.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook at a modifier of -2. The result is 5.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook at a modifier of -2. The result is 11.
"Sure, sure," says Micky as he starts to muck with it as soon as it is in his hands. No giant purple dinosaurs spring up, though, or dancing liquor bottles, so he can't be up to anything that bad. Meanwhile, Sterling rushes into the shack. It seems like it's the only room in the aptly named shack. There is, however, a grate in the floor with an old fashioned dungeon style, big as a grown man's torso lock on it. More importantly, however, there is a mook with an assault rifle over by the grate who is currently jeering at the prisoner. Even more importantly than that, though, there is a more alert mook door guard that James notices swinging a giant battleaxe at Sterling's face.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 11.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Melee + Blocking at a modifier of 0. The result is 11.
Sterling gives a bark of surprise as a genuine battle axe comes whipping toward his head. Instinctively, he raises his rifle to block the incoming blow, as it would likely split his skull in two if it landed. The axe buries itself instead in the rifle, which is rendered an unsightly wound. Sterling raises his foot and kicks out at the man with the axe, hoping to strike him in the chest and knock him away, preferably without his axe.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Unarmed + Striking at a modifier of 0. The result is 8.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 14.
The mook with the axe manages to twist out of the way of the kick before trying to drive the handle of the weapon crosswise into James' throat, head, or chest. He isn't too picky, but he'd probably like to hit James in the throat or face. Anywho, the other fellow does the classic 'what should I do now' while looking between his associate with the axe, his assault rifle, James, and the prison grate. Micky doesn't do much, but he does hold onto the controls.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 10.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Agility + Dodging at a modifier of 0. The result is 8.
Jocaira makes little 'wanty fingers' at the dataslate, complete with petulant 'eeeehn' noises. Apparently she doesn't want to get up in order to see what's going on, craning her neck and muttering all the while.
The axe handle catches Sterling across the bridge of his nose with a disturbing yet familiar crunching sound. He gives an angry shout and slams the butt of his rifle toward the guard's face.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Unarmed + Improvised Weapons at a modifier of 0. The result is 5.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 9.
The mook's head jerks smartly back. Unfortunately, he jerks his head back before it is forcibly introduced to the butt of James' rifle. Keeping with the close in fighting, though, mook boy tries to headbutt James. Meanwhlie, the other, confused mook opts for standing by the grate with his weapon pointed alternately at the fighting pair and the ground. Micky manages to ignore Jocaira pretty completely, but he does angle the pad so she can view the action while not looking at her. He tries to make that look incidental.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 7.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Agility + Dodging at a modifier of 0. The result is 5.
Jocaira bounces around a bit in her chair, spilling some of her drink on the sand. "Headbutt!" she cheers. Apparently she's happy no matter who's winning, as long as there's violence.
The guard headbutts Sterling, sending shockwaves of pain through his forehead. Sterling snarls something nearly incoherent laced with a few choice profanities of few syllables and swings a fist toward the guard's face.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Unarmed + Striking at a modifier of 0. The result is 7.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 7.
It's close. Sterling's fist rasps off the stubble on the mook's face. The mook lifts the axe for a baseball style swing after taking a half step back. It's at this point that Micky presses a button which pauses things. "You can use the token if you want." If Sterling does decide to use the token, something else will happen, but if he declines, the play button is pressed and the mook swings for fences.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 10.
Sterling staggers, off-balance from the missed blow. He stumbles upright, staring in surprise at the axe-wielding guard frozen in mid-swing. "What the --" He hears Micky's voice and remembers he's in a virtual world. "What ... what token?"
"Them poker chip looking things," comes Micky's answer in voice of God mode over the simulation speakers. Somebody gave him too much power. "They're for your deus ex machina. Press 'em if you want. Else get ready to duck."
Sterling reaches into one of his ammo pouches and pulls out one of the tokens he was given at the start of the scenario. He glances at it, then at the big fellow about to bring a world of hurt down on him. "Man, this is effed up," he mutters. "Okay, sure." He presses the middle of the token with his thumb.
Another guy dressed in Australian desert camo materializes off to Sterling's left side, nearest to the confused guy. Sterling's still stuck ducking that axe blow, though, as Micky gives a count down, "Ten..nine...eight...screw it, go."
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Agility + Dodging at a modifier of 0. The result is 6.
Sterling is distracted by the appearance of another soldier, but the stopped time gives him enough of a chance to keep from actually having his head separated from his shoulders. The blade slices through a sizeable section of his right upper arm as he throws himself away from his opponent. Sterling's startled expression twists into a painful sneer. He points with his good arm to the mook standing over the grate. "Go kill that other fucker!" he shouts at the other soldier, then attempts to bull-rush the axe-man and knock him down.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Unarmed + Striking at a modifier of 0. The result is 4.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for axe mook at a modifier of 0. The result is 9.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for soldier boy at a modifier of 0. The result is 15.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for gun mook at a modifier of 0. The result is 9.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for axe mook at a modifier of 0. The result is 10.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for soldier boy at a modifier of 0. The result is 6.
The soldier pops off a pair of rounds in a performance honed by many a ready up drill. This artistery out of computer engineering brings a tear to Micky's eye before he sobers up while watching Sterling go gallumping past the axe man's sidestep. The guy with the axe, though, ignores Sterling as he charges the soldier. He neatly cuts off his head. Crap. Over on the side lines, Micky can be heard getting emotional.
Sterling draws his combat knife with his left hand and lunges for the axe man's back.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Melee + Edged at a modifier of 0. The result is 8.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 14.
That guy with the axe is one hardcore SOB. He leaps back before using the reach of the axe in an attempt to take Sterling out once and for all. Micky has gotten over the loss of the soldier with the perfect kill shot and started to drink again.
[Skill System] Micky rolls a 10 for mook with axe at a modifier of 0. The result is 8.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Melee + Blocking at a modifier of 0. The result is 8.
Sterling manages to get his rifle up in time to meet the battle axe before it makes woeful contact with his face. Grimacing with the pain the maneuver causes, he tries to twist the rifle to the side, removing the man's weapon as a defense as he attempts to slam the combat knife in the tough old bastard's throat.
[Skill System] James Sterling tests his Melee + Edged at a modifier of +1. The result is 2.
Somehow, someway, the guy drops the axe. He's stupid enough to try to pick it up. He gets stabbed in the neck. Over on the sidelines, Micky is definitely not tampering with test results. There's an explosion outside. Should Sterling look out there, the bunker has been exploded but good. That leaves the big, stupid lock. There's an equally big, stupid key around the neck of the guy that soldier boy shot prior to his own neck being hacked clean through.
Sterling, blissfully unaware of any tampering that may or may not be happening, grins in satisfaction at his defeat of the axe-wielding mook. The explosion gets his attention immediately afterward. "Who ordered that?" he wonders aloud. "Makes my job easier," he decides. He grabs the key from around the dead guard's neck and unlocks the comically oversized lock.
Micky hastily hands off the datapad and tries to make a run for it while laughing like a crazy person.
Who should be down there? Who is the princess fair? It is a Jociara. She's got mime paint, a pencil thin mustache, and a black beret that looks more like a chef hat. She's also wearing the black and white striped shirt, suspenders, black pants, and...clown shoes? Yes. They are giant and red. Oh, yeah, there's a little tiara on her beret that looks like it'll fall off at any moment. She demands, "Vat? Vat is viff ze zlowness? Kennen Sie mich noch lieb? Do you still love me?"
Jocaira looks between the unfolding scene and the fleeing lush. Appropriately, she wings her drink at him. "Asshole! Sat's GERMAN! Que pensez-vous que je suis, quelque pile barbu graisse de la choucroute?"
Sterling stares at the occupant in the space beneath the grate for several moments. He lifts his head and shouts at the virtual shack's virtual ceiling, "What the fuck is this?!"
Despite being hit in the back, Micky makes good his escape, mumbling something about the waste of alcohol as he goes. Fraulein Jociara doesn't seem to have any more lines. She just stands at the bottom of the pit, pointing an accusing finger at James.
Jocaira shakes her head, and makes a few swipes at the datapad. With disorienting swiftness, the scenery tumbles inward, horizons zooming back towards the normal room shape and fading back into the ordinary circuit-laden walls. The sand and scene hiss off into the floor. All the effects of the program are gone, including James' special uniform and all of the accumulated wounds. "If you really wanted to make it funny you should 'ave made it you, you penciled dick." She calls after Micky's giggling, retreating back.
Sterling rolls his eyes. "C'mon, then," he mutters, "let's get this over with." He reaches down into the pit with his uninjured left hand to grab the German Jocaira parody and haul her out of the pit, but the scene melts away as he does so. Sterling, not expecting the change of environment, stumbles backward and lands heavily on his rump. He squints around at the now plain-looking room, then casts a helpless, confused look on Jocaira.
Jocaira continues ranting a bit at the now-closed door to the VR Suite for a while, in a variety of languages and turns of phrase from many time periods. After a moment, she clears her throat, straightens her curls, and puts the datapad back into the control panel socket and turns around. "Is a little strange at first, but you should get used to it, ehn? 'ow are you feeling?"
Sterling shakes his head. "That was intense," he states, slowly getting to his feet. He prods experimentally at his now non-injured arm and nose, then runs a hand over his sweaty forehead and through his hair. "I'm exhausted."
Jocaira nods knowingly. "Mm-hmm. Feel very real, yes? Somebody explain it to me once, somesing about amplification of pain recepting and... I don't know what else. Psh. I just know it works, and everysing feels real unless you turn sat part off. We can fight in 'ere too, just to 'eart's content and sen turn off and poof no bruise or broken or nussing."
Sterling smiles slowly. "Pretty handy," he observes. "Y'don't have t'build a training facility when y'got this." He pauses, frowning. "Though now that I think about it ... that bunker wasn't s'posed t'blow up, was it? Or was that s'posed t'be some random element?" As he works over possibilities in his mind, he smiles again. "Or was it just Micky wanting to cut to the chase and show off his little joke?"
"I don't know 'e took se pad away from me so I don't know what 'e did. But, probably, it was going on for a while and you were no 'aving a terribly good time, ne?" Joca says, not terribly reproachful but there is a bit of disappointment in her expression. No real -surprise-, mind, because it's likely not the first time someone's taken the highest difficulty and will likely not be the last.
Sterling scowls. "Yeh, I gave it me all an' got me ass handed t'me. Ain't fought somebody that quick," he adds. "The Rax at least y'could /hit/. Hadda hit 'em over an' over an' over..." His expression shifts to one of disgust. "So Micky got tired o' watchin' me take axes t'the face and zapped th'fucker t'get it over with, I reckon."
Jocaira shakes her packet of cigarillos out of her sleeve with a snap of the wrist. "So, what do you sink about all of sis? Se simulacion, Monsieur Mickee's program? Your own performing?"
"The tech's amazing," Sterling replies, watching the packet of cigarillos. "The scenario -- the program -- was good. Good setup, good design. Challengin'. Me?" He shrugs. "Reckon yer computers're a bit much for a twenty-first century boy."
Jocaira tucks a cigarillo into the corner of her mouth. "Yeah? So, maybe you sink, picking se 'ardest sing was not best idea?" She watches him watching the cigarillo, and dredges her lighter out of the Cleavage of Holding. "Maybe?"
A faint sly smile creeps over Sterling's face at the appearance of the lighter. "Hadda show ya I ain't afraid," he says. "'Cos I ain't. I figured takin' the highest difficulty'd be jus' this side o'suicide, but hell, it's simulated, right? Not gonna really die, if I die in there."
"No, but it can sure feel like you 'ave," Joca says, lighting the cigarillo and taking the first drag. "But, ehn. Everyone picks se ten. Some people make it, some don't. Monsieur Mickee made it very far before 'e FINALLY remember to use se chips. Which... 'ardly anyone uses like I am going to what, send people out wis no 'elp? We will 'ave to review sis, and sen when you 'ave 'ad chance to rest, your active combat test."
Sterling nods. "I thought that was a bit odd," he admits. "That scenario ain't one I'da sent only one bloke inta. But Micky made 'em sound like it'd be cheatin' t'use 'em, or admittin' y'got no hope o'winnin'. Y'don't want a wimp or a loser on yer team, now do ya?" He shrugs. "Anyhow, you lemme know when y'want me t'take the other test, an' I'll be here."