Knuck's Log 4

"she stared directly into those soft blue eyes and knew, with an instinctive mammalian certainty, that the exceedingly rich were no longer even remotely human." William Gibson in Count Zero

So far, so good. We made contact with Ink and he says he can hook us up with a fixer to transfer our money to a bank account and get us IDs. While he’s working on that, Stephanie found us a back door into the city proper. Aside from the fact that it meant slipping through the sewers and dodging auto turrets, it wasn’t too bad. Once we were inside, we took a look around, and found a bar called Mike’s. It turns out that the Mike is Mike Callahan, and Callahan’s has the ability to exist in multiple worlds simultaneously. I love this place. Caireann even showed up. The bar is a high mana zone.

Mike turned us on to this guy named Bill who might be able to help us get some gear. He asked us to deliver a couple of kegs of beer to him, and even loaned us his truck. I was hoping that this one would fare better than the last one. No such luck. We follow the directions to Bill’s and it turns out to be this massive Nomad beach party, with beer, music and food, real food, like actual meat. We handed over the beer to a couple of guys outside of Bill’s tent. We even brought an extra to show Bill that we were sociable. Unfortunately, the guy’s unloading the beer were Hispanic, and Steve got into an argument with one of them. We made it inside, but while we were there meeting Bill, the guys outside used the truck for target practice.

In spite of all that, it turns out that Bill is a pretty cool guy. We had a great time drinking, eating and smoking weed. I wouldn’t mind hanging out more with him and his crew in the future. We even got Mike’s truck fixed, albeit with different color panels. While we were there, this woman, who turned out to be the sister of the guy outside Steve had the beef with, offered us a job. Most of us, myself included, thought that we already had enough on our plate, so we turned her down, but John decided he could do the job on his own, and left without us.

When the rest of us left the party, we headed back to Mike’s place. While we were there, some guy beaned Steve in the back of the head with a wad of paper wrapped around something hard. The hard thing turned out to be a ring that Steve had seen before, and a set of instruction to meet with the ring tosser under an overpass. When Steve, Sam, Cory and I showed up, there was mister duster. He tried to talk us into giving up the device again, and while we were talking, Steve pulls out his gun with no warning and caps the guy. After that, all Hell broke loose. The guy tried to run, and everybody opened fire trying to stop him for getting away. When the smoke cleared he was down, but instead of just lying there like a respectable dead body, he starts to dissolve into a puddle of goo. Steve freaked out and started gibbering about him being a Mellor. Then he started poking around in the goo, and came up with three of those portal crystals.

As we were doing that, we hear applause from the shadows. There stands a dead ringer (all pun intended) for Rutger Hauer. He was the one who actually sent the ring our way. He knows we have the device too and tries to talk us out of it, but he offers us a TARDIS for it. That’s right, an actual TARDIS. We told him that as much as we liked his offer, we would have to talk it over with the rest of our party. He took that reasonably well, and we made our exit.

The next night, we went to the bar where we met Ink to check on the IDs. Everything went well, we found out that we had a meet later that night with the money changer, but then this gang of guys dressed like extras from A Clockwork Orange come in and try to start a fight with Cory. There were about 40 of them and only 3 of us, so things were looking bad. Fortunately the bar security intervened and prevented the fight. If it hadn’t been for them, we would have gotten our asses kicked.
Later we went to a different bar to meet with the money changer. After some misadventures trying to navigate through the bar’s levels, we made it to the deepest, meanest level where our contact was. There seemed to be some sort of misunderstanding though. We were just told to show up at the bar and meet him. He seemed to think it was a formal meet and that we would have the goods on us, like we wander around with hundreds of pounds of gold. We tried to explain but it turned into a dick measuring contest to see who was the toughest. Eventually we managed to set up a second meet for the following night where we could bring the goods. I think when this is all done; we are all looking to adding some hardware to ourselves to even the odds. This meat versus metal thing is getting old.



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