Soundtrack wrote:Are you one of them girls?//That peels off the Bud-Light label//Just might run a pool table//Roll your eyes if I call you an angel
The door swings opens outward, and Wraith pulls it open taking a defensive posture. Like a ghost, Shrike glides by, guns ready and brain alert for danger or the target. The hallway is dim, the lighting is on emergency lockdown mode. It pulses from red to white, the illumination coming from square light panels in the ceiling. There is no audible alarm in over a building PA. At a door immediately to Shrike's left, a scared looking middle aged man, probably an ork, goes wide eyed as he sees Shrike's guns. But at hearing the pass phrase, he relaxes a bit.TIME STAMP wrote: //Location:Tacoma/Seattle Metroplex/UCAS
//Time: <2247:00/2075-01-05> Combat round OVER
//Weather: <Heavy Downpour, 5.6C, Wind SE 22kph, feels like 0C>
//Air Quality: <Moderate (Yellow), Precipitation pH 3>
"I got it, I got, just a sec, okay? No worries..." he says, the pleading continues as he ducks back inside the room. Shrike can hear the clang of a heavy door opening. It only takes about 20 seconds for the guy to return with a small metal box. It's the size of a shoe box, but it looks heavy and well secured. A large metal strap across the top holds it closed with stout looking lock and hasp. It is worn and somewhat dented. He slides it across the floor, it makes it about halfway to Shrike. Without another word, the guy ducks back into his office and slams the door shut. Transaction complete.
Armchair shadowrunners and analysts will certainly debate ad nauseam whether Bushwack's screeching metal taunt was a help or a hindrance. The chicken fighting inside stopped after his annoying and earsplitting noise. There's a few moments of just a skittering noise, then two enourmous bird shaped creatures, leap into the rain through the open door way. They are south of Bushwack and Tupla. They are blocking the runners' escape.
The birds have are large, almost two meters in length, and maybe a meter to the shoulder and another meter of long feathered neck. Their heads look just like a large devil-inspired chicken. They stop short as they size up the enormous troll, not the easy prey they prefer. They are clucking (which somehow seems vicious and menacing) and skittering about while whipping their long blue tails around, like they are gauging range.
Meanwhile, Mulpa searches the bodies for loot. Every bit a professional, he is thorough but quick. It's a good thing he brought a backpack. There are many weapons, and some other very interesting items as well. His search also confirms that they are all elves. All but the big elf with the big guns seem to lack any cyberware or enhancements.
They also were dressed for stealth and carried a minimum amount of extra gear.
None of them are wholly dead. The big guy might bleed out, but the others will either be eaten by para-chickens or wake up with a really bad headache.
Mulpa takes the longest to finish his task, Shrike and Wraith gather nearby. The three of them could by pass the chicken-situation by going between the warehouses. Tulpa and Bushwack are at a momentary standoff with the flightless killer birds.
What are you doing?